The Starvelings

I’ve had a long meeting with myself just now, myself, who has been thinking for months that I ought to read Mann for you. After all, Mann is nothing if not the one empty corner in the squathouse of growing up, and although my romance with Mann ended years ago, I can still smell him at the thought… you know how it is. And so, month after month, I look at his stories, and I Just. Don’t. Know.