August 2010
1 post
A friend of mine, who I would describe as a Brooklyn hipster if I weren’t somewhat intimidated by the broadness of the term and uncertain if this friend might take offense at my naïve use of such a label, once commented that while he felt Tao Lin did a decent enough job of writing about twenty-something ennui, Lin’s work failed to offer any solutions or demonstrate any way that one might transcend...