Don Bauder 11:30 a.m., April 23
Articles by Alexander Theroux
A wanderer in the wasteland
It was all of it sad, godforsaken country. Last summer in a remote area south of here, around Split Mountain, a man whose car had broken down was found dead. He was shoeless and his brain had boiled.
I Am Criticized as Being Hard to Read. He is Thought to Be Cynical. I Should Publish More Books. He Publishes Too Much.
The Theroux brothers
Paul told me that if he had read my novel Darconville’s Cat in high school, he would never have started to write. And in a way, I began to write in order to catch up to him.
Black’s Beach. The “world’s largest nude beach” as it is commonly billed, it may come as something of a surprise to many San Diegans, is officially—legally, technically, formally—a non-nude beach. Clothing is not optional; it ...
Revolucion: Big Curio Store, Long Bar, Hotel Nelson, Foreign Club, Sara's, Maxim's, Caesar's Hotel, Jai Alai
Avenida Revolucion begins at the boundary of the United States and Mexico, at the junction with Avenida Internacional where, at rush hour, cars come racing around the corner onto Revolucion. At the very bottom of ...
Reflections on my father
We were not allowed to talk about money at the table, crush the counters of our shoes, leave dirty silverware on the sideboard, or refer to our mother as “she,” which he found particularly disrespectful.
What we find in the end is cartoons.
Only minutes before, Cochran had unctuously and fatuously portrayed the O.J. Simpson case as part of the long and unending struggle for civil rights in America, comparing this murder trial to the battles against slavery.
Hincty, Zoo-Zoos, Whuppin’, Juicehead, Hamfat, Gleeby, Mogatin’, Motorvatin’, Licin’ Stick, Jelly Roll, Scronch, Poppa-Stoppa, Dicty, Spo-Dee-O-Dee, Good Booty, Shag on Down, and Meekin’
Parsing the demon-tongue of shake-your-groove-thang-ism.
Richard Henry Dana in San Diego
So on that Sunday, young Dana — a stripling tar, 20 years old — walked into San Diego wearing a blue jersey, duck trousers, and a straw hat. He and his friend Stimson headed right to a “grog-shop.”
I have quoted to myself enough passages from Dante, Othello, The Changeling, The Dunciad, Swift and Yeats, skip-rope rhymes, Lord Byron, Burma-Shave jingles, “Lycidas,” Proust, Gerard Manley Hopkins, and Great Expectations to have tried to make them mine.