Consider myself examined.
Showing posts with label psychoanalysis. Show all posts
Showing posts with label psychoanalysis. Show all posts
Friday, 26 February 2016
Thursday, 25 February 2016
Literary coincidences: 3
I've been tinkering with the idea of launching a small, low-admin South-East London literary festival, so this morning I was making notes as to whom I might be able to involve. Aspiring-writer mates, literary Facebook acquaintances, authors I've interviewed. Anyone from whom I might beg an under-remunerated favour, really, if they happened to be in the area. The last name I put down - on a might-as-well-ask basis - was Wendy Cope.
Out walking the dog just now, I was listening to The Examined Life by Stephen Grosz (psychoanalyst) when, in a chapter about love, a particular bit caught my ear:
Out walking the dog just now, I was listening to The Examined Life by Stephen Grosz (psychoanalyst) when, in a chapter about love, a particular bit caught my ear:
As the poet Wendy Cope once told...
Labels:
audiobooks,
dogs,
festivals,
London,
poetry,
psychoanalysis,
Stephen Grosz,
Wendy Cope
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