http://msarki.tumblr.com/post/149974958253/my-cousin-my-gastroenterologist-by-ma...

Perhaps I should confess how impressed I am with Mark Leyner’s ability to keep his rambling psychotic rants on task and focused enough to the degree he maintained, with skill, the mind trip he wanted us privy to. Problem for me was not one story meant anything. There was no physical emotion anywhere amounting to something exampled. He failed to establish or express any substance. His tightrope act at times did appear astounding, but I kept asking myself why even bother? I know he is revered by many, and I respect that, but he is not adored by me. I will nonetheless still take a look at [b:Et Tu, Babe|526571|Et Tu, Babe|Mark Leyner|https://s.gr-assets.com/assets/nophoto/book/50x75-a91bf249278a81aabab721ef782c4a74.png|1247799], but only because I own it. ( )

Five stars just for the short "I was an infinitely hot and dense dot." One of the craziest, best pieces of American lit anywhere, anytime. ( )

James Joyce collaborating with the Marx brothers on a novel about Mark Leyner. Genre-bending stories and poems that all blend into one another. Like being in a great dream where everythign is impossible, but makes sense. ( )