Author and futurist J.G. Ballard died yesterday. My favorite books by Ballard were “Crash,” “High Rise,” and “the Atrocity Exhibition,” a well-read copy of which sits in my car as I type this.
Sometime in the past six mos, this blog turned into an Obit for the great cultural influences and loves of my life. I apologize. This one hits harder than any of the others, save maybe for Lux’s death. Ballard was, along with Burroughs, Jean Genet, and Henry Miller, one of my favorite literary stylists. I loved his intellect and his language. I can’t help thinking of him every time I see a car wreck or footage of the Kennedy assassination.
Thanks for the scars, Jim.