BOOKS FOR SYRIAN REFUGEES: HARUKI MURAKAMI

...over halfway, reading the epic masterpiece "1Q84" by Murakami...this motherfucker is in the pantheon with this fucker...in the hall of fame with this fucker...murakami meet solzhenitsyn...murakami meet kerouac...you think you can write...better keep that stocking position at Country Grocer bro, cause you ain't got shit...straight up...any syrian refugee you meet fresh off the boat you go to the bookstore and buy them this book...and tell em this is writing, this is storytelling at its highest...you think you can write...you ain't got shit on murakami...guy gets up at 4am writes for 5 hours and then goes and runs 10km...you got that kind of will...that kind of discipline...you got a 1,000 page novel in you of the highest quality...negro please...you think you can write...okay...writing assignment lil homie...write me a paragraph on a hotel lobby...any hotel lobby that comes into your imagination...describe it in one paragraph...cool...allright...pens down...now let's compare what you did to the master...

With its high ceiling and muted lighting, the capacious lobby of the Hotel Okura's main building seemed like a huge, stylish cave. Against the cave walls, like the sighing of a disemboweled animal, bounced the muted conversations of people seated on the lobby's sofas. The floor's thick, soft carpeting could have been primeval moss on a far northern island. It absorbed the sound of footsteps into its endless span of accumulated time. The men and women crossing and recrossing the lobby looked like ghosts tied in place by some ancient curse, doomed to the endless repetition of their assigned roles. Men were armored in tight fitting business suits. Slim young women were swathed in chick black dresses, here to attend a ceremony in one of the hotel's many reception room. They wore small but expensive accessories, like vampire finches in search of blood, longing for a hint of light they could reflect. A large foreign couple loomed like an old king and queen past their prime, resting their tired bodies on thrones in the corner.

...class dismissed...william brown...

...P.S....a couple of weeks later...late night...finished the book...went to bed...something woke me up...looked around...looked outside...saw the stars...saw TWO MOONS...the regular one...and a small green one...AM I THE ONLY ONE?...if you see two moons contact me...willy bee...with ESP ;)