1. Snog/Marry/Kill in the last classic you read
The last classic I read was William Gibson’s ‘Neuromancer’, which is a cyberpunk triumph! I think I’d snog Molly Millions (if she didn’t kill me first), marry Lady 3Jane because in my own weird way I’d probably enjoy all of the weird eccentric shit she gets up to in Straylight, and kill Armitage because I mean I don’t want to spoil it, but that guy’s all wacked up in a way that no love could fix.
2. An unlikely but excellent ship
I feel like Charlie Kelly and Frank Reynolds is a totally unsung ship that people need to set sail on. He pukes blood and womps rats in the dark, Frank is a 60-year-old man who eats garbage. He is the trash man! I mean, they already play Night Crawlers in their apartment so they’re half way there. I wonder how much Charlie’s troll toll is?
3. Who is your top number one dreamboat classic valentine?
You’re going to hate me Tamsin, but It’s gonna have to be Albert Camus. That guy is effortlessly cool. His trenchcoat wearing, smoking aesthetic just gets to me. I’d date him to hang on to each of his gorgeous French metaphors. Let him wax lyrical about Absurdist Philosophy to me all day long. At this point, I may as well cradle The Myth of Sisyphus every night before I go to sleep, so the pairing makes sense. He has this way of writing so in tune with his own senses that everything he describes just comes to life as soon as the words hit your brain. Philosophy’s James Dean, if you will (he even died unexpectedly in a car crash!)
4. What classic would be the worst valentine’s gift
That’s a tough one. I’d say avoid anything by Nietzsche… Ayn Rand’s Atlas Shrugged would be hilarious, simply because of how big it is. Here’s 1168 pages of dense, foreboding political philosophy… good luck carrying that around in your backpack, and the recesses of your brain!
5. What classic would you give to someone for them to get the hint that you’re not that into them?
I’d probably give them Love is a Dog from Hell by Bukowski. It’s just full of really honest, bordering on gross poems about love and sex written by some crusty old dude. He comes across as a bit of a lowlife, but he has this strange enduring appeal. Reading it is like picking scabs... To be honest, it might actually come back to bite me if they were into it, but I’m willing to take the risk just to see the reaction.
Jordan Oloman
