Comments on: The uncanny pleasure of coincidence http://kurtandersen.com/blogwp/2007/03/27/the-uncanny-pleasure-of-coincidence/ Just another WordPress weblog Tue, 24 Nov 2009 06:52:51 +0000 http://wordpress.org/?v=2.9.1 hourly 1 By: cuttykurrty http://kurtandersen.com/blogwp/2007/03/27/the-uncanny-pleasure-of-coincidence/comment-page-1/#comment-458 cuttykurrty Sat, 12 Jan 2008 05:13:15 +0000 http://kurtandersen.com/blogwp/?p=17#comment-458 Uhhh, fyi, he's being a little too presumptuous with your excellence. Watch out. More admiringly than Brett, Joshie Uhhh, fyi, he’s being a little too presumptuous with your excellence. Watch out.

More admiringly than Brett,

Joshie

]]> By: Brett Busang http://kurtandersen.com/blogwp/2007/03/27/the-uncanny-pleasure-of-coincidence/comment-page-1/#comment-160 Brett Busang Wed, 28 Mar 2007 05:11:56 +0000 http://kurtandersen.com/blogwp/?p=17#comment-160 Dear Mr. Andersen: I am writing perhaps prematurely, as I have not read your book yet (though, whenever I have a few minutes at Union Station, I go to B. Dalton and read a random page or two.) A mystical friend of mine claims that there are no coincidences; that the future is pre-determined, in which case the most outlandish mishaps and spectacular convergences are supposed to happen. He cited our own meeting as a case in point. The die was already cast; when we met, we were just marching in lock-step with fate. Even in a fairly trivial sort of life, there seems to be a certain momentum not necessarily connected to the life itself, but part of something much larger. This lends a certain credence to the notion that everybody plays his part. Which may also give rise to a completely unorthodox sense of history, dunno. At any rate, I'm thrilled that you've gone and dealt with a time and place that is very dear to me and can't wait to have a go at the entire book, rather than the random page. I hated to see the New York that Twain, Whitman, and Melville saw disappear completely - when I lived there, that is. So many lost connections in a single building that goes quietly under! The only way we have to resurrect something with so little visible presence is to write about it. A book dealing with the past by a man who is so fully engaged in the present offers a fascinating paradox. I listen to the show all the time. You seem to move between cultures, time periods, and personal eccentricities without blinking an eye. Admiringly, Brett Busang Dear Mr. Andersen:

I am writing perhaps prematurely, as I have not read your book yet (though, whenever I have a few minutes at Union Station, I go to B. Dalton and read a random page or two.)

A mystical friend of mine claims that there are no coincidences; that the future is pre-determined, in which case the most outlandish mishaps and spectacular convergences are supposed to happen. He cited our own meeting as a case in point. The die was already cast; when we met, we were just marching in lock-step with fate.

Even in a fairly trivial sort of life, there seems to be a certain momentum not necessarily connected to the life itself, but part of something much larger. This lends a certain credence to the notion that everybody plays his part. Which may also give rise to a completely unorthodox sense of history, dunno.

At any rate, I’m thrilled that you’ve gone and dealt with a time and place that is very dear to me and can’t wait to have a go at the entire book, rather than the random page. I hated to see the New York that Twain, Whitman, and Melville saw disappear completely – when I lived there, that is. So many lost connections in a single building that goes quietly under! The only way we have to resurrect something with so little visible presence is to write about it. A book dealing with the past by a man who is so fully engaged in the present offers a fascinating paradox.

I listen to the show all the time. You seem to move between cultures, time periods, and personal eccentricities without blinking an eye.

Admiringly,

Brett Busang

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