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This Tremendous Lover

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This Tremendous Lover

Article

This Tremendous Lover is a recurring book in the Collected Agenda archive, appearing 2 times across 2 issues between February 25, 2026 and March 06, 2026. The archive places it in contexts such as “This Tremendous Lover (Eugene Boylan, 1946)”; “He’d recommended some literature. This Tremendous Lover (Eugene Boylan, 1946)“. It most often appears alongside Banana Republic, Brandy Melville, California.

Metadata

  • Category: Books
  • Mention count: 2
  • Issue count: 2
  • First seen: February 25, 2026
  • Last seen: March 06, 2026

Appears In

Source Context

Recovered passages from the original issue text. When the raw archive preserved outbound links inside the source passage, they are listed directly under the quote.

Life-in-a-lab
February 25, 2026 · Original source
Some miscellaneous book recommendations in slightly more esoteric vein that I received from trusted sources this week: This Tremendous Lover (Eugene Boylan, 1946), The Jewel Ornament of Liberation (Gampopa), The Gnostic Gospels (Elaine Pagels, 1979). More on esoteric books soon <3
Inline links: This Tremendous Lover, The Jewel Ornament of Liberation, The Gnostic Gospels
Humanoid-Robots
March 06, 2026 · Original source
I have decided to quit vice because unless I take my self-experimentation seriously, nothing interesting is going to happen. I don’t take so much pleasure in denying myself the things that I want. At The Marlton Hotel lobby, I was two hours late to meet my aunt for lunch and hungover and she called my father and asked if I was maybe in El Salvador again or perhaps just kidnapped. Small box apartment. No greenhouse roof. I wore an A-line skirt and Banana-Republic-black-top and picked my way across sunlight-streaming in Washington Square Park to arrive late and empty handed. I ran into Olivia in the hotel lobby, and she was glowing with discipline-of-lent and the sign of the cross in black ash on her forehead. I can’t become religious because I can’t even deny myself the things I want, I’d told Joe, a few days earlier. I hadn’t been drinking that night. Well you know what they say about failure rendering humility, he had said, in response, with a smile. And he’d admired my sincerity. And I’d admired his generosity. He’d recommended some literature. This Tremendous Lover (Eugene Boylan, 1946). I’d purchased the texts on ThriftBooks.com and then I’d fallen to sleep listless. Things became worse and then better. In The Marlton Hotel lobby, my aunt asked me if I liked when bad things happened because bad things help my writing. I HATE when bad things happen, I said in response. I HATE when I suffer. I do not WANT to be resilient. I cited a few of my favorite authors who-never-suffered. I like early Babitz and Fanny HOWE, I decreed. I like the-architecture-of-happiness and feng shui and feeling observational. Fanny Howe is kind of sad, my aunt shrugged in response. I hate her POETRY, I said. I picked at my avocado and smoked salmon and did not do so well at modulating my voice. Anyways, it’s more fun though sometimes risky to view measures of necessity as measures of languid experimentation. But nothing interesting happens when nothing gets better or nothing gets worse. And as already mentioned, I hate when things get worse.

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