i remember an early issue of mcsweeney making me so giddy i had to first sink my stomach back to earthamburger before i opened it. and the journal said on the table beside me humming with such potential it was vibrating and glowing. it was an object of art and mystery. it seemed like a time machine. it was a fraction but brimming with the future of literature and yes a time machine seems appropriate because it is no accident that dave edgars sure this price with legendary rebels rosset and lorentz, editors with no lack of courage with tireless romanticism. david, you launched the next samuel beckett and allen ginsburg on the world and did it at a time when publishing seemed strapped to life-support. why creating books of tremendous beauty that might not have that other wise, fathomless the new books. do fostered a golden age of literary publishing reminiscent of good old days, lost times i thought i had missed out on. luckily for us you did it right here in the present. the initial correspondence of work force that might be quarterly to explain the arrived like some carow shot backward