Young cool grandpa David Byrne turned 60 on Monday. (Shut up, it's relevant, he's an author too). Please jam this while you read this round-up.The Sunday Styles had a totally relevant, not at all ridiculous piece about Jay McInerney this weekend. Excerpt: "When contacted through the British Museum to ask if his own personal history could be illuminated by an object in his possession, Mr. MacGregor would not say. But Jay McInerney (above) would. Moreover, he revealed that when his own creative juices are clotting up, he reaches over to his desk and picks up, of all things, an Acheulean hand ax." Haha what? Acheulean hand ax? What is this article even about? Can somebody tell me? Not sure what's most preposterous here, the clumsy segue from MacGregor and the British Museum to the hand ax, the thinly veiled penis stuff (right?), or the idea that Jay McInerney could be above anything.Carlos Fuentes died yesterday. Now it's up to Marquez to rep El Boom solo.Uh oh, people are getting bent out of shape about nonfictioners stretching the truth again. Keep ya head up, Sedaris.Speaking of nonfiction, did you check out the Barnstorm blog's new column, Nonfiction Pizza Party, which debuted yesterday? "Nonfiction Pizza Party is perfect, just like my sentences. Ten out of ten Acheulean hand axes!"--Jay McInerneyJacket Copy has the best headline ever: "Stay e-gold Ponyboy: The Outsiders becomes an e-book." Ugh, I'm genuinely jealous of that. Stay gold Ponyboy never fails. P.S. The Outsiders is our look for summer. You can be Sleeveless Jean Jacket if I can be Mean Mickey Muscle Shirt on the far left.Maile Meloy has a story in the New Yorker this week. Interview here. Check it out, her collection Half In Love is pretty great.Related: Maile Meloy's brother is Colin Meloy of The Decemberists. This isn't new, but if you have never seen this Infinite Jest-inspired video for Calamity Song you should watch it right now. Eschaton, you guys. Eschaton.Also from the New Yorker, a new blog called Page Turner. Yesterday they ran this item by Judith Thurman about a new Lydia Davis translation of Flaubert. I'm sure you will find it completely relatable: "I am halfway through Lydia Davis's masterly new translation of Madame Bovary, a novel I have never read in my mother tongue. The red leather binding of my French copy, now forty years old, is held together with gaffer's tape. I could once recite whole swathes of the original, and, prompted by the English, Flaubert's lapidary phrases are coming back to me." Sounds divoiiiine. Hey Judith, if your juices get clotted up while you're reading be sure to reach for your Acheulean hand ax! What's that? Already have it out? Ya don't say.--Erin Somers