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⇢: March 23Have not seen her since that night. Unwell? Sits at the fire perhaps with mamma’s shawl on her shoulders. But not peevish. A nice bowl of gruel? Won’t you now?
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⇢: Spring Has ComeSpring has come. Perhaps there are sulla blossoms in the country. Here in the city is sun, and more rain than is really necessary. It cannot matter, can it? Even I suspect the growth of our child has nothing to do with time. Her name-wind will be here again; to soothe her face which is…
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⇢: Erased from the Time of MenHe was right, because during our time there was no one who doubted the legitimacy of his history, or anyone who could have disclosed or denied it because we couldn’t even establish the identity of his body, there was no other nation except the one that had been made by him in his own image…
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⇢: Inauguration…scratched on the plaster with a pin, formulas of love or revolt, more often of resignation: “Jojo of the Bastille loves his girl for life.” “My heart to my mother, my cock to the whores, my head to the hangman.” These rupestral inscriptions are almost always a gallant homage to womanhood, or a smattering of…
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⇢: She Liked the Drifting AwayFun typographical error from Tove Jansson’s Sun City, NYRB’s most recent book club pick.
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⇢: Paleopetrology11 March 2004. Somewhere amidst the fog of the Net, behind a seemingly forgotten website, in Hyperstition’s password-protected laboratory — a location for exploring a diverse range of subjects from the occult to fictional quantities, from warmachines to bacterial archeology, heresy-engineering and decimal sorceries (Qabalah, Schizomath, Decimal Labyrinth and Tic-xenotation), and swarming with renegade academics,…
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⇢: A Leonine FirstSnow pyramided the old Chevy and drifted deep in the streets, so Miller walked over, feeling faintly ridiculous. Hark ye to the White Bird. Oh boy. In the wind, he chainsmoked, lighting from the butt end of the old the new. The snow flew, though he could see, during lulls, that not much new snow…