Christian Molenaar

Author: cdmolenaar

  • The Dark Air

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    February. Valentine’s Day. Snow and sleet all over the country. For thirty minutes or so, the bus from Huddersfield wound its way through exhausted mill villages given over to hairdressing, dog breeding and an under-capitalized tourist trade. I got off it at three o’clock in the afternoon, but it seemed much later. The face of… Read more

  • Confirmed

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    Shards of old prophecies broke kaleidoscopically on her mind, as memories of old conflicts, old conquests, streamed out into pattern, rationally ordered. He opened his eyes and looked at her. A sudden terror gripped her: he was Italian, a Roman Catholic, a stranger, she knew nothing about him, a laborer in the mines, would he… Read more

  • As Far As I Know

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    Let me get the story straight.He had gone to the ballet. Read more

  • Amoebas

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    I grew up with the piano, I learned its language while I learned to speak. Read more

  • Inauguration Day

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    I am not altogether sympathetic to the new President. Read more

  • The Brown Building 1/17/2025

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    I loved the concept for this show: the Brown Building’s proprietor and Make Believe DIY head Matty asked me to open for LA-based violinist Lina Tullgren; Amy Cimini on viola and I on cello would round out a sort of deconstructed string trio. Read more

  • Breaking a Few Eggs

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    “Fried onions, marmalade, maple syrup, bacon, tomatoes, covered with hot mayonnaise with some garlic fried in it and a little cheese sauce” is how David Amram assembled an omelette for Charlie Parker according to his 1968 book Vibrations. The pair “wolfed down portions of it” accompanied by borscht and orange soda. Read more

  • Sadness Ends

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    RIP to the actual greatest to ever do it. Read more

  • Without Bitterness

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    Knowing how tormenting I can find even the smallest things, I deliberately avoid them. Imagine how someone like me, who suffers when even a cloud obscures the sun, must suffer in the dark day that has always been his life! Read more

  • Fire Dance

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    Everywhere I go it’s like a ghost town. Read more

Thought:

“he is born and I am undone—feel as if I will / never be, was never born. // Two years later I obliterate myself again / having another child … for two years, there’s no me here.”

Alice Notley