Christian Molenaar

Category: Nothings

  • Ravaged

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    A short corollary to December’s ramble on Apollo: Melville’s “The Ravaged Villa.” Read more

  • Germans

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    In the dream he watched some ersatz lothario press up against his wife after hearing her say you’d never be able to give her a million dollars and the man offered her a new life which excited her and they kissed and it reminded him of a dream her father had told her where his… Read more

  • Anamnesis

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    The girl from the pharmacy who delivered Darvon to Philip K. Dick, the science fiction writer, wore a golden fish necklace. Read more

  • 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

  • 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

Thought:

“Dirty Little Stones in Antwerp, who heart darkest?
Red Light District by river boat, I went the farthest“

billy woods | “crawlspace”