Christian Molenaar

Category: Nothings

  • July 1

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    Kafka’s diary, July 1, 1914 Read more

  • Memorial Day

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    After the ceremony we went out for dim sum and argued about our apartment. When our Lyft driver came he said we were his first partiers of the night. We told him we were going to my mom’s house. He was listening to a podcast about Memorial Day. The host spoke in low, grave tones,… Read more

  • Cowboy

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    The cowboy hat sits high on the crown of his patchy scalp, stilted and unnatural. Read more

  • Now Spring Had Come

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    The 22nd of March 1832 had come.  In his armchair, a coverlet upon his knees, the green shade over his eyes, Goethe died.  The dread and anxiety that often precede death by some time were over and done; he suffered no more, he had suffered himself out.  And when he asked what day of the month it was, and… Read more

Thought:

“I must make sure my book does not lack the language gouged from the mouth and heaped on the subject, tongue sprung and magnificent. Mine — my book — can hold torrents.”

Samuel R. Delany