Christian Molenaar

Category: Nothings

  • 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

  • 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

  • White Bird

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    Besides the old songs, they sang many new ones written by Brother Ben Wosznik, including his exultant “White Bird” ballad, that, perhaps more than any other single thing, most immediately conjoined them all to this common cause: On a cold and wintry eighth of January,Ninety-eight men entered into the mine,Only one of these returned to… Read more

  • Under Capricorn

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    “Lupe, you have a son?” Read more

  • Your Memory Is Not My Memory

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    Blink and you’ll miss the moment Saint Laurent’s titular protagonist gives the only moment of historical contextualizing on which so many biopics are built. Saint Laurent reminisces on his mother’s parties, “and their dresses, so 1940s,” and in that fragment gives the audience all we’ll receive of the history behind Saint Laurent’s “Hommage aux Annees… Read more

  • Screaming Headless Torsos

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    According to legend, it was a rose which foretold Rainer Maria Rilke’s death. Read more

Thought:

“Death does not come down to the bitter annihilation of being – of all that I am, which expects to be once more, the very meaning of which, rather than to be, is to expect to be (as if we never received being authentically, but only the anticipation of being, which will be and is not, as if we were not the presence that we are, but the future that will be and are not); it is also that shipwreck in the nauseous.”

Georges Bataille

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