Christian Molenaar

Category: Nothings

  • 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

  • Nobody Else Around

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    After the war he worked with Teller. They detonated bombs capable of reducing fairly large parcels of the known world to uninhabitable rubble. Everybody hated Teller and they hated my father. Too bad. I dont know what to tell you about his sleep. I never slept either. And I didnt bomb anybody. Read more

  • The First Noel

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    It had snowed lightly in the night and her frozen hair was gold and crystalline and her eyes were frozen cold and hard as stones. One of her yellow boots had fallen off and stood in the snow beneath her. The shape of her coat lay dusted in the snow where she’d dropped it and… Read more

  • A Human Yo-Yo Gets to an Apocheir

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    Christmas Eve, 1955, Benny Profane, wearing black Levi’s, suede jacket, sneakers and big cowboy hat, happened to pass through Norfolk, Virginia. Given to sentimental impulses, he thought he’d look in on the Sailor’s Grave, his old tin can’s tavern on East Main Street. He got there by way of the Arcade, at the East Main… Read more

  • Worth a Look

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    It was the morning of December 21, 1931. Sandusky was sixty miles away, and he slept through most of the ride, not waking until the bus reached the terminal two and a half hours later. He had just over three hundred dollars in his pocket: the two hundred fifty from Meers, another fifty he had… Read more

Thought:

“You can write on a wall with a fish heart, it’s because of the phosphorous. They eat it. There are shacks like that down along the river. I am writing this to be as wrong as possible to you. Replace the door when you leave, it says. Now you tell me how wrong that is, how long it glows. Tell me.”

Anne Carson | “Short Talk on Shelter”