Christian Molenaar

Category: Nothings

  • First Sun

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    Zurich in winter is often smothered in fog and low clouds for months on end. Prevailing winds from the north ram the clouds coming in from the Atlantic against the wall of the Alps, and there they stick. Gray day after gray day, in a gray city by a gray lake, split by a gray… Read more

  • Darkness Promises

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    Aside from Matt Wascovich, Scarcity of Tanks that night included Weasel Walter, Kid Millions, Jim Sauter of Borbetomagus, John Morton from the electric eels and Nick from Necking. Read more

  • Bloodlines

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    Eventually it became clear that they were leaving the mountain landscapes behind. Would they recognize them if they passed that way again? (Not that they had any plans to do so). They had folders full to bursting with souvenirs. “I can still see it in my mind’s eye…” ran the stock phrase. But why the… Read more

  • The Arteries of Trade

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    The most popular all-year explosive! Read more

  • The Future Sound of Rumford

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    Just shy of three decades ago: Lucas Abela’s first US tour, sharing the stage with Deerhoof and Crank Sturgeon at the legendary Geno’s in Maine. Abela had his first ever snowball fight, during which he pegged an unmarked police car with a snowball. Read more

  • Simple Answers

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    If my Contact page is dead, how did this end up in my spam? Read more

  • Big Gas Cycles

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    1998? Read more

  • Comic as Christmas

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    Merry Christmas from Babs, aka Willie Masters’ Lonesome Wife. Read more

  • Fragment

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    Mr Callanan felt homely. There was a good fire burning in the grate and he knew that it was cold outside. He had been about town all day shopping with Mrs Callanan and he had met many friends. These friends had been very friendly, exchanging the compliments of the season, joking with Mrs Callanan about… Read more

  • Late Season

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    Stay yet, pale flower, though coming storms will tear thee,My soul grows darker, and I cannot spare thee. Read more

Thought:

“It was the time when everybody was writing a memoir, so of course I began writing a memoir. I’d thought about writing a novel but nobody was writing novels any more. Memoir was taking the novel’s place, everyone said. And sure enough, at our local bookstore all the memoirs had crowded the novels over to a single corner of the New Titles table. You could still see this one guy who thought he was writing a novel hunched over his laptop in the bookstore’s Starbucks, but he typed much harder than he had to and had a funny smell when you got close. I didn’t want to be that guy, so I started writing a memoir instead…”

Edmond Caldwell

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