And so life is reckoned as nothing. Habitualization devours works, clothes, furniture, one’s wife, and the fear of war. ‘If the whole complex lives of many people go on unconsciously, then such lives are as if they had never been.’ And art exists that one may recover the sensation of life; it exists to make […]
The coldest I have ever been was in Canada. Quebec City, I think. I was fifteen or sixteen and on the way up, we almost died. I mean—we probably did almost die. My father drove my mother’s sports car through a blizzard. We were passing an eighteen wheeler. A chunk of ice dislodged from the […]
photographs taken with a minolta x-700 and expired film.
Friday night I spent a few hours and three bottles of wine with G and C, in an evening that started out almost formally, literarily (G cooked a most amazing vegan Indian meal; they spent about an hour and a half bestowing wisdom on me re: graduate school) and devolved quickly into the sort of […]
all photographs taken in Warsaw and Krakow, Poland with a Canon t1i and 24-105mm f/4 L-series lens.
I take every day as it comes. If it’s a bad day and I don’t want to go out, I don’t need to go out. I’ve got enough food in the house, I’ve got the warmth, I’ve got a car, I still drive and you know I feel, I don’t need anything else, I’ve enough […]
Agnes & BB is a bi-weekly fiction series that I’m writing in conjunction with Amanda. We’ll be telling the same story from the perspective of two different characters. You can read BB’s story here and Agnes’ story via Amanda’s blog. Agnes hasn’t said a word in ten minutes and I’m getting worried she’s gone silent again. She smokes one […]
Given the outlandish quality of some hypnopompic images, their often terrifying emotional resonance, and perhaps the heightened suggestibility that may go with such states, it is very understandable that hypnopompic visions of angels and devils may not engender only wonder or horror but belief in their physical reality. Indeed, one must wonder to what degree […]
photographs taken with a minolta x-700.
I’m writing about windows and reading about hallucinations. Are you sure that’s a good book for you? he says. It’s evening and pitch black and cold. I’ve drawn the curtains and thought very hard about tea. But it loses out to another finger of whisky. On the computer screen his face is fuzzy and about […]
