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The poetic animus appears in a dream, just out of reach. Images of elevators flash into my mind. I project them like ghosts onto the big screen. If you tell someone you’re going to do something, while subconsciously projecting animus upon them, it will almost certainly happen. “I’d kill to relieve the burden.” Ah, the… Continue reading Journal Sequence #12: Poetic Animus [around here]
Bad Behavior – Mary Gaitskill (5) A Man of Shadows – Jeff Noon (3) Calibration 74 – William F. Aicher (5) Reasons Only Time Allows – Micah Chaim Thomas (5) Blood on the Vine – Lynn-Cee Faulk (5) Drifts – Kate Zambreno (5) Negative Space – B.R. Yeager (5) Untold Night and Day – Bae… Continue reading 2021: Complete Reading List
My initial draft of anything is a series of flowing fragments. They are ideas, images, thoughts and feelings. They are connected by an overarching concept, but that would be unclear to anyone reading them at this stage. This writing is what I’m most in love with. I have never felt freer than when I am… Continue reading The Writing and The Writing
Suddenly, through the cracks in the asphalt, paving and brickwork: water. It’s raining upwards; the city is crying. Drowning me and everyone like me in its tears. My hair, my clothes, my skin: soaked. My eyelashes beaded with droplets. You can only write when you allow the world outside to slow down, because as it… Continue reading Journal Sequence #11: Remission [Appending]
I “But is it really so bad?” I almost leapt out of my seat at the sound of the voice, coarse and familiar like a long lost grandmother. It was, of course, my moon-self (as opposed to my sun-self, which I worship most often). Sun-selves are all about action and light and focus. Moon-selves are… Continue reading Flash: Machine in the Corner/Claws
Self-indulgence is a dirty word, and yet we are expected to know who we are. Is it feminine to write the personal? Tear everything up, Kafka said in his diary. And I hear him loud. Ash takes my head in his hands. He is naked. I see his tattooed arms and his slick hair. He… Continue reading Journal Sequence #10: Desktop Sunshine [Exit]
But there are snakes inside. One coils ever tighter around my heart and laughs. Another guards the rib cage, all smug. Another shoots venom into my gut. Another squeezes its head into my skull and talks to you through my mouth, my eyes. My breath, my only weapon. Exhale. Expand. Robots, the lot of them.… Continue reading Journal Sequence #9: There are Snakes Inside [Dreamframe]
The journal is the writer’s sketchbook. Document what you see, rough out whims and fantasies. Allow fragments and the poorest of punctuation. Allow any form whatsoever. Allow reality to melt into fiction. Stop thinking about how this will be perceived. There is no observer. We are only waves here. The dark-skinned lady with her bald… Continue reading Journal Sequence #8: Terrific [Runes]
Stuck. Looking at the manuscript. Not in detail, just the mass of it flat on the table. 74 pages of Calibri Regular, unevenly spaced. Sheets of notes torn up and spliced in with sticky tape. Hand-written jots in the margins, sometimes spanning pages, the only indication of place given by asterisks and little numbers in… Continue reading Glue in the Head
I’m in a metal box. It’s raining outside, maybe. No one is coming. Not ever. Sleep provides a refuge in which mind becomes one with its habitat. But I must emerge. The jewel is coming. I buzzed her in. Soon she’ll enter between the bars across my window. I selected her from thousands of possibilities.… Continue reading Flash Fiction: Metal Box
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