The Ever-Processing Machine

I can’t find my incense. I don’t want to write. I desperately want nothing more than to write. For ever. So then, perhaps I’m just a stymied masochist at heart(less), doomed to miserable inaction for the rest of my days. I do not dedicate myself as I should, as I need. . . There’s a…Read more The Ever-Processing Machine

Bread Crumbs

Wrinkles sagging with weariness, Gretel June seated her crooked torso on the last clear surface in the house: a padded footstool. The world swam in complete and terrifying circles around her, and closing her eyes only made it worse. She felt a lump in her throat that had nothing whatsoever to do with her heart, and much more to do with her stomach. Everything swirled so fast! Ancient, knotted hands cupped a steaming mug of hot liquid, which she blew on periodically, but never sipped...

an abandoned subversion

... watching Fellowship of the Ring -- thinking that we desperately need to keep alive certain fictions in our lives. The ones which invigorate our hearts to defy what is for the sake of what can be. . . Mythic culture is anti-realist, and yet it is the most true to Realism's heart (don't tell…Read more an abandoned subversion

Midnight’s Children, by Salman Rushdie

Salman Rushdie's novel, Midnight's Children, won the 1981 Booker Prize, and in 1993 it was decided that Midnight's Children was the 'Booker of Bookers', or the best book to win the Booker Prize in a quarter century. The author of six novels, Rushdie has won awards from several countries for his writing over the years,…Read more Midnight’s Children, by Salman Rushdie