For a long time the daydreams I had about my death took place in hotel rooms Iβd been inside of that I fantasized about when I thought I was probably nearing the end of my time on earth, sometimes the room first, a vague sense of anxiety and wanting to escape it, sometimes the rope first, the bullet, the pills.
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–this is like the moment in a movie about witchcraft when the witch stops time and walks around, picking things up and rearranging them in space through this glitch in time. So thatβs how the shape of the poem appears to me: I make thought-space where I need or desire it.
Annihilation, Happy Enemies and Worm.
In Carrie Lorigβs ‘The Blood Barn’, a hidden thesis exists. It is not ourselves that tell stories to ourselves in order to live; it is stories that live in order to tell ourselves.
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‘Body High’ is my new favorite LA novel. Itβs a postcard view of the city, but a postcard thatβs for sale at a sex shop and has been smeared with jizz from from a sleezy methhead leaving one of the backroom peepshows.
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