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February 12, 2019
(I want nothing short of not being brief. It’s a peccadillo. Chickens take longer
Than they did. If I wasn’t kind today, it’s because I am feeling out of sorties like a movie
That ends before anything gets said that might resolve the question
Of why anyone would spend time making or watching a movie, or a bed.
February 5, 2019
I was beginning to sense a pattern. Not that I knew what the pattern was, just that one was coming into view. It had something to do with the babysitter. I didn’t hire her, and refuse to be blamed. Sharon hired the babysitter; I spotted the pattern.
January 29, 2019
“I had a problem for you, and you didn’t solve it.” “It was imaginary.” “Not all that appears reappears. It may be only once that you glimpse Pythagoras.” “Did you say Pythagoras?” “Might could be, apparently so.” “Was your problem related to math?” “Of an existential dimension.” “That’s the sort that interested me before my career set in.”
January 22, 2019
The clatter of rain has a personal meaning.
This is the time to meditate or write down your dreams.
But the lover can do neither, can only wander
From room to room trying not to spill what’s so precious.
January 15, 2019
Outside the stars were fading and the sky was slowly rosying at the edges when we found the skeleton. At first it was visible only as a clutch of white daggers, thickly clotted with spiderwebs, compressed between the plaster wall and the heavy wooden timbers. I don’t know what I expected it to be.
January 8, 2019
On the bus, we were told to remember everything, to testify, testify, testify. We’d heard this many times before. Remember and testify, they would say, in order that this or that bad thing does not happen again. I harbored no such faith in remembering. Nor in testimony. I fail to believe in them still.
January 1, 2019
Someone shouted at me to grab a blanket or a coat or something for crissakes, the narrator of The Bystander says, and wrap your old man up, because after assaulting the woman the narrator’s father liked best, and after running out with nothing on but the soap from the bath he’d been taking with her, the narrator’s father is standing on the street, shouting imprecations at her,
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Unnameable Books celebrates the Curiosity issue of Conjunctions
Wednesday, February 27, 2019
7:00 pm – 9:00 pm
Unnameable Books, 600 Vanderbilt Ave, Brooklyn, NY 11238