While facing a totally unknown new phase of my life, I had a feeling that I should push making music. I didn’t know what would happen and I didn’t have many songs written, but I wanted to try.
A Very Cold Winter – Fausta Cialente
War, and its constitutive masculinism, threatens everyone’s dreams, chances, and sense of selves.
Rahul Soni’s translation makes space in English for a bridge between the historic and the contemporary, offering a critique of power across time and space.
Boring Starvation: On Finding the Eating Disorder Book I Needed
For a while . . . I thought that no one should write about eating disorders at all because there was no way to do so without somehow glamorizing them.
The nose is not just cartilage and skin; it is inheritance, race, femininity, a mark of refusal, a repository of hatred and desire.
In painted portraits you can see the hand of the painter, the gestures, the point of view. All portraits are in a way self-portraits too. I wanted that to happen with this book as well.
In Bianco, intellectual conviction slips into conspiracy.
At stake in such multitudes, of which Reza’s novel surely is another substantial contribution, seems to be a fundamental rejection of the premise of Adorno’s dictum “To write poetry after Auschwitz is barbaric.”
women & roosters – Fenn Stewart
Good poetry is never arbitrary; it’s active and intentional, like an argument.
I wanted to focus on language alone and its sheer force, uncontained by formal, philosophical, and empirical systems and thought.