I don’t actually know where my faculties are
Platforms like Facebook require consistency between one’s online and offline selves. But maybe there’s something unnatural about trying to force this consistency.
For a brief moment in the cemetery, I wished it wasn’t my inheritance. That this wasn’t my story.
By merely wandering, the dérivist frustrates the spatial logic of capitalism, in the process discovering new currents, fissures, and vortices of possibility within a deeply familiar space.
Nell Zink’s prose may not expand into rolling curls of unconventional syntax, but it is nonetheless difficult. Her mercilessly enjoyable prose leaves itself open to serious moral misinterpretation.
The ability to choose is a luxury, a delightful freedom, a tricky exercise for a mammal that probably never imagined it would be asked to decide so much.
This Imaginary Half-Nothing: Time
There are dawns and noons and nightfalls, diseased interludes and riots and political turns, seasons of tumors and cures and poisons, and along with these the daily need to reproduce oneself as a living person.
I’ve been thinking a lot about the difference between giving a shit and giving a fuck. Or not giving a fuck, I guess.