They've gone up into the mountains and built a city that stretches into the clouds. Any stranger who begins the climb will be shot before they get very far. But then we get the news that their leader has been killed. It's very cold, and they must be starving, the old people and the children huddled up in blankets up there. We invade. We bring the future. The future is for the women and those that do good. So we kill them when we find them, men of the past and old women so weathered by hardships they've forgotten how to be soft. Only those who can argue well that they have a place in the kingdoms of tomorrow are left alive and allowed to leave over the ocean.

We judge them worthy by their arguments, and let the Northern Wind live, as he declares himself shaped by Modernity, a figure of speech as much as an old force of nature. It would turn out to be a mistake, of course.

I'll kidnap you

and take you to the amnesia island

where we can live happily ever after

in ignorance.

I wrote my PhD application in a ring of salt.

The week that went

two bouquets of white flowers: roses and cloves.
lounging about in a fox fur and nothing else.
radical feminist manifesto performed by theatre students wearing hazmat suits.
work-wine balance, understanding photographs (momentality reappears), a book about flesh.
revolutionary contortions of impressive technical quality but lacking thematic originality. surely we can think of some new, non-french, non-communist ways to destroy society?
the quality of liquefied light.
memes about death or the death-drive or just the general human condition of persistent anxiety.
waking up several times between four and five in the morning having dreamt, for instance, that you were grieving deeply over a loved one and i couldn't do anything to comfort you.
sitting in bright lights saying things about fiction and the difference between women and lamps.
heavily objectifying friends.
smoking about nine cigarettes.
writing.
eating.
editing.
sitting in the shower concentrating deeply on not existing in the present.

my hands are always cold