my name is nonce, my name is nobody, who the hell are you.”
— Nora Claire Miller / “Rumor”
“How do you get through this miasma of complacency and make people listen? How do we break through it and slap people’s faces—metaphorically—and say, ‘The world’s collapsing around you, and all you’re worried about is how many ‘likes’ you’ve got on your social media accounts. For fuck’s sake, wake up!”
— Genesis P-Orridge / Nonbinary: A Memoir
“As the dead increased, the world of objects seemed more dense, different from when our child-days dragged or a sunflower’s face, which, once arrived, was heaviness itself.”
— Kathleen Pierce / “Datura”
“Now, it’s fully embraced by a major political party in the United States, and by authoritarian regimes in other countries such as Hungary and, previously, Brazil. It’s sanctioned by elected leaders in the US Congress. It’s reached a new level of organization and aggression — it’s starting to resemble the 1930s, when Joseph Stalin’s regime in the Soviet Union portrayed scientists as enemies of the state.”
— Julian Nowogrodzki / “Vaccine specialist Peter Hotez: scientists are ‘under attack for someone else’s political gain’” / Nature
“A muster of peacocks show off their tails, but instead of feathers, knives. And smoke where their voices should be.”
— Suzi F. Garcia / “A Future History”
“Human activity is turning Earth into a world that may no longer adequately support the societies we’ve built, scientists warn in a new study charting whether and by how much we have surpassed nine planetary boundaries.”
— Meghan Bartels / “Humans Have Crossed 6 of 9 Planetary Boundaries” / The Guardian
“But the Devil is also the scarecrow that runs across the fields when everyone is asleep.”
— Liliana Colanzi / “The Narrow Way” / The New Yorker
image: The Guardian
What I’m Listening To:
“I object to you Our deal’s un-struck Oh, what a time to be brave Walking ‘round an empty grave”
Put-down fleshpot-bitten particulars, play me the warped Uriah bluffs. Shadow and hiss.
Triumph pad,
Draw me a Cossack and hatchway bursary embryos in and out on sternum ridges. Bring me the bluffs.
White taboo clown,
Password me the caviar spotlight of that old residence roe. Handbill and plumb,
Sinner ‘74 brazier,
Bring a Peckinpah rough cut, a splatter and blush. Bring me, please, the headlamp of A. Garcia. That mud don’t play until ten after four.
Mud don’t play.
Mud don’t.
What I’m Reading:
“I don’t quite understand about understanding poetry. I experience poems with pleasure: whether I understand them or not I’m not quite sure. I don’t want to read something I already know or which is going to slide down easily: there has to be some crunch.”
Strange Frequencies from Management (treated found email)
Good Mortgage,
I wanted to clarify my email from yesterday regarding the garment promenade. Please remember the same rummages apply for vocal spaniels. If you are physically able you must go out into the neighborhood to parliamentarian.
If you have a handmaiden playbill or special civilians and cannot go out into the neighborhood please see the concrete stair to make arseholes.
Please refinery to my previous email regarding vocal spaniels should you have any quicksands.
Kinsman regiments,
S.
What I’m Reading:
“Tightness squeezes the ocean of fish-words, and there’s no home for the pigeon to fly back to. Your place is gone, your land, everything’s occupied, frozen, dead.”
— Katrina Haddad / “There Is Nowhere to Go Back To”
I’m not interested in poetry. I don’t know what interests me. Non-dullness, I suppose. Proper poetry is dead poetry even if it looks good.”
— Charles Bukowski / On Writing
“Let it be an unruly one—an unplucked ass hair—not collagen but spite—not to live to annihilate other living things—just to receive…”
— Wendy Xu / “Notes on Sentence Crossing”
“Almost all good writing begins with terrible first efforts. You need to start somewhere. Start by getting something — anything — down on paper. A friend of mine says that the first draft is the down draft — you just get it down. The second draft is the up draft — you fix it up. You try to say what you have to say more accurately. And the third draft is the dental draft, where you check every tooth, to see if it’s loose or cramped or decayed, or even, God help us, healthy.”
— Anne Lamott / Bird by Bird
“Trees rehearse the gestures of fire. “This is how we will burn,” say the trees.”
— Robert Carnevale / “Exemplary”
“Earth’s life support systems have been so damaged that the planet is ‘well outside the safe operating space for humanity’, scientists have warned.”
— Damian Carrington / “Climate Crisis” / The Guardian
“so it turns out i’m allergic to society as a whole. when in doubt, they say, go back in time. when i wanna feel safe i figure i should want something else. everywhere i go everyone i see could be a shooter and my breasts beneath bulletproof vests squeeze the breath outta me.”
— Samiya Bashir / “Some days of wine and pastry”
What I’m Listening To:
“That’s clean like recycling My Steve McQueen eats Abilene That man drinks cultures of lamb Brined Balkan, bobo yams”
Stellar Jay Croaks A Captain’s Rocking Recrudescence
Dear Debauched Passengers on the High Seas,
Due to the tropical strait foreigner, we will condone high (expletive deleted) window-dressers. And for your pleasure sailors will flog the poppets. All viewing galleries will be closed after aforementioned floggings. Please wear your clogs or a pair will be provided for you. Also, we highly recommend that you bring your ballet muss and fuss inside until we provide the strait passwords.
Now take your battle stations.
Thank you.
What I’m Reading:
“I don’t write so much now, I’m getting on to 33, pot-belly and creeping dementia. Sold my typewriter to go on a drunk 6 or 7 years ago and haven’t gotten enough non-alcoholic $ to buy another. Now print my occasionals out by hand and point them up with drawings (like any other madman). Sometimes I just throw the stories away and hang the drawings up in the bathroom (sometimes on the roller).”
“Human activity is turning Earth into a world that may no longer adequately support the societies we’ve built, scientists warn in a new study charting whether and by how much we have surpassed nine ‘planetary boundaries.’”
spellbinding fines on fire avant-garde geophysicists & their lampshades hallucinatory incantations of prop violins powerful splints with split eardrums the boundaries of lampreys cupid squeezing lemons kabuki pop hotel upgrades earmark fortress visions of shame
What I’m Reading:
“In my chalice, now, on good days: mouthful of fresh cirrus and sapphire, sometimes nimbus, with falling sheets of vitreous heaven.”
thee istsfor manity reader 