The naive, the unconstructed, the accidental ghost. The ghost from the faded polaroid found in a shoebox of letters from someone else’s life. Things that might not be there; things that have no existence other than possibly not being there; things that can only have your attention drawn to them. Reading should be as close as possible to discovering those letters and seeing something in them that might not be there. The writer should offer the shoebox, or better still the stall at the flea market on which the shoebox might be found. I’m not interested in any other way of writing anyway.
I’m working quite hard on something for the next few days. If you’re bored coming here to run the same old sand through your fingers in hopes of a nugget of attractive sea worn glass only to find the same old ringpulls from the same old cans etc etc, you could go and look at these two videos from Arc magazine instead: http://youtu.be/08bZpGm_kPc and http://youtu.be/F9G3rtu3ayM Who knows, there might be something entertaining there, even if it’s only the weird background noise. Various issues of Arc magazine itself have: the first of the Autotelia stories, “In Autotelia” (the second of which, “Cave & Julia” can be found at the Kindle store), along with cheap nonfictional shots at the heritage industry, the publicity of science and (forthcoming) the future. Oh, and a review of J Robert Lennon’s Familiar, which I quite enjoyed.
one day– you were 13– a mysterious book with no dust jacket appeared on the shelves of the local library– no blurb no author’s name no title on the spine– between covers that weren’t any color at all– you read it & have been looking out for it since in everything else you read or watch or listen for– in everything that’s invented & everything that isn’t– you’ve been trying to write it into existence again– that was the Robert Johnson moment in your life– everyone’s had one.
“If you love something, set it free. If it comes back to you, it’s uncanny how it will now get on your nerves.” –Sandra Newman.
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