Someone’s There | on loneliness

I try to keep busy. I have my code, my books, my writings, my personal trainer. I have friends to chew the fat with. The flat doesn’t feel all that empty. Someone’s there, in a way. It’s when I go out that I see them. A woman carrying groceries in the bus. She’s going home … Continue reading Someone’s There | on loneliness →

Tiers of Horror | a note

Horror, trash tier: the movie Oculus, which I once watched having decided I had abstained from horror far too long. Manipulative and meaningless, it didn't make a good case for lifting the ban. Some cool scares: I have seen the Devil, and he is me. Yet you kinda wish you had looked away--it's just not … Continue reading Tiers of Horror | a note →

Nocturne | abstract horror

The ceiling of the chapel house is adorned with a grid of gargoyles. In the floor beneath each sculpture they have put a photograph of it with an explanation. Winged lion for Mark the Evangelist. Two generic quadrupeds with human faces displaying their posteriors for Lust. And two winged monsters whose meaning is not known. … Continue reading Nocturne | abstract horror →

in Why Vandalism? 3 pieces of flash horror

One dressed up as ekphrastic essay: Notes on Glass Tears One subtle cross with fantasy: Empty Houses One fragment of militaristic dystopia: Sardine  Notes on Glass Tears 1. The print is of an eye; more precisely, the photograph of an eye. The eye presents in a state of abstract … Continue reading in Why Vandalism? 3 pieces of flash horror →

Pocket Monsters (I Wanna Be The Very Best) | a remix

Gary extends his hand and his fingers dance absently over the head of his Zapagochi, between its long yellow ears. Small electric charges tickle him, making him smile. The Zapagochi was his first monster. He remembers how he would hear his parents scream at each other as a small boy with toy robots in his … Continue reading Pocket Monsters (I Wanna Be The Very Best) | a remix →

The Batmen Came | a mash-up; after Gil-Scott Heron

The batmen came and kicked us while we were already down. They hit us with billy clubs and loosed the dogs on us. We heard their capes spread on the night breeze, heard the jackboots hit the concrete. And we said the batmen are coming, the batmen are here. Caught glimpse of leather glisten in the … Continue reading The Batmen Came | a mash-up; after Gil-Scott Heron →

Onward | a dream

The planet was dead-- bleached sky and dry soil (dry soul?). The utopia-machines lay broken and defunct. Uninhabitable, like the air you can no longer breathe. Cherry flexes her shoulder and leg muscles in the cramped little spaceship, munching on olives. The shipment of drupes was the only sustenance she could muster for the journey. … Continue reading Onward | a dream →

Drunk Psychogeography | a prose poem

Home. Orange lamplight smeared like oil on canvas. Lying in my own vomit I try to remember. When was that? Where did it happen? What do you call this city. All the arcades a blur. Strolling the streets at night: Haze of place-names and out-of-joint watering holes. I remember the bar on the balcony, the … Continue reading Drunk Psychogeography | a prose poem →