Smoke Signals: A New Technology of Control

HR smokes pot. Your mom smokes pot.

The Cracks in the Wall

All the surfaces were clean, and the faucets did not leak. There were no cracks in any of the walls or ceilings. There seemed to be no need for maintenance anywhere. The new LED system meant that light bulbs never needed to change. Summer and winter, the temperature adjusted itself quietly and without notice. No […]

A High Dose

“This is what happens when you have unsupervised internet access from the time you’re six years old.”

One without a Double

These objects left strange impressions on the soft, readily receptive tissue of his grey matter. In these privileged moments, he thought he glimpsed, in the midst of this seemingly total state of absurdity, traces of an order, a whole—a laughing pattern. It wasn’t any different from the hobby of a birdwatcher or of a child picking up shells at the shore and putting them to his ear and listening to his own blood.

The Socket

Cole passed on the six-foot-tall talking vegetables, the human-animal hybrids, and the fantastical beasts (centaurs, etc.). That seemed a bit much. 

The Man Machine

The question – and the quest – is to discover alternative ways of understanding and living in the body. Instead of seeing the body as a machine, we can consider it as a way of knowing and a way of relating. Instead of presenting itself as a mechanical contraption, subject to breakdown, the body might present itself as a portal, a way to make contact with Reality.

The Lock

Alex carried the briefcase over to the coffee table. His living room was dusty, very much a bachelor pad. Some empty bottles of Miller High Life were sitting on his coffee table. The laptop he used to watch Netflix and listen to a raunchy sports podcast was seated next to them.  Alex pushed the laptop […]

The Fabled Pinhole

The walls are always closing in, but we never actually get crushed –
Compacted to a cartoon flatness until we shake ourselves back to 3D.

God’s Eye

His red eyeball pushed up
Against the window,
Sharp-lined, a Great Eye of Ra.

Frog Spawn

I can hear it sometimes, the humming noise from that bog in my old backyard. Like, it wants me back. Like the frogs want me back in the mud. And the insects. Making a noise that barely makes sense but still makes some sense. Making a noise like the whole world’s loud demented prayer.