The smoke alarm went off in the hallway upstairs, either to let us know the battery had just died or because the house was on fire.

Making things difficult for the reader is less an attack on the reader than it is on the age and its facile knowledge-market.

Past, present and future are not amenities of language. Time unfolds into the seamsof being. It passes through you, making and shaping.

days like this. i look at you and feel electric. tell me you don't feel it too."_Eric Packer

Ask yourself this question. Do we have to be humans forever? Consciousness is exhausted. Back now to inorganic matter. This is what we want. We want to be stones in a field.

If I were a writer, how I would enjoy being told the novel is dead. How liberating to work in the margins, outside a central perception. You are the ghoul of literature. Lovely.

I've got death inside me. It's just a question of whether or not I can outlive it.