Boyhood

That magic zone of love without possession, of work as game and game as life itself, the heart unprotected, the imagination unbound, was an incipiency, a hint or sketch of what another kind of human life might be. [Read more]

Water

Dr. Yew says I am mistaken in supposing it has to do with breath. The issue is water. Not too much, not too little. Too much even worse than too little. [Read more]

Oxtail

Slabs of oxtail jelly, Penny’s fresh-baked bread, chicken-liver paté, a side of lightly sautéed, sliced brussel-sprouts, a nice domestic gewürztraminer. I make a mental note to have pickled beets the next time we do this. [Read more]

Sushi Barn

Comic mashup of architectural junk, fake artefacts, labels, copies neither-more-nor-less authentic than the originals, ready-mades from our very real present. People in this world, even in dire situations, similarly encrypted by bad jeans, say, or an outdated and ugly camo-pattern headscarf. [Read more]

Klemperer’s Flute

The tinkling business and romantic ninnies all well and good, but the paydirt for me, without doubt, the teased-out erotic history of Sarastro and the Queen of the Night and the strange evocation of Masonic brotherhood as the highest form of Enlightenment. [Read more]