a squib of a thing: Port Maggie Smith launches You Could Make This Place Beautiful: A Memoir — source: https://bookmarks.reviews/reviews/you-could-make-this-place-beautiful-a-memoir/
Justin E.H. Smith’s book The Internet Is Not What You Think It Is is not what I thought it was & is not what it says it is, A History, A Philosophy, A Warning: it’s the reverse …so what is it? Here’s some bits I liked: Just as in the nineteenth and twentieth centuries the global economy was dominated by natural-resource extraction, today the world’s largest companies have grown as large as they have entirely on the promise of providing to their clients the attention,
an excerpt from Manon Revuelta’s consideration of Sriwhana Spong’s exhibition “Luzpomphia” Spong chose to make these works using the process of investment casting, whereby the cast object retains a more intimate material presence. Rather than pouring the molten bronze into a wax mould of the apple, it floods the apple itself within a ceramic shell, immediately eviscerating it, swallowing it, flesh,
looking through the box called N O X___F R A T E R___ N O X that Anne Carson wrote for her brother, the epitaph, ... I was trying to find a name.a name for new project, a photographic project. I have never, in fact I have avoided photoingpeople | as much as I have avoided proper names, in places. Places... as Carson writes, Places inthe world
Dubravka Ugrešić R.I.P. literature? 27 March 1949 – 17 March 2023 Who knows, maybe one day there will no longer be Literature. Instead there will be literary web sites. Like those stars, still shining but long dead, the web sites will testify to the existence of past writers. There will be quotes, fragments of texts, which prove that there used to
the free and creative play of transcendental ideas ::: illustrated with three paintings by Wolfe von Lenkiewicz Another kind of madness, constantly wanting to draw attention to one’s own insights, like some placard-carrying apocalyptic in Time’s Square. — Damian Lanigan, The Ghost Variations, Weatherglass Books, 2022, opened at random, p. 69 I’m writing a long note about cinematic time but, as always, encountered something along
Julio Cortázar says, “Each of Pizarnik’s poems is the hub of an enormous wheel.” Si pour un fois de nouveau le regard bleu dans le sac rempli de poussière–je parle de moi, j’ai le droit–cette attente, cette patience–si pour une fois de nouveau–qui me comprend?–je pale des jouets brisés, je parle d’un sac noir, je parle d’