a festive mash-up, featuring William Gaddis IN HIS INIMITABLE PREPOSTEROUS STYLE, a book I doubt I’ll be reading much more of, Nick Land “making it with death,” like, inverted, whom I will, despite myself, be reading more of, to find out where it all tend

Birds ran on the empty lawns of the parsonage pecking at fallen irregular shapes of unripe crab apples. Swallows cut silent erratic courses above the carriage barn. – William Gaddis, The Recognitions , (first publd. 1955) Atlantic Books, London, 2003, p. 48 consciousness, it seemed, was a succession of separate particles, being
Simon Taylor