George Salis: How did you first discover the work of David Foster Wallace and which of his works did you first read? Please paint a picture of the beginning of this love affair.
Continue reading “Infinite Wallace: An Interview with the Co-Founder of The Great Concavity”
L’appel du Vide
crime scene: your hand is parallel
to mine, 90° bridge that ends
by falling in until you become
god. we can stumble
into recadency, even though your shadow
I woke somewhere in the soft drone of a library’s ventilation. It wasn’t the same library I had rested in, putting my head on the desk. The room was shaped as a hexagon. Above, pale lights and almost-identical books in identical wall shelves, and air pushed from some subterranean generator….
Continue reading “Biblioteca of Babel”
Right beside the moon of planet Aqueous Uteterux, a gray octopus-shaped ship hovers. The owner of this stadium-wide craft, Sal Malbehavior, Supreme Emperor of Crime, runs his empire of extortion, murder, and drug trafficking from that celestial location. Beneath the ship, on the planet below, the various governments, armies, and police departments comply with Sal’s will. Through a combination of logistics and an advanced arsenal of weaponry from other universes, Sal maintains his status as a powerful tyrant.
Continue reading “Another Laser Razemore Adventure”
Snuffle Sardanapalus
As a goodwill jester,
invite the invaders
to your slumber party.
George Salis: Your novel, A Greater Monster, seems to focus more on language and imagery than plot. Was this a conscious choice?
Continue reading “Breaking Open the Head: An Interview with David David Katzman”
The Symphony of the Whiskered
Send the children off to bed.
It is time for us to determine if
our kin is the same sex as the crickets.
Shall we start by examining the variation
in the dead or shape our expectations and
our precedents from the testimony of crows.
By some strange process, the continent of North America has become attached to the celestial sphere at the place where land and heavens meet. It is slowly getting detached from the crust of the Earth, like an old scab being peeled neatly from a healed wound, without any tearing at the edges.
Continue reading “Amerika in the Sky (In Memoriam)”
With a wrist, and a twist, Jones set his pint down upon the table. Clearly, twas time to chime.
“We pick up Stone…” he began.
“…henge…” Montrellis intoned.
Continue reading “Six Flix”
