• colonialism
• spiritism
• ritual
• Africa
• ceremony
• performance
• body
• feminism

I said “Would you like a rope? You know that haul you have is not secured properly.”
“No,” he said, “but I see you have string!”
“If this comes into motion—” I said, “you should use a rope.”
“Any poison ivy on that? ” he asked me, and I told him my rope had been in the barn peacefully for years.
He took a length of it to the bedside table. He had no concept for what wood could endure.
“Table must have broken when I lashed it onto the truck,” he said.
And, when he was moving the sewing machine, he let the cast iron wheels—bang, bang on the stair.
I had settled down to pack up the flamingo cookie jar, the cutlery, and the cookware, but stopped briefly, for how many times do you catch sudden sight of something heartfelt?
I saw our milk cows in their slow...

• identity
• human–animal communication
• performance art
• Video art

• urbanism
• short stories
• Venice
• obsession
• avant-garde
• contemporary literature

– In what way are you a communist – since we need to define this: someone who is convinced that a totally different form of organization of communal life would be good for the human race, –

– Isn’t that equally true of monarchists and leaders of sects?

– ...with a focus on justice.

– but the people should behave differently, right?

– They should be totally different.

– Are you not simply a misanthropist?

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– No, because there are people that I like, very much even. And I understand all the less why most people feel compelled to be so nasty.

– Most people don’t seem to be quite as bothered by this as you are.

– Oh really? In my perception, most people are pretty bothered by anything that is different than themselves. That is why we need rules that define how to behave toward people we can’t stand.

– You have just been suffering in a...

• social movements
• motherhood
• birth
• critique of neoliberalism
• communism
• community
• family

• phenomenology
• Modernism
• art
• aesthetics
• art theory

“So many egoists call themselves artists,” Rimbaud wrote to Paul Demeny on May 15, 1871. Even though that is not always obvious, ‘I’, the first person, is the most unknown person, a mystery that is constantly moving towards the other two, the second and third persons, a series of unfoldings and smatterings that eventually gelled as ‘Je est un autre’. That is why ‘apocryphal’ is a literarily irrelevant concept and ‘pseudo’ a symptom, the very proof that life, writing, is made up of echoes, which means that intrusions and thefts (Borges also discusses them) will always be the daily bread of those who write.

Words from others, words taken out of place and mutilated: here are the alms of time, that squanderer’s sole kindness. And so many others, mostly others who wrote, and many other pages, all of them apocryphal, all of them echoes, reflections. All this flows together into—two centuries...