Winter Semester 2013: The Books I Read
Here’s a list of all the books I read from January to April 2013, organized by author/editor’s surname. César Aira: An Episode in the Life of a Landscape Painter Algernon Blackwood: Best Ghost Stories of Algernon Blackwood Robert Bloch: Dragons and Nightmares Gilles Boulenger: John Carpenter: The Prince of Darkness Ray Bradbury: Something Wicked This Way Comes Judith Butler: Gender...
This is magic realism in a Honda civic and the driver’s eyes are segmented like an insect’s. He quotes pop literature, perceives new colours, chain smokes cigarillos. He cruises rising crenellations of concrete hell, puffs grape smoke through the holes in his cheeks. We forget the goons in the back, ageless deadbeats who pass the test with designer clothes. They’re passing joints, they’re...
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My Top 10 Horror Films
John Carpenter’s Prince of Darkness (1987) Tod Browning’s Freaks (1932) William Castle’s The Tingler (1959) Andrzej Zulawski’s Possession (1981) Tobe Hooper’s The Texas Chainsaw Massacre (1974) James Whale’s Frankenstein (1931) George A. Romero’s Martin (1977) Roman Polanski’s Repulsion (1965) Robert Wise’s The Haunting (1963) ...
My 10 Favorite Horror Novels/Novellas
Melmoth the Wanderer by Charles Maturin (1820) Frankenstein by Mary Shelley (1818) House of Leaves by Mark Z. Danielewski (2000) The Great God Pan by Arthur Machen (1894) It by Stephen King (1986) The Metamorphosis by Franz Kafka (1915) The Turn of the Screw by Henry James (1898) The Obscene Bird of Night by José Donoso (1970) Dracula by Bram Stoker (1897) The Strange Case of Dr....
Fuck, I say, fuck, the chainsaw is out of oil and the chain seizes and the saw won’t work without the chain, and the thing, the threat, is on the other side of the room, or maybe outside the house, or maybe closer than I think, hovering over the desk that’s become my bunker and the thing is an archetype, the savagery of collective unconscious, all aberration and bad intent, and the fucking...
Open Call For Submissions
infraread: Submit poetry, prose, and everything in between to us. We will publish it on our blog. We look forward to hearing from you. -The Inframantics
A song reserved for headache sifting in thrift store dust. Political stage dress, the sneezing smell of drum machine overdose. The floundering slurs of semantic oppression, a half-priced candidate splatters the aisle to leave a lasting mark.
Jacques Derrida Seminar Entry #7: The Work of...
“At first I did not know—and I in fact still do not know—what title to give to these words. What is the gift of a title? I even had the fleeting suspicion that such a gift would be somewhat indecent: it would imply the violent selection of a perspective, an abusive interpretative framing or narcissistic reappropriation, a conspicuous signature there where it is Sarah Kofman …” —Jacques...
It’s the way he smokes, you know? On these nights, more often than not, we’ll go without speaking. We’ll remember those terrible halls, and we’ll remember superstition and the backsides of mirrors. We’ll look at parking lots cluttered with the dormant body of a population ascending and we’ll wonder just how the fuck it went so far. And he’ll keep chasing the light, a verse in slow burn, and...
Jacques Derrida Seminar Entry #6: Derrida - "I...
“What is ‘living with the animal’? What is ‘cohabiting’ with the animal? That is the question of mitgehen and mitexistieren. The animal can mitgehen with is in the house; a cat, for example, which is often said to be a narcissistic animal, can inhabit the same place as us, it can ‘go with us,’ ‘walk with us,’ it can be ‘with us’ in the house, live ‘with us,’ but ‘it doesn’t exist with us’ in the...
Jacques Derrida Seminar Entry #5: The Animal That...
“The animal, what a word! The animal is a word, it is an appellation that men have instituted, a name they have given themselves the right and the authority to give to the living other.” —Jacques Derrida, The Animal That Therefore I Am This excerpt (among many others) illustrates the extreme compassion and empathy of Derrida’s Animal project. Here, he calls the auditor or reader to confront...
Jacques Derrida Seminar Entry #4: Force of Law...
Derrida writes that “law is essentially deconstructible, whether because it is founded, that is to say constructed, upon interpretable and transformable textual strata (and that is the history of law, its possible and necessary transformation, sometimes its amelioration), or because its ultimate foundation is by definition unfounded.” Here, I think he most explicitly demonstrates why...
Jacques Derrida Seminar Entry #3: Force of Law
This is a preliminary reflection on Derrida’s “The Mystical Foundation of Authority.” Near the beginning of the piece, he poses a daunting question: “Does deconstruction ensure, permit, authorize the possibility of justice?” He acknowledges the possibility of both affirmation and opposition to the question, but I think the answer is “yes.” Admittedly, this...
Jacques Derrida Seminar Entry #2: Deconstruction &...
” … does the deconstructive effect depend on the force of a literary event? What is there of literature, and what of philosophy, here, in this fabulous staging of deconstruction? I shall not attack this enormous problem head on.” -Derrida, “Psyche: Inventions of the Other” Derrida’s reflection here is enormously complicated. It is something I would like to...
Jacques Derrida Seminar Entry #1: Differance
“It is because of differance that the movement of signification is possible only if each so-called present element, each element appearing on the scene of presence, is related to something other than itself, thereby keeping within itself the mark of the past element, and already letting itself be vitiated by the mark of its relation to the future element, this trace being related no less to...
ssemblagebooks: A digital release of Tomas Boudreau’s and Mike Thorn’s fugues will be available soon. Print release pending.
Yes, they say, yes… the world will end in thirty years. And so we watch. We watch the embryo raise hell, an effort to preserve computer coolants and THC. We watch the crossfire of satin and death wishes, toy money and electrodes. We watch and we are watched, losing sight for the ocular dream.
Gift Card Book Haul
I got a gift card for my birthday. These are the books I bought with it: The Trial by Franz Kafka Melmoth the Wanderer by Charles Maturin Beyond Good and Evil by Friedrich Nietzsche McTeague by Frank Norris Ariel by Sylvia Plath The Ghost Writer by Philip Roth
ssemblage: Reading from Mike Thorn’s Child of...
Tomas Boudreau reading my poem...
Unholy tonic stings the throat He is epistemic sickness and she is someplace watching, adrift, tearful, above. She is a sad Wednesday antidote for scars in the water and he is the persistence of undercurrent mud. This word is assault, malignance, penetration
Speaking Matter →
The Mirror's Trap
There’s a face that moves in the corner of your room: shows itself between midnight and four, chews holes in its cheeks and whispers your thoughts. You blink and you blink and it chews and it moves. This phrase is untouchable and the face is getting closer.
Miles to Go: Promises to Keep Volume 1 - Collected... →
My poem “Route 112” is published in the first poetry anthology from Miles to Go. You can pre-order it here.
Tomorrow Like Nowhere
The violence of a hyphen, the mirror’s dirge, twisted cipher, holographic crack. Vapor haunting humid coughs and hash smoke. Writer’s block, words displaced in utterance and script. The fetal shadow in purgatorial drift, a tug at psychotropic cord. His hand is anti-matter and this is a silver screen.
As long as we’re young, we manage to find excuses for the stoniest...– Louis-Ferdinand Céline, Journey to the End of the Night
The Films I Saw in 2012
This is a list of all the films I watched for the first time in 2012 (no re-watches included on the list). I saw 225 films altogether. They’re organized chronologically by directors’ surnames. To Rome with Love (2012, Woody Allen) 3 Women (1977, Robert Altman) Panic Attack! (2009, Fede Alvarez) The Master (2012, Paul Thomas Anderson) Moonrise Kingdom (2012, Wes Anderson) View from an...
The Books I Read in 2012
I read 114 books altogether in 2012. Here is the list, organized by the author or editor’s surname. The Edible Woman by Margaret Atwood Silk by Alessandro Baricco The Damnation Game by Clive Barker The Hellbound Heart by Clive Barker Cabal by Clive Barker My Mother, Madame Edwarda, The Dead Man by Georges Bataille Story of the Eye by Georges Bataille The Bataille Reader by Georges Bataille...
My Top 10 Films of 2012
Note: I count Killer Joe and Twixt as 2011 releases, which is why they don’t appear on this list. They’re #2 and #3 on my top 10 of 2011, respectively. I guarantee this list will look significantly different by December 2013, once I’ve had the opportunity to see all my most-anticipated 2012 releases (Malick’s To the Wonder, Bertolucci’s Me and You, etc.) For now,...
thelittlematchstick asked: i adore your poetry , keep on keeping on & please continue to write <3
the gray day, the red bulblight, I had never heard such a story from such a soul...– Jack Kerouac, The Subterraneans
A death cry, quieter than creation. A sooty and larynx-scarring sound. Like bad dinner conversation, like an unchecked motor, like wilting revelation. Hell yeah, that’s the sound, N.L. says—or Mark thinks he says—but he can’t be sure because smoke entombs the phrase. And that’s when the story won’t come. When all he wants is the recovery buzz. When the prose is like gum and he’s sick from too much...
blind prose locked in the spectre of something more. an us and them sermon; another phrase excised, another delusion dead.
An equinox visage; sanity slipping on a torsion spring; resurrect the mythos for post punk burnouts. love them for their suffering, try not to inhale, pretend you’re someplace else.
John Carpenter's Filmography, Ranked →
In preparation for John Carpenter’s upcoming appearance at this year’s expo, I have finished watching all of the available films in his filmography. I officially consider him one of the most important American auteurs alive.
In the operative opinion of this world, he who is already fully provided what...– Herman Melville, Pierre or the Ambiguities
You Are on Indian Land (1969, Mort Ransen)
A reflection on glasses that won’t fit, glasses resized and replaced and broken and sobs in the yard and glasses that won’t fit. A last word, a body in the market outside the market but it wasn’t until he screamed. Her retinas were mirrors and her shirt was a cloth and her mind was a piston but it wasn’t until he screamed.
Hope elevates, and joy Brightens his crest, as when a wand’ring fire,...– John Milton, Paradise Lost
She’s the last chance I have: my body is not a phrase— violence haunts the line, poisons poetics with discount liquor. She’s the last chance I have: the last chance to ward off slate-faced scribblers with muscle-bound notepads and knives in their teeth. She’s the last chance I have: the last chance to leave, to abandon the canon of entry and extortion.
She’s the noble persona in a dissolving room, deaf to laughter hissing on unattended stovetops. She finds the strength to clean herself— the shower where Dad made advances when Mom was away. He’s coughing bile on a train platform while the boys pass a mix and bark fake conquest. Soul-slicked ichor stains the carpet black— she shuts the door, closes her eyes, waits for the...
My stupidity gave its blessing to succouring nature, on her knees before God....– Georges Bataille, “Poetry”
My life only has a meaning insofar as I lack one: oh, but let me be mad! Make...– Georges Bataille, Madame Edwarda
For an instant she felt them, their identities, almost their substance, pass...– Margaret Atwood, The Edible Woman
Child of the Sun
He wanted freedom through mobility. He played Neil Young’s catalogue chronologically, then reverse-chronologically, imagining the lyrics as his own. He parked near areas marked WARNING HAZARD LANDSLIDE AND PERSONAL INJURY MAY OCCUR; smoked his tear ducts into raisins / Sometimes I’d get real loquacious after the ol psychoactive input, you know, and I’d put down verse after verse after verse just...
Fugue 21: Cabernet Sauvignon by Tomas Boudreau &...
Hideous… (the sentimental moment) …hideous if we are to take the position of the well-rounded reader. Jim spoke: let’s talk about the tension of the space. Ya know—the tension, babe. K nodded, an impression of attention. Right, right. Tension. Space. Subjects. Objects / show me Frida Kahlo suspended above a black chasm while being milked for the stillborn infant as Bob Dylan strokes...
Fugue 20 by Tomas Boudreau & Mike Thorn
The alcoholism started at 8 or 9 when K’s mother would pass out from the rye or boxed wine and K would steal the remains and her dad would come home at midnight or later to perpetrate unspeakable acts of sex-violence on her mother’s limp or flailing body—sometimes in front of K—and K would cry, or fight her dad, but her dad would laugh or belt her or laugh while belting her and then return to her...