remember, in the end, nobody wins unless everybody wins

a poem and thoughts on a book

First things first. Here is something new that I wrote called Wood Paneled Room. I am currently in the process of working on a physical release with an old friend and collaborator. It will be called Entrance to a Descent and it will be out in the beginning of 2025 or whenever, mainly because we must keep things DIY.

Now we can talk about all of the other stuff. I have not read a textbook in a while — maybe ever, now that I really think about it. The textbooks they made you read in school were all made-up anyway. Who owns history? Right?

Maybe this is why House Of Leaves has me taken, in an early sunset stupor sort of way. For better or for worse. I may never have picked this up, I likely would have avoided this type of book at all costs. Sometimes I find that I am fighting my own war against fun. But it caught me at just the right moment.

There once was on old man obsessed with a documentary film about a house that expanded and contracted. One that was a funhouse of sorts, an evil one, with an agenda. He wrote a textbook length analysis of it filled with amphetamine enhanced footnotes. With detailed, scientific explanations, and deep character studies of the family who inhabited this hell-hole unknowingly. All complete with wild text arrangements and basically every other trick you could conjure to discourage someone from reading his work. Then he died.

Then a sunset strip junkie finds this text book, and wrote about how his findings led him deeper into a hole, all while recounting all of his snorting and fucking and attempts at getting the aforementioned text published.

It’s two separate stories, one in the text, one in the footnotes. Clever, annoying to read. All of it.

If you want a completely different novel reading experience, I recommend checking out House of Leaves by Mark Danielewski Its content is unsettling and it’s physically demanding like no novel I have ever read. You may have to flip the book upside down, sideways. Stand on your head. Hop on one foot. Do a triple whipple dip.

We could all use an injection of whimsy every now and then. Suspend your disbelief and ride the lightning, fuckers. But you could easily skip this one entirely, if you are prone to motion, or sea-sickness — maybe pick up the new Sally Rooney.

Recently I have..

Been listening to the most recent Everything Is Stories. The best Podcast keeps it going at an elite level. I subscribed to Criterion Channel and watched a few classics that I hadn’t been able to access in a minute — Suspiria (1977) and the original Ring (1998)—-possibly the best horror film ever made. I also bought some Dire Straits records on vinyl. As well as this Emahoy Tsegué-Maryam Guèbrou record. Everything is going just fine.