Losing L.A.
It’s been occurring to me to re-read Ricardo Piglia’s The Absent City. I haven’t read it in years, but recent current events keep reminding me of it—and though I know, also it’s that feeling that I must re-read it to get the full information. So I am. I pulled it off the bookshelf today, where it’s landed after many, many moves, where I haven’t opened it at any one of those locations,
Meeting the Real
In our current screen culture paradigm, we primarily deal in economies of representation. We exist in ideas and concepts and simulacra, often not encountering the Real much at all. Quite literally, we engage with plastics and in many ways, a plastic experience. All of this serves to dull our senses and sensibilities and render them as 2D as the screen we are watching--which separates us from the experience of being alive. As
Finding My Ground
I notice I am writing a book (again), but this time, before it presents itself as a whole thing, appearing to arise out of nothing into a solid object, it will find shape here. Wafting in on the morning air, tapping itself out in a Morse code of neural impulses inside the afternoon haze, beneath the cawing of the crows and witnessed by the patient eye of the lizard outside my
