:: Fiction archive ( 2000-2005, click for articles pre-2006)

Dodge Rose by Jack Cox – An excerpt published 06/01/2016

Dodge Rose

It dawned on me in a perfectly good manner of speaking that Dodge was dead, that Eliza was not Dodge, I was not Dodge, that what I had not chosen had already changed. I was looking into the hard wet patch of my own reflection. No. Because.

By Jack Cox.

» Read more...

Tolly published 11/12/2015

fall

Mymum she couldn’t COPe at ome. I was sent away. No was Took. By SS they came an snatched me. She hadhid me away in the wardrobe but they dragged me out. Mumshe cried then very Bad, locking herself into the cupboard when we went, said as how it hurt so she couldn’t bear to watch. ‘TOlly,’ I heard her screamin, was in the hall. I screaming too. TheVan it was there to take me.

New fiction by Jay Merill, with art by Sam Vernon.

» Read more...

Tosh Foundation published 27/11/2015

profiled_inverse

Besides the MacArthur Genius Grant, Nobel Prize, and the Booker Prize, Tosh Foundation’s grants are very important to its subject matter. For instance, one can legally say “Tom Cruise, The Tosh Foundation honoree” and so forth adds a certain attention to an artist’s work. When one is associated with the Tosh Foundation, it means you are an individual of some worth.

New fiction by Tosh Berman, with art by Sam Vernon.

» Read more...

Beirut 12 / 11: Maurice Blanchot and Georges Bataille published 21/11/2015

andremasson

The disaster… is what escapes the very possibility of experience—it is the limit of writing. This must be repeated: the disaster de-scribes.

The silence following the Beirut atrocity voiced by words culled from Blanchot and Bataille.

» Read more...

Paris 13 / 11: J.G. Ballard and Sam Beckett published 15/11/2015

tumblr_kx8uyvctag1qa7qxco1_500

People aren’t ennobled by suffering . . . At the same time, it does strip away a lot of illusions. One pays a terrible price for that, but at least one glimpses some kind of truth. Conrad once said that it’s necessary to immerse yourself in the most destructive elements of the times, and then attempt to swim.

Culled lines from JG Ballard and Sam Beckett in response to Paris 13/11.

» Read more...

Paris 13 / 11: Clarice Lispector and Kathy Acker published

kathy_at_26th_st_studio_1990_nyc

The mystery of human destiny is that we are fated, but that we have the freedom to fulfill or not fulfill our fate: realization of our fated destiny depends on us. While inhuman beings like the cockroach realize the entire cycle without going astray because they make no choices.

Culled lines from Clarice Lispector and Kathy Acker in response to Paris 13/11.

» Read more...

Over, In and Under (after Über Dekkerinnerungen ) published 31/10/2015

Lacan on the drawing board - Emma Bolland 2013

Together hangs my psychic hand-breath (hysterical swinging neurotic), I am so often come to the lake, me at the breast beginning and beckoning, the only and the fearful year of the child in get-nothing is living. We are.

A (hysterical) translation of of Freud’s Über Dekkerinnerungen, without a dictionary, by Emma Bolland.

» Read more...

“Attention, Sinners!” 2014 published 08/10/2015

attention_thumb

New fiction by Chris Kenny.

» Read more...

Jolts published 15/09/2015

16890071989_25a27890c7_o-1

I’m living in Paris once more, once more a suitcase and a short-term teaching job at Paris VIII. It’s true I asked the same question and I probably broke the i-Ching and things will never make sense again, because the question was exactly “will things ever make sense again?” “I’ll never do this again for you. Never again,” he says. “I’m sorry,” I say. “You have some thinking to do, bro.” “What did I get, again?” “恆,” he says.

New fiction by Fernando Sdrigotti.

» Read more...

A formidable etiquette published 14/08/2015

DACS; (c) DACS; Supplied by The Public Catalogue Foundation

Terrine for Tatra, furring as he looked at it with a new bluish mould. And on Aophe’s plate, the split, sauce-dribbled lobster twitched. Noodle stared glassily at it, for once her big pugtongue hidden. A clink of a glass against teeth. That was Mar. She wasn’t always poised: her own dinner, a baked potato topped with plain cottage cheese, had just sprouted eyes.

The steak tartare, too, was more wrong than anyone cared to admit.

» Read more...