Dole queues, urban riots and political venom
Could this recession be as good for creativity as the last one was, asks Boyd Tonkin in The Independent: The clich é of the decade demands that web culture zooms in to rescue every wheezing ambulance-case in the arts and media. Certainly, the kind of maverick publishing and magazine production that made a plucky showing […]
Five Prose Poems
I wake up at 1:32 in the morning and make a frozen lasagna. I use a fork to pierce the plastic film. I heat the lasagna for six minutes. Once the food is done, I eat it while it is too hot and burn my mouth. I get a blister on the inside of my cheek. I feel the blister with my tongue. It is small and round and smooth. I pop the blister with my tongue and go back to bed. I cannot fall asleep. I think of everything that’s wrong in my life and I cannot sleep at all.
I get up and pick up the phone and call this girl. The phone rings twenty times and the girl picks up the phone and I say, Listen, I will date you OK?
By Ben Mirov.