I dreamt of a City to the West of here, Dixon tries to recall, scrying in his Coffee-Mug, the wind blowing Wood-smoke in his eyes, at some great Confluence of Rivers, or upon a Harbor in some inland S...
Hair and drug-use issues notwithstanding, I've never thought of you as any less than professional.
Es el cálido, romántico verano de 1945 y, con rendición o sin ella, persiste el culto de la muerte: acaba de perpetrarse lo que la Abuelita llamaba «un crimen pasional», la técnica preferida en nuestr...
Down the toilet, lookit me, What a silly thing ta do!
Down here everything was dark, but up there the gray conglomerate was being struck by the final light of day to an unanswerable brilliance.
Don't forget the real business of war is buying and selling. The murdering and violence are self-policing, and can be entrusted to non-professionals. The mass nature of wartime death is useful in many...
Doc remembered how Polaroids have no negatives and the life of the prints is limited. These, he noticed, were already beginning to shift color and fade.
Do you remember that piece of footage on the local news, just as the first tower comes down, woman runs in off the street into a store, just gets the door closed behind her, and here comes this terrib...
Dick Counterfly had absquatulated swiftly into the night, leaving his son with only a pocketful of specie and the tender admonition, Got to ‘scram,
Death is a debt to nature due, Which I have paid, and so must you.
Dealing with the Hippie is generally straightforward. His childlike nature will usually respond positively to drugs, sex, and/or rock and roll, although in which order these are to be deployed must de...
Darkness invades the dreams of the glassblower. Of all the unpleasantries his dreams grab in out of the night air, an extinguished light is the worst. Light in his dreams, was always hope: the basic m...
But there I was, surrendering to a most extraordinary call from the grave, the mass-grave-to-be of Europe, as if somewhere ahead lay an iron gateway, slightly ajar, leading to a low and sombre country...
But then last September the rockets came. Them fucking rockets. You couldn’t adjust to the bastards.
But don't they look like apes, now, fighting over a female? Even if the female is named Liberty.
But a few choosing to venture deeper into the painful corridors of their affliction, found after a while that they could now grind and polish ever more exotic surfaces, hyperboloidial and even strange...
As the landscape turned increasingly chaotic and murderous, the streams of refugees swelled. Another headlong, fearful escape of the kind that in collective dreams, in legends, would be misremembered...
An old Gordita reflex, dating back to shortly after the Second World War, when a black family had actually tried to move into town and the citizens, with helpful advice from the Ku Klux Klan, had burn...
A tragic sigh. Information. What’s wrong with dope and women? Is it any wonder the world’s gone insane, with information come to be the only real medium of exchange? I thought it was cigarettes. You d...
A few years back, one bleak winter afternoon, on the way home from the Pioneer Market on Columbus, some faceless yuppie shoved past March saying Excuse me, which in New York translates to Get the fuck...
