From Cian Oba-Smith’s beautiful series, Concrete Horsemen.
An Isolation Odyssey by Lydia Cambron via Jason Kottke.
Rebecca Mock, Nothing To Do In This Heat (But Sleep).
Still from Rainer Werner Fassbinder, World on a Wire, 1973, via Kimberly Rose Drew‘s Something I Saw newsletter.
From An Anthology II by Yukai Du.
“Things to Do in the Belly of the Whale,” by Dan Albergotti (via Matthew Ogle’s incredible newsletter, Pome). Somehow exactly right for this particular moment. Things to Do in the Belly of the Whale Measure the walls. Count the ribs. Notch the long days.Look up for blue sky through the spout. Make small fireswith theContinue reading “FIVE HUNDRED AND SIX”
From Folding Beijing, by Hao Jingfang, translated by Ken Liu. The folding city was divided into three spaces. One side of the earth was First Space, population five million. Their allotted time lasted from six o’clock in the morning to six o’clock the next morning. Then the space went to sleep, and the earth flipped.Continue reading “FIVE HUNDRED AND FIVE”
From “My Failed Attempts to Hoard Anything at All” by David Sedaris in the New Yorker. I remembered him during the oil crisis of 1973, heading to the Shell station with empty cans and getting in line at 4 a.m. All our cars had full tanks, but he needed the next guy’s ration, as well.Continue reading “FIVE HUNDRED AND FOUR”
From Charles Yu’s Interior Chinatown, which I read this week and loved. “For my friend Fong,” he says, and begins singing John Denver. If you didn’t know it already, now you do: old dudes from rural Taiwan are comfortable with their karaoke and when they do karaoke for some reason they love no one likeContinue reading “FIVE HUNDRED AND THREE”
From Time Release by Ali Shapiro, full comic here.
From the Utopian Imagination exhibit, curated by Jaishri Abichandani, plus Lola Flash’s Syzygy I (more here).
From Ghost Stories, by Sarah Maxwell.
From Hanif Abdurraqib’s They Can’t Kill Us Until They Kill Us. The demand is simple: no one gets to speak the name of my city without first knowing it as I have. The interior of the land is always layered. Yes, sometimes with blood, but sometimes with bodies marching, with bodies moving, with bodies floodedContinue reading “FOUR HUNDRED AND NINETY NINE”
Lewis Miller, photos via Gothamist/Instagram.
By Francis Vallejo.