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Isaac lurked near the kitchen door. His face expressed a hellish despair.


And who was I? In the beginning, a eunuch among eunuchs—an academic. Distinguished Professor of Something-or-other (quite often I honestly couldn’t recall) with a complexion like Dresden after the war and a genius for meaningless language: The serial modes of organized mass aggregates capture the pure experience of modulated discourse and flow it through tropes of self-imposed identity structures, the result being the unhinging of secure disciplinary backing and a releasing of the unbounded potential of linguistic form as disruptive and excessive pleasure.

The Beaming Ghetto

Prestonville, a place forgotten by God and people…


The Brooklyn Rail

APR 2005

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