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“I’m only interested in what is not mine. —Oswald de Andrade, The Cannibalist Manifesto, 1928”
― Craft: Stories I Wrote for the Devil
― Craft: Stories I Wrote for the Devil
“We liked the unapologetic angles and openness in modernist architecture and suffered from a nostalgia for its past imagination of the future.”
― Craft: Stories I Wrote for the Devil
― Craft: Stories I Wrote for the Devil
“Immersed in the present, it can be hard to know where to look. Sometimes you need the distance to fully appreciate the view, to see mountaintops surrounding the creek and know that if you had kept going farther to the left, you would have seen a canyon so vast, it is hard to believe you missed it.”
― Craft: Stories I Wrote for the Devil
― Craft: Stories I Wrote for the Devil
“… while ripping his shirt open, unbuckling his belt. Somehow, we made it to the darkness.
It was pure sensation, but also fully embodied. I was my body and his body. And a garden, honey, heat, sweetness, stars, and cosmic dust. Earth, as in dirt and as in the whole planet. I was spring, and the snakes in my veins were green. When they traveled up to my chest, they eased their purple-coiled sister, hardened around my heart, who slowly loosened and let go and turned green too. They swam in golden water and became gold; they swam in lava, then champagne, where they became air and effervesced, bubbling together, erupting into the air and leaving behind the surface of a lake at sunset, where I floated, bruised but free.”
― Craft: Stories I Wrote for the Devil
It was pure sensation, but also fully embodied. I was my body and his body. And a garden, honey, heat, sweetness, stars, and cosmic dust. Earth, as in dirt and as in the whole planet. I was spring, and the snakes in my veins were green. When they traveled up to my chest, they eased their purple-coiled sister, hardened around my heart, who slowly loosened and let go and turned green too. They swam in golden water and became gold; they swam in lava, then champagne, where they became air and effervesced, bubbling together, erupting into the air and leaving behind the surface of a lake at sunset, where I floated, bruised but free.”
― Craft: Stories I Wrote for the Devil
“I'd thought I was the eater, but America had been eating me the whole time, from within.”
― Craft: Stories I Wrote for the Devil
― Craft: Stories I Wrote for the Devil
“Speaking of the Devil, a totally random, but maybe helpful reference: I am reading this book (not a novel, an academic work on political theology). It compares the neoliberal worldview to a theology and talks about how the idea of freedom is used to assign the source of evil to individual choices (i.e. we are all given just enough choice to be deemed responsible for the bad stuff).”
― Craft: Stories I Wrote for the Devil
― Craft: Stories I Wrote for the Devil
