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the only ones - “another girl, another planet”
7”, 1978
Played 9 time(s).
January 13, 2010, 2:15pm Comments
bagel and donut
walk into a bar, saying
round about these parts
(2010)
January 12, 2010, 2:54pm Comments
» non-fiction: the benevolent sun (part one)
my first published non-fiction work, on my trip to north korea in 2008.
part one. part two next week.
January 11, 2010, 7:13pm Comments
With the publication of damaging e-mails from a climate research center in Britain, the radical environmental movement appears to face a tipping point. The revelation of appalling actions by so-called climate change experts allows the American public to finally understand the concerns so many of us have articulated on this issue.
fffffffffffffffffffffffff. fffffffffffffffffffffffff. ffffff.
December 08, 2009, 8:41pm Comments
Part 5: The Fullness of the Lips
(part 1) (part 2) (part 3) (part 4)
A deep-focus shot of a warm orange room: first the edge of the ottoman, a blotchy velvet street find of the kind you’d leave in a sealed bag for three weeks to ensure the bedbugs were dead before using it. Then the narrow view of the hardwood floor, lacquered cheaply at some point in the seventies or eighties to maintain some false semblance of pre-war glamour. On either side, bookshelves, towering with volumes retrieved from estate sales, giveaways, and sidewalk vendors. Two worn 1908 editions of “Cymbeline.” A rubber-banded cache of National Geographics from 1953. Last week’s New Yorker. At the rear wall, the couch, of a similar (but not identical) velvet to the ottoman, regally-faded in comparison to the ottoman’s ratty covering. Finally, the young woman herself, legs folded under her on the cushions, wearing a long heather sweater that came down to her knees. Brown wavy hair and a penetrating stare. Finally, nestled in her lap, a single black-and-white cat, its eyes closed contentedly as her long fingers stroked its chin.
“Only you, Byron Xu,” said Elena Malcolm, the Queen of Cats, her voice echoing through my tinny computer speakers. “I figured if you were calling on Skype you were either in serious trouble or bored out of your mind.”
November 30, 2009, 1:08am Comments
Part 4: The Recesses of the Gums
(part 1) (part 2) (part 3)
“Are we there yet?”
“No. Stop complaining.”
“This is maybe the most awkward thing I’ve ever done.”
“Yeah, listen, that goes both ways. If someone pulls me over with you in the car I’m going to claim diplomatic immunity or something.”
“Wait, you’re not a citizen?”
“No, I—what do you care?”
“Making conversation.”
November 29, 2009, 1:37am Comments
Part 3 of 5
The Tip of the Tongue
000lvidal000: @xubaihan si sabes nada, bailas mucho
The café was empty, save for the girl at the counter with a boxy dark grey cap on her head and a red checked keffiyeh around her neck. She was reading Franny and Zooey, making notes in the tiny margins with a purple Uniball pen that she occasionally used to brush her short hair back behind her ears. I tried to imagine the commentary. Double-underlines for particularly poignant or relevant moments. Maybe a “yes,” also underlined, for a whole paragraph. The word “hmm” a few times. The rain beat down behind the glass that separated my table from Connecticut Avenue. It was Thanksgiving.
November 28, 2009, 2:03am Comments
Part 2 of 5: The Whites of the Teeth
(part 1)
“Ah, how do you say it, an adaptation.” He put one hand on the bar, the other on the girl’s shoulder. “An adaptation for our times. Pinocchio, you know, but, uh, he is a robot. And he just wants to be loved. But a girl robot. And he wants to be human. She. Wants to be human. And, uh, there is big boobs, so no one takes her seriously, they just want her for pleasure and because you can’t knock her up, but it will be sad! And then happy! But first she will adjust to the human life by killing the men who wronged her, maybe, in awesome fashions, just because I don’t want to make, uh, how do you say it, a film for the girls. Chick flick. Chick flick, yes, this I don’t want. More Pernod! Yes.”
November 26, 2009, 11:56pm Comments
Part 1 of 5: The Roof of the Mouth
On the Wednesday evening before Thanksgiving I was expecting a call from my then-girlfriend, so when the phone buzzed I left the knife in the peanut butter and dove across the floor of the kitchen to unhinge it from its charger. In the seconds between my belt-less jeans falling down and my own tumble onto the linoleum, I felt vaguely graceful, silhouetted in the dim light of the window above the sink as the rain poured down outside. Then I hit the floor, cursed, and clawed my way over to the wall socket where the charger lay nestled.
November 25, 2009, 11:00pm Comments
after some time, I am returning to this project anew. a formal re-opening will ensue.
October 20, 2009, 4:54pm Comments
