Metal Coughdrops, by Tristan Tzara
Text within this block will maintain its original spacing when publishedher bare feet tell the neurasthenic: fake mustaches on that ostrich
made in u.s.a
the cold bird tells the monocle: mouth got no lips I'll kill myself
but the cubist tells the cubist: i have invented the chief-of-scratch & I am
his boss
the boss tells the boss: boss
Translation from the French by Jerome Rothenberg
To fall asleep lately, I've been listening to a BBC podcast called "In Our Time," in which the host--the placid, grandfatherly voiced Melvyn Bragg--engages various scholars and academics in discussions of popular history, science, the humanities, and other general curiosities. Subjects include the 30 Years War,
Picking up the pieces on a rainy Wednesday. I found myself listening to the experimental band The Books the other day, and watched a short documentary about their process. An animating preoccupation that drove the music was conversation—the idea that any juxtaposition is really a discourse. You put one
I have a tried-and-true method for pursuing things that require some willpower: Start early, and don't anticipate. When I started running consistently, it was late fall. The holidays were right around the corner, and with them the new year, which was an obvious time to adopt a new
I recently finished Tell Me Everything, by Elizabeth Strout, a novel that follows episodes in the middle aged lives of characters in Strout's fictional town of Crosby, Maine. I didn't really like the book that much, but I'd say what I found a bit