watching and watching all the screens spilling across the grid in the red glass skyscraper in the center. I lingered around all the screeching pataphysicians of the 21st century media of the absurd. I stumbled across a street journalist. He wore a poorly-cut suit, maybe intentionally. He documented incantations of interspatial phantoms back on our […]
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Addy watched her storm off the scene, losing the count of his cash in hand. The insoluble fragrance of a rose torn from the stem crumpled like paper between his fingers.
“No,” he said, and so she said, “Dick,” and stormed off like the supporting character in a pastiche mall sitcom.
“That place is like an elevator, why set down there?” everyone asked me after I signed my lease on my terminal kiosk. “A totalizing non-place, complete void,” they argued, “another space not worth caring about.” Where, exactly, is worth caring about anymore? Where I grew up, where I once lived life, where I rode my
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“Like, what the fuck do you want me to leave you alone or what we have to work together you’re like my fucking boss so is it me because I don’t think I did anything and I guess we can’t talk about it at lunch?”