‘It was because it was night-time and raining that I decided to drive up to Lana Turner's old house in Beverly Hills.’
It was because it was night-time and raining that I decided to drive up to Lana Turner’s old house in Beverly Hills. The crime had taken place forty-six years earlier, on a stormy Good Friday. This was Ash Wednesday, and if I went now, who knew, maybe I would get some sense of the atmosphere that …
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‘The anglophone world, we have to infer, has run out of words for its own feelings.’
Daisy Hildyard on the wisdom of scarecrows.
‘What is the read receipt for?’
Lillian Fishman on texting, power and the ethics of leaving a friend on read.
‘Like pretty much everyone who uses the internet, I have seen many terrible things that I did not search for and that I cannot unsee.’
Rosanna McLaughlin on what the internet thinks she wants.
‘I have a pathological addiction to the internet, which I indulge with the excuse of making art. It rarely translates to anything good and mostly leaves me overstimulated and afraid.’
Paul Dalla Rosa on excess and the internet.
‘rumors of bees on speedwell, / no oxidative stress just / effortless pollination’
Two poems by Sylvia Legris.
‘I lied about my age and I lied about my location and I lied about being horny.’
Fiction by Avigayl Sharp.
‘On Good Friday, the priest in the livestream video stood inside the darkened sanctuary.’
Fiction by Nicolette Polek.
‘I have no idea why I felt so drawn to the mermaid, but the pull was irresistible.’
Fiction by Hiromi Kawakami, translated by Allison Markin Powell.
‘We have this space and we have permission to summon each other into it. Sibspace.’
Fiction by Ben Pester.
‘Without obsession, I don’t think I’d get anywhere.’
Two authors discuss atmosphere, obsession and going ‘too far’.
‘In the last three years I have driven along some of the smaller, less-travelled roads of the Mississippi Delta.’
