No Poem Is the Only Poem. No Story Is the Only Story. No Kings.
They began hanging out. The mode of engagement with Rotho was always hanging out, always at his house. And why would he ever leave? The place was giant, fit for the Von Trapps, and full of hard-bodied men coming in and out in the midst of impassioned speech: “depends on which Van Halen” or “oeuvre.”
We talked about work without pay and pay without work. I mentioned an article that said that E. M. Forster had been granted a an honorary fellow position at King’s College, Cambridge, for twenty years without publishing another novel, but you pointed out that that still depended on a certain amount of pedigree and prestige prior to that point and I said it was true.
like light thrusted into purple mouths, acrid petals of piety for bread broken like gold shavings...
“I participated in the book burnings at the university last night!” my brother Peter exclaimed.
“Where books are burned, people will eventually be burned,” I retorted.
We were students at Berlin University. He had joined the Nazi German Student Federation as many students had. The Depression dimmed prospects for employment. Hitler seemed intent on reducing unemployment and dealing with the Depression.
"Austral" is an enigma factory.
I want to be as gothic as the ocean that backdrops rows of fancy stores where
women sell half-imagined lives.