There’s been a lot going on. Threading the film to run in reverse: I’m in a chair at home in Brooklyn, with an increasingly vegetal right foot: swollen, and mottled in patches with bruising like the peel of a banana. The puffiness of my toes gives them a budlike quality, as though they might split [...]
Stanislaw Lem writes somewhere about the almost obscene element of death, that this dense skein of memories, understandings, this world of a life, is going to rot into toxic gunk in the skull in a matter of days, as though all the reels of all the movies ever shot were to suddenly deliquesce into a [...]
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