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A Review of |
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A document to document some sleep thought; some brain hid in no light. In these stories words are confabulations and any image can become another. All the serious shit shoveled via mail. Do you want to sleep awake? Insomniac, fret no more! Forget Ambien and Lunesta: Poste Restante ("went back to sleep (within my sleep)"). When available in pill form? Perhaps anyway the page goes down much easier. Though the characters here maintain guidebooks, ways to siphon language from one to one. They doze off and wake up seconds later somewhere else. There's something Greek in the science of it, yet the backburner bakes bright and strums the tongue. Conversation with a trout in a hot tub; humans acting as live bait; potential sons to be cloned from pods found in the snow; rivers floating full of mail. A mantra: "Every time I slept in a different hotel bed, especially in foreign countries, I found hard not to acquire the accumulated history of all those who had slept there before me." Derek White's snorkeled so deep into Burroughs's blood that he found Pynchon. So many worlds nested in worlds nested in deep mud. A guidebook to the slumber underworld? New Braille for the narcoleptic? Check, check. Check as well for chinks in the postal system; the letters left undelivered or in transference, the words still waiting basted in a brain of baby unborn: Derek White, I'm in your house. It is nice here. I find new rooms every evening. If only we could keep the roof from coming down. . . .
You can order Poste Restante from Calamari Press. |
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