Berfrois

Beer and Cider

Beer and Cider

There is no beverage which I have liked "to live with" more than beer; but I have never had a cellar large enough to accommodate much of it, or an establishment numerous enough...

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“How does one not write a depressing book about depression?”

“How does one not write a depressing book about depression?”

Mary Cregan’s debut work of nonfiction, The Scar: A Personal History of Depression and Recovery, is likely shelved in the bookshop’s memoir section.

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Eli S. Evans: Dec. 31st, 2019 – 11:59:59PM

Eli S. Evans: Dec. 31st, 2019 – 11:59:59PM

In 2019 I sold my first screenplay experienced the joy of childbirth...

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120 Months by Ed Simon

120 Months by Ed Simon

Since it was always a matter of contingent decision, the arrival of January 1st, 2020 was foretold the moment that the Gregorian Calendar was adopted...

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New Worth Working

New Worth Working

It was 11.30am and the temperature was airport. There is nowhere colder or warmer inside the totalizing monochrome space. There is just airport climate.

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Jessica Sequeira: Exhausted and Luminous

Jessica Sequeira: Exhausted and Luminous

Winétt de Rokha taught me intensity, the slide from idea to idea that connects images as in dreams, with an overlap of meanings that shifts between...

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Alexandra Naughton: a place a feeling something he said to you

Alexandra Naughton: a place a feeling something he said to you

It is raining in Crissy Field and you are not allowed to leave the car. It is sunny in the Mission and you are not allowed to leave the car.

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Douglas Penick: Creating the Past

Douglas Penick: Creating the Past

People, of course, have always travelled. In earlier times, they did so mainly for conquest, for trade, for survival and occasionally to learn technical skills or philosophies from people of distant lands.

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Sold! Or Not

Sold! Or Not

A few years ago I started collaborating with a client on her first book. When we signed the papers, in addition to including the fee structure and the schedule, I added one important stipulation: There is no guarantee that this book will sell.

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A story of psychic descent and personal disintegration…

A story of psychic descent and personal disintegration…

I missed Guillaume Nicloux’s film The Kidnapping of Michel Houellebecq on its release in 2014. What a mistake...

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Jessica Sequeira: The Fate of the Meadowlark

Jessica Sequeira: The Fate of the Meadowlark

Since a few hours ago, when we wrote those short notes to each other, I’ve been to a meeting of the Failed Novelists Society. This was partly an attempt to advance a story...

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Sex Studies by Genia Blum

Sex Studies by Genia Blum

Bad girls sleep with bad boys. They get pregnant and, when everyone finds out, they have to leave school. Only married people are allowed to sleep together...

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Joe Linker: Bells

Joe Linker: Bells

Manual typewriters contained a bell that rang to signal the coming of the end of a line. The typist could adjust where along the line the bell might ring.

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Sylvia Warren: Includo

Sylvia Warren: Includo

I cannot let strangers into my house. What is inside is too difficult to explain, too grotesque, but you must understand I am still her mother, and I still love her.

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Amy Glynn: Head Trained

Amy Glynn: Head Trained

It’s April, only a few days past budbreak. The tiny new leaves on the gnarled vines are the translucent baby-green of a peridot and have something of the same vitreous luster.

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Scherezade Siobhan: Malpaís / Badlands

Scherezade Siobhan: Malpaís / Badlands

I don’t go to poems for skillful ease or what’s rote. I come seeking an empathic witness, what the Sufi calls ruhul seyrani—the moving soul, frequently illegible.

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‘What I did in life, I did with books’

‘What I did in life, I did with books’

I’ve always been aware of being an inconsistent personality. Of having a lot of contradictory voices knocking around my head. As a kid, I was ashamed of it.

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Portrait of a Londoner

Portrait of a Londoner

Nobody can be said to know London who does not know one true cockney - who cannot turn down a side street, away from the shops and the theatres, and knock at a private door in a street of private houses.

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“my right arm hurts so much”

“my right arm hurts so much”

Last summer, I woke up one morning to find my right hand couldn’t grab the doorknob to turn it open. The next thing I knew was that no matter how many times I shook it, it remained numb.

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Wright From the Bottle

Wright From the Bottle

The decades of near-silence that came in the wake of Charles Wright’s trilogy of short novels seem almost as aberrant and disquieting as the novels themselves.

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Pia Ghosh-Roy: The Wingspan of a Moth

Pia Ghosh-Roy: The Wingspan of a Moth

The moth is blackish-brown, as nondescript as a Tuesday. But it is not a Tuesday, it is a Friday. I see the moth on the windowpane as I’m about to leave for work...

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