[polarboiyeahz]

Here’s another book I own that I like: Sarah Kane’s complete plays—as I did with Naked Lunch, I’m ashamed to say I don’t have much to say about the way I acquired the book: I got it online, for cheap, actually, but that isn’t at all the implication that the method in which I purchased it has cheapened the experiences—the books I wish to read just seem to be out of reach, in a physical-and-sometimes-geographical manner, but mainly because people here read Christian apologetics and ghostwritten politician autobiographies, so it takes a while to find anything substantial, if substantial means anything I’m into—that aside, I’ve only read the first play, Blasted, but with that first play alone, it was enough to say I saw talent carving itself a new path to walk along, an immediate form emerging from raw material, and I’m here for the rest of it—P.S. it made me paranoid, but that might just be because I’m neurotic, though not in the stereotypical Woody-Allen-film kind of way: in a real way, in which it’s accentuated by my autism; Sarah Kane scratches a certain itch left untouched by most of the books I’ve read, and that’s because her experience is real, as is mine, and she can transmute that experience seamlessly.

[polarboiyeahz]

I walked into my favorite used-slop market in town the other day, and while being bombarded by Nicholas Sparks, Danielle Steele, Nora Roberts (as well as Roberts as JD Robb), Tom Clancy, and vintage paperbacks mostly known as miscellaneous war-indoctrination material for children in the sixties, I found Naked Lunch—I don’t think many people know this about me, at least in the context of people who *know* me, but I grew up in a puritan household (which to me has both benefits and drawbacks), and so, that stacked on top of my experiences (the unsavory kind you don’t realize until you’re old enough to be upset), I’ve always had this lifelong attachment, this sense of attraction to the most troubling things, alongside my obsessive waves of needing to know everything, resulting in fixations that last for days on end, and so, returning to books a few years ago, it was evident I was about to look for transgressive, disturbing material: I wanted to indulge, and Naked Lunch was one of those books I heard of, read about, did research on, and have always wanted—years later, it’s here, and 50 cents.

[robbierobertson]

this sign i just saw in a bookstore ??

[silly-signs]

Official silly sign

[polarboiyeahz]

‘When the Dropper’s Set’ by Omar Zefier (published by ExPat Press) 2026

[polarboiyeahz]

A passage from page thirty-four of Laszlo Krasznahorkai’s ‘Chasing Homer,’ originally released in 2019, translated by John Batki; funnily enough, apart from the writing, if you’re not acquainted with this book, then it must be known that there are two other reasons for owning it: it’s illustrated, and there’s music (accessed via QR codes at the beginning of every chapter).

Now, I didn’t post any of the art done by Max Neumann because the art wasn’t my focus for posting this, and the same could be said for not posting Szilveszter Miklós music production: they’re both great, but I rather emphasize the prose itself, for now—maybe I’ll post some of the art pieces I’ve seen as I read, they’re wonderful in a colorless, fragmented manner.

Anyhow, I like this book—I’ve spent a while with it, because I’m holding off on a fast completion (pause); a review is coming soon.

[polarboiyeahz]

New Years celebrations are truly one of the most pointless celebrations to be in the public consciousness: if you make ‘resolutions’ once a year, they’re not resolutions, they’re aspirations turned phrases you’ll drop midway through the new year: waiting till January first to start weaving all your dreams is what prevents you from setting down the tile to the floor you’ll begin with; every day’s a day and years are full of them, each 24 hours in length with 12 being what we use most—if you wait until 365 of those pass, your failure was prioritized; New Years is more than likely a time to herald the new year, reflect on what it was (if you’re like that [I typically reflect on things as they come, so I’ve nothing left by the time New Year’s Eve comes around]), and that’s really it, there’s no reason for fireworks and ball drops to be involved with it, it is still another day, people are still people, you are still where you said you won’t be anymore—take that as you will

[polarboiyeahz]

Paying Off America’s Karmic Debt by Omar Zefier

22.75in x 18.8in - Pencil, pen, pastel on cardboard

November 24-25, 2025

[polarboiyeahz]

This is an old photo of R. Crumb with his late wife Aline Kominsky-Crumb

[polarboiyeahz]

Paying Off America’s Karmic Debt by Omar Zefier

22.75in x 18.8in - Pencil, pen, pastel on cardboard

November 24-25, 2025

[polarboiyeahz]

Page 246 of 648, from Roberto Bolaño’s the Savage Detectives; I haven’t read a book of this size since Samuel R. Delany’s Dhalgren (not to mention that both feature poets), and both are, essentially, wandering novels for me, free of distinctive plot, full of digressions and life in itself—love it so far, though I wish I’d more time to read, so I’m making the most of it today; I initially read 100 pages over the course of 2 days when I began reading, but thanks to life, I’ve slowed down a bit😓 anyhow, everyone have a great day today.

This is my first Roberto Bolaño novel; there’s a passage about translating poetry, and much like my experience with Dhalgren, I read it the moment I begin translating poetry from the original Spanish—now, I won’t divulge the details any further, I’ll keep it as a kind of nocturnal project I’m trying my hand at, but I’m hoping to get it published, though I’m making sure to prioritize sharpening my skills concerning Spanish grammar just to ensure that I’m at the top of my game (I’m a native speaker, but learning never hurt anyone.)

[polarboiyeahz]

My first article in months

I've Been Traditionally Published

Baby's first release

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I’m officially published

[isolationcavedin]

i finished it

[polarboiyeahz]

Edmund Kemper quote posted for educational purposes (NSFW); it’s a few lines that’ve stayed with me from the first time that I’d read it—no, I’m not condoning his actions nor his words, it’s simply astonishing that someone could think this way while having lived amongst us: take that as you will

[polarboiyeahz]

Second paragraph of page 182 from Albert Camus’ la Peste (translated by Stuart Gilbert); the context is the act of getting used to one’s current state of despair to the point of no longer caring about one’s separation from their loved ones—additional context, the town of Oran is separated from the remainder of Europe due to the bubonic plague striking once more; so far, in my opinion, this book is a win for the imagination, there’re so many thoughtful passages—there are times where I feel the writing borders on the line of cringe (not that Camus is cringe), but I take it that it’s a fault of the translator’s doing, as there are moments where the prose itself doesn’t flow as well as it should, and many of the French colloquialisms present in the text don’t translate so well into English—all in all, read things in their original language if you’re going to critique any form of prose to a tee, even then, many great writers are still translated wonderfully:) like Arno Schmidt, Laszlo Krasznahorkai, WG Sebald, etcetera, just not perfectly

[polarboiyeahz]

It’s official, my first *literary* publication, albeit a single poem, makes me feel confused, proud, embarrassed, and nothing concurrently, but that isn’t to say there’s no gratitude present; it releases this October in the form of a biannual volume (one of twice a year), the very first magazine-journal release from this publisher which I love dearly, having published some seminal pieces over the past decade; over 2000 submissions were sent in, and I was one of the 60 chosen—thank you; I’ll be reading through it and posting my favorite pieces, as well as my own, when my contributor’s copies arrive

[polarboiyeahz]

I’ve been reading my copy of Albert Camus’ la Peste for the first time—I avoided The Stranger because I was put off by how many people champion it as their favorite book, while having the knowledge they scarcely read so any judgement of that type isn’t exactly to be trusted—anyhow, TikTok trend-esque annoyance aside, from what I’ve skimmed of the Stranger, in comparison to what I’ve been reading in the Plague, the Plague is a lot denser, the language is rigid (in the best way possible), it doesn’t shy away from the grotesque, usually allowing the imagination-ailing moments to overstay their welcome, not simply allowing them to shock, but to become repetitive against the will of the reader; Im around 70 pages deep, so I’ll let everyone know how it is sometime when I finish

P.S. I picked this book up as my next read for the sole purpose of immersing myself in fragments of absurdist philosophy—I should’ve probably chosen the Stranger for that, or even the Myth of Sisyphus, but it’s like that sometimes, and I don’t own Camus’ Sisyphus—as there are things in the doctrines I don’t believe in, nor do I agree with, and I’d like to better understand the reasoning before making any rash decisions, like typing up my essay concerning Absurdism and Pessimism on such short notice without the proper understanding