an old writer and his words

  • THE NEW GODS

    From their two-bedroom apartmenton the outer edge of Cupertino,the Gods evicted from Olympusare creating their pulsating metahell.They know how easily we, lemmingsenchanted by the sparkling void,offer ourselves up in sacrifice, alwayswanting still another gigabyte,entranced by the idea of the Deusex machina, blind to our own truth.They promise us eternity, a heavenof a parallel binary universe,redemption…

    Lou Faber

  • IN MOURNING

    I will soon enough bein mourning for literatureand philosophy for the momentis approaching when theywill be lost, or I supposesimply subsumed, swallowedup in a cloud appearingmomentarily then gone. The day is rapidly approachingand if you doubt itfor even a moment, goto your local library, ifit has not closed, and notethe diminishing numberof books, replacedby computers,…

    Lou Faber

  • NEVER EVER

    For those who cannot see the picture above, please imagine this text is the most hated font of all time*: There are certain sinsa poet learns never to commit,whether by teaching orsimply bad experience. Poetic sins come in manyshapes and sizes, grammatical,typographical, metaphorical,or just about any -al you choose. Bad rhyme is a minefield, unableto…

    Lou Faber

  • FUTURE HISTORY

    The history of modern literature, at least to those who purport to create it, is inextricably tied up with technology. The quill and inkwell ceded only reluctantly to the fountain pen and ballpoint. Foolscap was affixed to corkboard by countless pushpins, but one wasn’t a teal writer until one stuck in the sole of your…

    Lou Faber