it's God you were looking for.

Things that are brilliant this week:

- Early Sunday Morning re-watch of Bresson's Lancelot Du Lac. I only meant to watch a scene but it's so mesmerizing that I ended up going along for the whole ride once more.

- Louis Ferdinand Celine:

Long live Peter the Great! Long life to Louis XIV! Up with Fouquet! Genghis Khan, ten thousand years! Up with Bonnot-and all his gang! And anybody else for that matter! But weep ye no tears for Landru! Because every bourgeois has got some Landru in him. It's sad, isn't it? And there's nothing to be done about it either! The revolution of '93, in my opinion, was the work of the lackies! Lackies who took everything word for word, lackies who vociferated, lackies of the pen, who, one fine night, took over the castle, all of them crazed by jealousy, raving, riddled by envy, they pillage, slaughter, and then settled in to count up the sugar, the sheets, the cutlery... they inventory everything... they were never able to stop. The guillotine was an accounting office... on they go counting up the sugar lumps till they die... mesmerized by the lumps! You wouldn't even have to hunt them down to kill them-you'll always find them in the same place-down there in the kitchen, counting. They're still there. What can they lose by it! You can't take this pack of windy, intellectual, impressionist, confusionist, leftist, unreconstructed, conservative hair-splitting arguers-all of them up to the gills in ulterior motives-seriously! One look is enough. They'll go where you tell them to go. After the smell of lucre! Onto the soap-box!

- John Hopkins at the ICA, "Insides". Sometimes I wish I could write like music, liquid and lost.

- Gigantic Magazine is out and I've finally caught up. Loving the design so much. I also love this little piece of art intensely.

- Dogzplot call for submissions for their next issue is on the theme of MAGIC. For some reason it made me think of Jonathan Safran Foer's short story for A Convergence of Birds and how I read it as a re-telling of Death in Venice but I never really knew what it was about. Maybe I should write something about magic.

- This poem by Evie Shockley at the Winter Issue of Le Petite Zine.

- Any poem by Bernadette Mayer.

- J.A. Tyler's review of Blake Butler's Scorch Atlas:

Scorch Atlas is a world of mold, a world of festering wounds, a world of hurt. Scorch Atlas is a carefully and meticulously distraught world of language, a trembled and shaken line of thought, a vibrant dead trance of phrasing, the measure of words put together all and in the right ways.