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XLIII. A Suburb of Empty Space.
"Tiredness in a Tuesday, worn since the last time it was tired. Tired of the next thing, the next thing, the next thing, the...."
Charlene Iris
Jul 51 min read
XLII. "Subject: A Correction, Issued Formally and With Great Sincerity".
"To Whom It May Concern,
I write to issue a formal retraction of my life's central thesis..."
Charlene Iris
Jun 303 min read
XLI. On the Inevitable Termination of the Sisyphean Sentence: A Mock Academic Essay.
Abstract: The punishment of Sisyphus, son of Aeolus, King of Ephyra, has long been regarded as the paradigmatic example of eternal, futile labor. This paper challenges that assumption. Through application of standard tribological models, erosion rate equations, and basic thermodynamic principles, we demonstrate that...
Charlene Iris
Jun 265 min read
XL. How to Steal a Tray (Without Doing Any Drugs).
Strong boundaries around cocaine. Zero boundaries around vintage homeware. A satire.
Charlene Iris
Jun 212 min read
XXXIX. Things I Would Kill For.
A list of wants, in no particular order, ending in violence. The best kind.
Charlene Iris
Jun 201 min read
XXXVIII. Eternity Ledger.
They say liquidity is freedom. I say balance is a myth marketed to those already on their knees. A piece about learning to stack the weight of eggs against eternity.
Charlene Iris
Apr 221 min read
XXXVII. "Marcescence".
From the Latin marcescere: to wither, to fade, but not yet to fall. The retention of dead plant matter on a tree through winter, when in most species it would have been shed. A piece about two trees, two kinds of grief, and the strange envy of those who let go.
Charlene Iris
Apr 211 min read
XXXVI. Gutter Cosmology.
A candy wrapper in a gutter. The end of the universe. Somehow, the same thing. A short piece about the things that outlast their own occasion.
Charlene Iris
Apr 121 min read
XXXV. The Customs of It.
There is the self who counts the spoons and rehearses the names of the dead. There is the self already at the door in her good coat. This piece lives in the room between them: the one that belongs to no one, the one that will be there after you leave.
Charlene Iris
Mar 202 min read
XXXIV. The Year of The Panini Press.
"The year of the panini press was a year. It was a press year. A cheese year. A year that pressed and pressed again."
Charlene Iris
Mar 123 min read
Musings
Wander through the dusk-lit rooms of SomEpiphany.
A living archive: the tender, the tangled, the mildly ridiculous. Fragments of life that insisted on being remembered.
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