One day two years ago I was drunk and angrily fucked my boyfriend while the movie Divine Horsemen: The Living Gods of Haiti played on ubuweb with the volume turned up loud.
Ariana Reines' essay "The Drowning Sun," on her trip to Haiti, posted on HTML Giant. Okay, it's official: I'm madly possessed by Ariana Reines fever (oh my fucking god! it's like my old alt-weekly days have come to haunt me! look at the dripping purpliness of my cliched punny prose! I am keeping it here just to remind me of how purply I can be).
God everything I write even if it's to steer it elsewhere becomes about me! and that is why I am a narcissist.
No but seriously. I can't wait to read this whole fucking book about Haiti, for it will be a book, I'm sure, I hope, very soon, the next Aliens & Anorexia, I think, yes.
(something more thoughtful here about Ariana Reines' empathy with Haiti, that trauma she is circling around, mirroring Duras in Hiroshima mon Amour and Sarah Kane writing through the Balkan wars in Blasted.)