A novel that tells the truth... Isn’t that what people look for in literature?

The canon of food cinema feels rigid and inflexible, as if in dire need of a rewrite. Our greatest food films may be in hiding.

This is not another essay about Kathy Acker. It’s about the body and language, reps and repetition—about writing’s relationship to the refrain, what is recited, the reps of language and the rhythms of temporality, its tempos and time signatures, its rush.

“I once fucked Jesse Helms and it was the worst sex I’ve ever had.” Perry Farrell muttered that line into the microphone on stage midway through a show at the University of North Carolina’s Memorial Hall on Tuesday, November 13, 1990.