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by Don DeLillo
Ockert reveals how sometimes evil arrives not with a bang or a whimper, but with the calming buzz of the inevitable.
The collaborative medium between prose and photography, poetry and photography deserves a more established home in the spectrum of the literary world.
September is the start of many things: school, fall, football, the biggest publishing season, the return to work after the end of summer.
Fear and wonder pulled me toward both astronomy and writing. If the world does not create awe in us, we will neuter the beautiful and complex. The profound becomes prosaic.
Geoff Dyer, Don DeLillo, and Jonathan Lethem, for all their differences, have one thing in common. Each became bewitched by a movie that spoke so forcefully to him that he watched it again and again until it revealed all of its secrets.
His vision spreads outward, encompassing ever more of the nuances and frequencies of an urbanized West that has maxed out on chatter and distraction. It has to expand like this in order to express the burden of shepherding a lone self through a world of mass-consciousness, ruled by media and money, where terror is the only form of awe that has not been stripped and sold for parts.
Gibson has always been fascinated by fashion, not only as an expression of personal style, but as a place where technology and advertising work together, on a global scale, to create and feed human appetites in the name of corporate profits.
We are in a situation similar to the one Delillo lays out in White Noise: things are bad, danger is lurking, but we don’t know its full extent. Our exposure has been consummate, and fatal for the health and economic stability of many, but the final tally is not yet in.
We've become not just curators of music but curators of connections, immersed in an aural landscape and a transporting, internal soundtrack.