Chapter 23
I kept my walking pace at brisk. Everhet, dope sick, keeps saying he has to piss. Which evolved into needing to take a shit after several refusals.
“Can’t we just stop and chew a little gum?” Everhet says, “I’ll share.”
I ignored him until the next phase—when he became silent, walking with an expressionless face, almost tired.
This year brought with it a new album from How to Dress Well — I Am Toward You, the first album from Tom Krell’s musical project since 2018’s The Anteroom. (In the meantime, Krell’s earned his doctorate in philosophy.) With the new album out in the world for about a month, I chatted with Krell about the visual side of things, the artwork by Joshua James Clancy, and his thoughts on AI and generative technology.
Chapter 22
Doing something for the company is to do something for the family which is to do something for God since God chose the family. And to do anything for God you are therefore doing it for humanity. Clearly. It’s not complicated if you don’t think about it.
But I’m wondering how many of these rituals that are for the company are actually for something else.
I felt like I was playing on the clock.
It’s so cold when I get home from work, twelve degrees according to my car’s thermometer, and windy. The snow crunches underfoot as I walk to the front door. The kitchen is chilly too, but I’m distracted, wondering if this would be a good time to call the bank and try to recover $250 that disappeared from my checking account. I put on a sweatshirt over my work shirt and realize I’m wearing my winter hat.
George Pelecanos is a polymath who understands the Washington D.C. – area more than most authors. He was born in Washington D.C., he currently lives in Silver Springs, and he has fictionalized life in the beltway through scores of crime novels and story collections. Pelecanos’s creations are stark, also witnessed through his work as a TV writer and producer. His credits in this space include The Wire, about illegal drug trade and institutional corruption, The Deuce, about New York’s sex trade in the 1970s, and We Own This City, about police corruption.
Chapter 21
“What are we offering?” Everhet asks.
Cryptic as usual, I ask for clarification. And he responds with the same question.
“What are we offering?”
So I go with the quick pitch.
Somehow it’s been 15 years since the publication of David Small’s graphic memoir Stitches. To call it a debut would be inaccurate; at that point, Small had already amassed a storied career as an illustrator of books for younger readers, including multiple collaborations with his wife, the writer Sarah Stewart. Stitches, the harrowing story of Small’s experience with cancer treatment and unexpected surgery during his teenage years, was a haunting work, one that immersed the reader in its creator’s body and mind during a turbulent period.
Today, we’re pleased to present an excerpt from Samir Dahmani’s graphic novel Seoul Before Sunrise, out soon from Humanoids. The graphic novel follows a young woman, Seong-ji, who finds herself adrift after a close friendship begins to implode. From the publisher’s description: “It’s during her overnight shifts that she encounters an enigmatic young woman who spends her nights entering the empty homes of other people to paint and photograph these places. Now, the normally rational Seong-ji finds herself swept up in a dreamlike otherworld, made up of freedom and creativity.”
Read on for a glimpse inside Seoul Before Sunrise: