Liquid Ink

The official website of Gint Aras, Finalist 2016 CWA Book Award


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Wish me a happy birthday

Today is my birthday. I am 41. I know that you really want to express yourself glowingly. Luckily, I’m easy to please.

Just like my author page on Facebook. That’s the gift that will return wonderful karma and wit back to you a million times over:

Generosity is only one click away.

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Drooling mad, drooling wild

I think what you meant when you came into my office to tell me that you didn’t understand that one thing I said yesterday in class was that you have been hallucinating for the past 24 hours. This must be true. Yesterday, I did not teach a class in which you are registered, and I have not seen you for at least two weeks, perhaps more.

Perhaps you’re not hallucinating at all. Perhaps you have just gone mad. That’s fine. Embrace it. Madness is all around us, in the goverment and corporate culture, as we are hell-bent on our own self-destruction.

Just yesterday I saw a Facebook update from a perfectly well-educated person complaining that she is being asked to educate her children about unnecessary things. What an error we make when we begin to believe in our own necessity. We’re mad, I tell you, mad. The air before our eyes grows hair and all we can do is laugh.

It’s funny, of course. There is only one difference between air and hair: a single h. There seems to be no relationship between the two just as there seems to be no relationship between the banana and the nana who cares for our children in our absence and eats all of our bananas. They are the same. Just as our absence is identical to the abscess currently dripping puss someplace far from were we are currently present. But it hurts. God damn, does it hurt. Spray some shit on it.

Anyway, whatever I said yesterday, be it that one thing or those five things, was meaningless. You can’t expect me to remember so long ago. Lo song goa. Go nols oga. Rearrange this shit any way you wish. It all means the same thing. Nothing.

me in office