Civilization is a nightmare-illusion, a three-dimensional spreadsheet perpetuated by machines that hypnotize meat. (From the introduction to Death Confetti: Pickers, Punks, and Transit Ghosts in Portland,[…]

Civilization is a nightmare-illusion, a three-dimensional spreadsheet perpetuated by machines that hypnotize meat. (From the introduction to Death Confetti: Pickers, Punks, and Transit Ghosts in Portland,[…]
Even a backpack can be an explosive device, and whenever I see one abandoned on a highway median or a bus shelter, I think of the teams of plastic-wrapped security drones who will inevitably come […]
In another life she would have been Joan of Arc, but on this bus she was more like Nurse Ratchett, the big blonde woman with arms like a titan who kept growling at her […]
He was a kid—he looked barely more than fifteen, and he had the rangy strut of a pro garbage-picker, a Brando without a brain. He started talking to me, and couldn’t stop. It was dim, […]
Death Confetti was released by Feral House in June 2016. It took a year to generate and edit the content into its final form. Feral House is a press known for its embrace of shocking and […]
“One of these days, people will utter Jennifer Robin’s name in the same breath as Walt Curtis or Katherine Dunn. Her new book, Death Confetti, lingers at the crossroads where memoir, creative nonfiction, bizarro reality, […]
To me, everything is evidence; everything is debris. There is a lot of talk about how we are entering the phase of human civilization where all that is left of our species are streams of […]