At once confined and liberated by his madness, the hero and narrator of I Hear Voices takes us on journeys through his private, transfigured city. The vehicle is his own deranged mind, fueled by the absurdities of modern life. Lovers of Beckett and Ionesco will recognize much in Paul Abelman's wo...
I called round to see Conrad.I have a composite image of the visit, doubtless assembled from several which I am unable to separate distinctly in memory. Conrad is standing up in his bedroom. Behind him is a small stone idol which I incorrectly identify as a Cycladic fertility goddess. Another sma...
What did we see in the theatre? I remember one set, in particular, a conservatory with a stuffed tiger. Oh yes, and Shakespeare and things—I begin to remember—‘Sweet, my coz!’ ‘Do with me as you will, Alistair.’‘Nay, he hath but a little beard.’‘A mystic, I assure you.’‘Had enough, that’s all. Do...
One night I was searching Chicago for someone—yeah, a girl called Lotte—something—and I was under the impression that Lotte was having an affair with a bootlegger called—think of it in a minute—anyhow, this liquor dealer had a number of hoods on his payroll, one of whom was a little Irishman call...