An Empirical Analysis of ‘American Exceptionalism’

I would like to briefly cover the notion of ‘American Exceptionalism’. This topic has become progressively more and more contentious and now hovers like a spectre of death over public discourse within America like the malevolent khefts of Egyptian folklore. Public opinion has clearly, unquestionably turned. In place of the heroic nationalism of old the… Continue reading An Empirical Analysis of ‘American Exceptionalism’

The Iron Garden: Part.5

Conflux Clair Andretti awoke at the crack of dawn, dressed hurriedly and took the bus to campaign headquarters. The bus rumbled along with an uneven clomping, moving more like some great drunken beast than a properly operational transportation was filled with immigrants as usual, all dark eyes and brown eyes and self congression. They eyed… Continue reading The Iron Garden: Part.5

The Iron Garden Part.4

AIKEN LAYNE The Cafe Noir's small, mahogany confines smelled of tobacco smoke and leather, cigarette ash and java beans, a small gaggle of hipsters lounging about the counter at the front of the store, chatting with the staff whilst the old men, with their fat hands and wrinkled foreheads, puffed their fragrant belicoso's and cursed… Continue reading The Iron Garden Part.4

The Iron Garden: Part.3

Stirrings Barren was the plain upon which she stood, pale-nude and swathed in the wind, raw-howling out across that rutted waste. The forms rose soundlessly from the ashen sand, porcelain masks glistening bone-white beneath the moon. Unease and silence so total that she felt the world itself had ceased it's celestial transit. Then a cracking… Continue reading The Iron Garden: Part.3

The Iron Garden: Part.2

Moon-blood The city buzzed like a noise-struck hornet, skittering round a white-hot light. The sound pouring forth from beneath the shade of jagged, phallic highrises, behind which grumbled ramshackle factories discharging grim, hellish plumes of living charcoal up into the darkening, moonless sky. A man stood backlit by moon in that blasted district, silent as… Continue reading The Iron Garden: Part.2

The Iron Garden: Part.1

  The Coming of Erebus The pulsing heave of synth-wave and bio-hum washed over the solitary man with the lineman's gloves. He stood back-lit by neon, silent as statuary. Smoke slow-coiling about plain black ball-cap, chrysanthemum skyliner, heavy tinted aviators and trim-fit bluejeans. He stared straight ahead, as if the club goers, dancing in schismatic… Continue reading The Iron Garden: Part.1