Tag Archives: Fight Club

Orifices, no thrusting, and a banished body– a bitch of a hyperstitch

I am Jack’s utter exhaustion. There’s not-so-subtle hanky-panky in that nested, hypertext within hypertext, dream within a dream within a dream-of-a-chapter. I hear you, Shelley Jackson. Mention the unmentionables. Speak the unspeakable. Hell, wear that tutu-catcher’s mask ensemble to a … Continue reading

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