After two and a half years, it is finished.
I just sent my new book Almost Any Shit Will Do to print.
Here are some notes on the process, for you:
We were circling it in the thick moment approaching. Something so fragile it could barely be whispered for the fear that our breathing would cause it to collapse. There was this search for a we, or the we, or this we, and we were seeking it in riot and in the swarm. Seeking the singular in the plural of it. Seeking a tenuous we. A more porous I. A we that emerges in the movement between the one and the many.
We were approaching in the aftermath of an autumn’s global uprisings, tracing the lines leading back to a riot, back to a body thick with gravity against the ground. How it has already happened and it is happening. In the evenings, we would wrap ourselves in blankets. These failing moments when we could no longer push our bodies back into the fray, live-streaming marches shot on phones with shaking hands.
This is an attempt: to make a map and not a tracing. But how to pull apart the threads? To map what-could-still-be through a series of approaches.
There is the swell of the crowd and the soft breathing of many bodies, an impression left beneath the surface of the of skin. Something here is undefinable, something urgent–a tangled mass of branching fibers