This an anecdote about the rise of Halloween in Russia in the 1990s as an American commercial holiday, and the controveries over it.
This is a controversial love poem about the splendid fancy shapes of sculpted butter you find in some restaurants.
This is a prose-based restaurant where you can wander around the words and punctuation I wrote for you, and take the ones you like, and send the rest back to the kitchen without a fleck of guilt, and best of all it's free. For now.
This is a roller-skate musical about trains that came out of the 1970s, but never made it big because Starlight Express came out separately and by total coincidence one week earlier, and so it was sent back out of the theatres without a fleck of guilt.
This is Genghis Khan Super Horse 1206 AD.
This is the plural of zero, the steam-train loaded up to the brim with black holes, the baby crying across the restaurant that makes you remember what it was like to be that young, the sloppy handwriting that makes you feel annoyance and affection in turn, the seamless wall of ideas that drift away when you look at them too closely, the wild dance of copper and linen.
This is a folktale about the wild Dionysian dances your Halloween decorations perform the night after you put them all away in storage for next year, which you really should go do if you haven't already.