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With my mind in a solemn abyss of thought, with no direct association to anything, no new theories, & no security or validity for the previous ones, I still find an ordinary pleasure in placing the pen in my right hand & touching its tip to a blank page, dispersing its ink, shaping it into known hieroglyphs we've adapted as the written language. A vacant simplicity dictates this moment, a dedication to nothing, a blank stare into the forum of ...

Sebastian Milej, as he writes, is capable of "a crime masked by dignity." He is a seer into "being, inlaid and marginal, " who lives in a world of senators and ostriches, of Chopin nocturnes and of "sham pearls" poured "over a dark wood floor." He lives a mightier life than you or I do, one half-immersed in dream, the charged, ambiguous existence of someone who, like Rimbaud, has systematically disordered all his senses and has declared a new,...

WHILE" is the incendiary, onanistic work of a writer basking in the climax of entropy. It is a collection of intransigent madness, singed with sado-masochistic candor." Percival Strange