Corbin Allardice
Nadirisms 18-20: The artist's gesture, shoe, & truth
18th Nadirism: There are some people who carry a glass of water with such concentrated exertion, that they begin to sweat in the process....
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Corbin Allardice
- Nov 20, 2020
- 2 min
Nadirisms 15-17: Aunt-Shylock, Letter to a Young Poet, & Anachronism
15th Nadirism: A young writer wrote to me: Everyone says (so he says) that you must write the way people speak. So, of course, I...
Corbin Allardice
- Nov 19, 2020
- 2 min
Nadirisms 12-14
12th Nadirism: (Warning, this entry includes the use of an anti-Roma slur. I have decided to translate it with that term because the...
Corbin Allardice
- Nov 18, 2020
- 2 min
Nadirisms 10-11: Writer's Obligations
10th Nadirism A poem came to me with teary eyes and asked: write me down. There’s no time to waste. So I took pity on the poem’s teary...
Corbin Allardice
- Nov 17, 2020
- 2 min
Nadirisms 6-9
6th Nadirism For the time being, I carry the “wine of literature” in my pockets, or cupped between my palms, without a language, without...
Corbin Allardice
- Nov 16, 2020
- 2 min
Nadirisms 2-5
2nd Nadirism: The Writer’s “Soul.” The writer possesses nothing more than the word, with which they shoot up flares from the distant...
Corbin Allardice
- Nov 16, 2020
- 1 min
1st Nadirism: The Epigraph
When my flesh is consumed, my blood dried, my bones whittled down--then I will become fine literature: perfumed as the withered grasses;...
Corbin Allardice
- Oct 22, 2020
- 1 min
Moyshe Varshe - Book Finished!!
Wow, with that last entry, the entirety of Metempsychoses: The Diary and Writings of Moyshe Varshe (vegn fun a neshome: togbukh, ferzn,...
Corbin Allardice
- Oct 22, 2020
- 1 min
Commonplace Book 7: Et Cetera (Final Entry)
Ovid Forgive, and bear it all happy. (source unknown) Fartsey, un trog alts iber dermutik. Shakespeare Forbear to judge, for we are...
Corbin Allardice
- Oct 21, 2020
- 8 min
Commonplace Book 6: Stanisław Brzozowski
(Note: Today's entry consists of Varshe's translation of the Polish philosopher Stanisław Brzozowski. Unfortunately, the latter is all...
Corbin Allardice
- Oct 20, 2020
- 9 min
Commonplace Book 5: Otto Weininger
(Note: The present entry consists of Varshe's translations and adaptations from Sex and Character (Geschlecht und Charakter) by the...
Corbin Allardice
- Oct 19, 2020
- 2 min
Commonplace Book 4: Nietzsche
And if that is my alpha and omega, that all heaviness becomes light, all body dancer, all spirit bird – and truly, that is my alpha and...
Corbin Allardice
- Oct 18, 2020
- 3 min
Commonplace Book 3: Walt Whitman
[Note: Although perhaps contingent--the result of unfinished or sloppy work, of bad bookkeeping or so on--it seems apparent from the...
Corbin Allardice
- Oct 15, 2020
- 4 min
Commonplace Book 2: Marcus Aurelius
Translation 2: Marcus Aurelius (Note: This entry consists of Varshe's translations from Marcus Aurelius' Meditations. In this instance, I...
Corbin Allardice
- Oct 14, 2020
- 7 min
Commonplace Book 1: Gospels (Evangelium)
Gospels (Evangelium) (Note: The rvemainder of the books consists of fragments of Varshe's translation. It is remarkable the degree to...
Corbin Allardice
- Oct 13, 2020
- 1 min
Poem 18 - Parable of the Blind Man (Final Poem)
Poem 18 - Parable of the Blind Man (Untitled) And someone with blind eyes comes before me And stands silent in the doorway. His eyes...
Corbin Allardice
- Oct 12, 2020
- 1 min
Poem 17 - Maybe (Untitled)
And maybe?...maybe?... The devil played me like Job, Smelled how the stink of prey from me arose; And then he reached out and touched my...
Corbin Allardice
- Oct 11, 2020
- 2 min
Poem 16 - A Lullaby (Untitled)
Who came to me in the silence of night, who came to despoil the radiant light Of my still childish vision? Who crooked my spine with a...
Corbin Allardice
- Oct 10, 2020
- 1 min
Poem 15 - Quiet Watched the Moon (Untitled)
I ran out to the street. The street was still asleep In a black and burdened dream. Quiet watched the moon With a dead face, dead and...
Corbin Allardice
- Oct 9, 2020
- 1 min
Poem 14 - Dumah (Untitled)
In a long, insomniac night when I thought, in sorrow spirling, That it would never be--then, quietly, he came to me-- He brought me...
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