![]() ![]() Everything is a huge joke even when it’s not. Lockwood’s hyperactive self awareness – there is nothing you can throw at her that she won’t have already thought – gives her writing a wired, questioning restlessness that often bends back on itself. The election of Trump, referred to as the Dictator, is a “Gatsby was dead in the pool” moment. ![]() “My phone tells me I have a new memory,” she observes bleakly, more than once. ![]() Lockwood’s fictional avatar writes, on her compulsive participation in the collective conversation. “She had to have some say in what happened, even if it was only WHAT?” It’s a filthy, funny, strung-out prose poem that aims to capture precisely how we think and speak online and what that might mean, and it’s often both stingingly accurate and weirdly beautiful.
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