work by Alex Deleuse.

Zhaozho looked at the swirling dust in front of him and said: There goes another one.


  • Heist Films

    I have an addictive personality. This is the line we use. All of my addictions fall under the paralytic shelter of postponing life. I have become an expert, a high scholar, at this. I’m mentally maneuvering and I’m rationally disengaging and all possible trajectories have been interrupted, each kept at an unlived distance. This can… Continue reading

  • Ping Pong

    In my neighborhood we all got together each summer and played ping pong. Kids of appropriate ages would bike over to our cul-de-sac and wait their turn to “play winner.” We would play under the sun all day, with the kind of dehydrated feverishness that can only come from youthful reserves. In the evening the… Continue reading

  • Without This Food You Are A Nobody

    Scallop carpaccio and sunken clams. Here in San Francisco, food is what is on our minds. We are ill and drunk and foaming at every hour with a hunger that our stomach could have never dreamt up. The table has now become a refuge of the sick. It’s the ripe inversion of Hamsun’s Hunger, a… Continue reading

  • The Phelan Building

    There is a triangular building with an open center near San Francisco’s Union Square. The Phelan building (I pronounce it Feelin), was built a few years after the 1906 earthquake and resembles the Flatiron building in New York City, with long scalene sides meeting at the intersection of O’Farrell and Market Streets. In the early… Continue reading

  • Notes On The Housewife

    For ever since I can remember I have been fixated on the housewife. Over the years, the housewife has been the rosy cheeked canvas on which I project everything and anything having to do with the feminine. An everlasting gaze of lust, scorn, jealousy, pity and love. Yes, she is that. She’s all that and… Continue reading