Forrest Hylton
A Different Sort of Blowback
By Forrest HyltonCocaine is a central commodity of the neoliberal age; so, too, its re-processed form (“crack”) for the desperately poor in de-industrialized cities of the North and South Atlantic.
AMATEUR NIGHT
A fragment from Isolate Flecks: An Anatomy
By Forrest Hylton
“Self-expression is not a crime,” reads a piece of graffiti in East Williamsburg. Maybe it should be.
CLASS NOTES: A fragment from Isolate Flecks: An Anatomy
By Forrest HyltonAnton married Becca Kaufman a few years after they graduated, she from Brown and he from RISD. Then, after ten years, a stalled career as a conceptualist, and two kids later, he had too many at Leo’s reception.
ARTS AND LETTERS
A fragment from Isolate Flecks: An Anatomy
By Forrest Hylton
Leo Kaufman had gotten so used to playing the bohemian Jew from Manhattan that he forgot what it was like to be one. Columbia had kids who could play the bass, who could write poetry. They practiced all day in the basement of Delta Phi, versified at the Hungarian Pastry Shop until closing.
OEDIPAL CONTEXT A fragment from Isolate Flecks: An Anatomy
By Forrest HyltonToo many choices, literary and otherwise.
BUSHWICK BOUNCE
A fragment from Isolate Flecks: An Anatomy
By Forrest Hylton
Yeah, so, I used to have this job, right, writing ad copy for sex workers. I would like go online to find these reviews of other sex workers—you could always tell the real johns, who wrote about exits and off-ramps and discreet parking—and then I’d basically steal the parts I liked, you know, maybe use my imagination a little, but try to stick to facts pretty much.
ARTS AND LETTERS: The Sequel
A fragment from Isolate Flecks: An Anatomy
By Forrest Hylton
A poet and critic of minor gifts, Silvio Artifoni moved to Williamsburg after jazz musicians and painters had consolidated, but before developers, architects, and graphic designers arrived.
Asalto Navideño
By Forrest HyltonEvery year people die, get crippled, or suffer deformities at Christmas. This year alone the cops nabbed twenty-seven tons of contraband fireworks, and more than three hundred people burned to death from those that got through. Mostly kids.
Identity Crisis
By Forrest HyltonRamón Antonio Jaramillo looked through Estrecho’s cemeteries, but had yet to find his grave. Until he did, he couldn’t prove that he didn’t die on Christmas Eve eleven years before.
Hurto Revertido
By Forrest HyltonGreed will kill you.
Contours: An excerpt from Vanishing Acts: A Tragedy
By Forrest HyltonFlapping his arms in widening, counter-clockwise circles, Richard Melville finds he can fly. It isn’t really flying, though, more like some suspended animation catapult.
