I, No Other
Rimbaud said, “I is an other.” Not long after that, he was selling GUNS. Contra Rimbaud, *I, No Other* admits only I. In the hallowed “tradition” of the avant-garde, these stories unseat tradition. You may call them absurd, surreal, irreal, experimental, transgressive, dark, playful, or even just funny… but DON’T call them Other! **Ten offbeat Narrations & Exaltations for your delectation:** —a flâneur of consciousness exploring his native city, —a not-guilty conscience endlessly revising the crime it can’t remember, —the Holy Assumption of a rogue sexbot, —a man and his golem usurping Death, —a timid college girl coming out of her shell to expropriate the Godhead, —and more! *I, No Other* is a cerebral defibrillator you forgot had been implanted until it routinely—and unexpectedly—shocks you back to life. They may hurt at times, dear reader, the jolts of these agitations, but it is a vital hurt. With a cast of narrators on the brink of discovery in all its forms, *I, No Other* collects Yarrow Paisley’s most exquisite absurdist interludes.
