1st Printing, #PX001
A young man returns home after years of absence to find that, as always, some things have changed while others, as always, have remained the same. He comes back to the hometown he escaped from to try and sell the two things still left untouched on his body. His story, though, is just an illustration, a guide to lead you into the sunny corridors of Southern California, but never out of them. It is a symptom of suburbia receding in a fade-out that cannot be reversed. Of course, it could be read as the hidden tale of a family dissolving in the bowels of Southern California, or taught as the secret history of the State, dreaming itself into oblivion.
The Mundane History of Lockwood Heights is the first story in the System Socal story cycle.
Limited to 300 numbered copies.
Βinding Machine stitched
Size 10 X 15 cm
Package Postcard, Bookmark
Released 29 October 2012
Notes Stamped and numbered
“In its best moments (and there are plenty of those), “Heights” commands the reader’s attention with its bizarre mix of pathos and the pathetic, with sharp humor that threatens to tip into something more sinister. The southern California exurb Kechagiar crafts recalls the slightly off dystopias of George Saunders—the kind of place we wish were more removed from our immediate reality.”
I tell him that I’ve always thought of families as systems of arranged magnets. Their polarity affects their position in the system and their relative distance from each of the other members. Some elements of every family are drawn to one another.
(others are repulsed)
Mothers to sons. Fathers to daughters. Siblings to each other. The polarity is affected by sexuality, although it is by no means the deciding factor. I tell him that most of the times the system is more complicated. A child is strongly repulsed by one parent, his mother for example, while weakly attracted by his father. Or, subtler still, the repulsive force is so slow, unstoppable and falsely weak, that year after year the son, the daughter, the estranged father or the scorned mother, is edged out of the system, in spite of love that is constantly stated but never given. The distance blooms into irreparable chasms.
I tell him that it’s all about polarity. How
your magnet fits in the arrangement.
He doesn’t seem to be listening.
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