Christina Tudor-Sideri@dreamsofbeing_

in the manuscript

Joined April 2014
5,868 Photos and videos
at the gates of everything that is in vain
Stack of books I’ve written since 2020, from the top: An Absence of Sea, Schism Blue, If I Had Not Seen Their Sleeping Faces, Disembodied, Under the Sign of the Labyrinth

ALT Stack of books I’ve written since 2020, from the top: An Absence of Sea, Schism Blue, If I Had Not Seen Their Sleeping Faces, Disembodied, Under the Sign of the Labyrinth

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Christina Tudor-Sideri retweeted
Joseph Schreiber@roughghosts
Oct 1
“I write in circles”: Beauty Burning: The Condition of Music by Daniela Cascella @press_erratum roughghosts.com/2026/10/01/i…
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At night—Miss MacIntosh, My Darling. “Every crack might suddenly be the abyss.”
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“He selects for himself new languages to be silent in.” —Elias Canetti
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Christina Tudor-Sideri retweeted
Tobias Ryan@TobiasvRyan
Sep 30
.@MinorLits Monthly Dispatch #38 out NOW! feat. @mcmansionhell @LucyKulwiec @dreamsofbeing_ Nate Lippens, Dragan Aleksić (tr. @DavidVichnar) Susan Finlay, Adrian Duncan, Denise Rose Hansen & more ... link below 👇
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Canetti in the early hours. “A writer who doesn’t have a wound that’s always open is no writer for me,” he writes in Notes from Hampstead.
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“Wonderful to arise half asleep, to sit at my desk half asleep, to write half asleep.”
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Nothing forms you as the nonevent forms you. A nonnight in a noncity in a nonroom, and the nongesture goes on happening forever. No moment is as eternal as the unfulfilled moment.
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I have yet to make sense of whether this is a cruelty or a tenderness, the fact that what you most relive is this eternal phantom memory of that which was never lived at all. The grief has nowhere to go with this collapse. And so, yes, higher than actuality stands possibility.
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There is, of course, no making sense of it, and that is not even how one should frame it, but the ghost demands a home anyway, and what better place to shelter a ghost than in introspection?
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Write me a room.
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Perhaps this one.
... rain and rain, without stop yesterday, and just now it's beginning anew. Looking straight ahead, you'd think: it's going to snow. But last night I was awakened by the presence of moonlight in a corner above my rows of books; a spot that did not shine but covered a place on the wall like a patch of aluminum. And the room was full of cold night all the way into the corners; one could tell, lying in bed, that it was also under the wardrobe, under the chest of drawers and around the objects without any space in between, all around the brass chandeliers, which looked very cold. But the morning was bright. A broad east wind invading us with a developed front, because he finds the city so spacious. Rilke, Letters on Cézanne; tr. Joel Agee

ALT ... rain and rain, without stop yesterday, and just now it's beginning anew. Looking straight ahead, you'd think: it's going to snow. But last night I was awakened by the presence of moonlight in a corner above my rows of books; a spot that did not shine but covered a place on the wall like a patch of aluminum. And the room was full of cold night all the way into the corners; one could tell, lying in bed, that it was also under the wardrobe, under the chest of drawers and around the objects without any space in between, all around the brass chandeliers, which looked very cold. But the morning was bright. A broad east wind invading us with a developed front, because he finds the city so spacious. Rilke, Letters on Cézanne; tr. Joel Agee
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“his manuscripts and diaries are here with me” Milena to Max Brod; tr. Philip Boehm
[presumably mid-July 1924] Dear Herr Doktor: I'm returning the book to you with thanks, please forgive me for not looking you up. I hardly think I could talk about Franz right now, and I'm sure you won't want to speak with me about him at this time either. With your permission, I'll let you know before I come to Prague in September. Please remember me kindly and please convey my best wishes to your wife, whom I once probably wronged without intending to. When you have the opportunity, please make sure my letters which belonged to Franz are burned; I trust you will do so, although of course this is nothing important. His manuscripts and diaries (not at all intended for me, since they were written before he knew me, about fifteen large notebooks) are here with me and, should you need them, are at your disposal. This is as he wished; he asked me not to show them to anyone but you and then only after he died. Perhaps you already know them in part.

ALT [presumably mid-July 1924] Dear Herr Doktor: I'm returning the book to you with thanks, please forgive me for not looking you up. I hardly think I could talk about Franz right now, and I'm sure you won't want to speak with me about him at this time either. With your permission, I'll let you know before I come to Prague in September. Please remember me kindly and please convey my best wishes to your wife, whom I once probably wronged without intending to. When you have the opportunity, please make sure my letters which belonged to Franz are burned; I trust you will do so, although of course this is nothing important. His manuscripts and diaries (not at all intended for me, since they were written before he knew me, about fifteen large notebooks) are here with me and, should you need them, are at your disposal. This is as he wished; he asked me not to show them to anyone but you and then only after he died. Perhaps you already know them in part.
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“A new beginning can only mean that we have, in all innocence, forgotten the beginning. In any case, beginning means forgetting,” writes Jabés. “We think we begin, whereas we always start over, with both what is manifest and what withdraws into its night.” (tr. Rosmarie Waldrop)
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How dizzying the twists and turns of endless beginnings—
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Rilkean bibliomancy in the afternoon
The Ninth Elegy; translated by Stephen Mitchell

ALT The Ninth Elegy; translated by Stephen Mitchell
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Christina Tudor-Sideri retweeted
The sunny side of Franz Kafka
@AmschelKavka
Sep 25
Dearest, it's still very early, work is waiting, the boss is waiting.. but I'm still sitting here at the typewriter, spending time on you. Franz Kafka, 1916. (Kafka's typewriter at work:)
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Christina Tudor-Sideri retweeted
Erratum@press_erratum
Sep 25
SCHOPENHAUER by Nathan Knapp *out today* order here >> erratumpress.com/schopenhaue… @nate_knapp24
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In September and at night, Béla Tarr’s Almanac of Fall. “What can you do but dream?”
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Christina Tudor-Sideri retweeted
Greg Gerke / Socrates on the Beach@Greg_Gerke
Sep 22
Novel excerpt up at Hobart. Thanks to Garielle. hobartpulp.com/web_features/…

THE MANY MEN IN MY LAS MENINAS  by Greg Gerke

This is an excerpt from a novel-in-progress. The narrator believes her son has died. As much as I need to understand the art of relationships and the love that strengthens them from within, I find...

hobartpulp.com
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Christina Tudor-Sideri retweeted
Erratum@press_erratum
Sep 24
'After a few drinks, you start chatting up the host and find that despite your initial doubts he’s oddly fascinating in an oblique kind of way...' S.D. Stewart responds to Ann Quin's Berg erratumpress.com/party-time
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