Judgement Day
by Justin Clemens I’m not down on literary festivals, as some readers of my previous post seemed to think. On the contrary, I love them — although that doesn’t mean I don’t think their current excrescent phosphorescence has something suspicious about it. Love is a funny word, a complex feeling, and an intense, involved process, and I’ve never really understood why, when whatever love is is in question, anybody should stop questioning either the love or its nominal object. In fact, I’d suggest that love without self-questioning barely deserves the name of love at all. If sometimes you go too…