In a new series on the Ghost Paper Archives site, the resident archivist-reporters explore the Nobody Zone in words and images. Read the first installment and subscribe for future posts on the right sidebar of the GPA site (no WordPress account needed).
Posted by sean on June 22, 2020
https://sd-stewart.com/2020/06/22/visit-the-nobody-zone/
In a new post on the Ghost Paper Archives site, several of the interstitial archivists self-interrogate themselves, both directly and tangentially, on the subject of collaboration.
Posted by sean on June 19, 2020
https://sd-stewart.com/2020/06/19/self-interrogation-on-collaboration/
Ghost Paper Archives
(GPA) is the imprint under which A Set of Lines has been published. GPA is a publishing collaborative focused on the creation and dissemination of texts and imagery, online and in print, that document facets of the human colonization of Earth. These facets reflect a tendency toward, or even a fixation on, the eerie mundanity of quotidian life on this planet. In short: we’re here, we’ve made a total mess of the place, but what does our daily existence communicate? What about the objects (and beings) we gather around us, or the built environments we inhabit, by choice or otherwise? And what role do dreams play? How can this raw material distill itself into new and disorienting spirits within the textual story container or across the visual landscape (be it moving or still)? The tiniest narrative fronds begin to unfurl.
If you subscribe to the Lost Gander blog, either as a WordPress user or not, I invite you to also subscribe to the GPA site, as that site will hopefully soon be busier than this one has been of late. You can sign up to receive future posts on the right sidebar of the GPA site. As always, thanks for reading!
Posted by sean on May 18, 2020
https://sd-stewart.com/2020/05/18/ghost-paper-archives/
Last night I drew all night. I copied the images from the textbook and then I drew them again freehand—I made them move on the page, lengthened the lines and darkened the centers.
The tree, the river, the old textbook—a triptych with shifting borders hangs in a place where dreams and memories intersect. Omission and loss haunt those who live here, suspended as they are in an endless struggle to connect. Contracting and expanding as it progresses, the narrative of their existence ever-circles around a shrouded core.
With cover design and interior illustrations by Nate Dorr, who since 2017 has been quietly depicting the beauty of decaying, mutated biospheres in his Disaster Landforms series.
Interior design and layout wizardry by Nathan Grover.
Order the paperback | Download the ebook
Shipping Note: Delivery estimates shown during the order process are the latest possible arrival date. Most U.S. orders will take 7–11 business days to arrive, depending on the selected rate. Economy rate is reasonable: in many cases, the book will still arrive inside of a week. Delivery times outside of the U.S. will vary by location.
Posted by sean on May 15, 2020
https://sd-stewart.com/2020/05/15/now-available-a-set-of-lines/
The rat keeps gnawing through the bags so we keep adding more bags—double- and triple-bagging and onward toward what feels like a futile infinitude. We follow the rat from room to room, watch as it improbably slips through tiny cracks and crevices. At one point we corner it under a bed in a cyclindrical indentation within the floor. Bagged again, but only briefly, as it once again chews through and escapes, this time fleeing into the cafeteria. So as not to disturb or alarm the patrons we move with stealth, though our appearance—me holding a bulky bag of many layers and my team wild-eyed and sweaty with exertion—can not easily pull off subtlety. However, our thus subsequent disruption of the pleasant dining atmosphere notwithstanding, the cafeteria would in fact turn out to be the site of the triumphant final capture (and unfortunate demise) of the rat. Thus securely bagged did the now-deceased rat travel outside of the facility within its many layers of bag, held fast in my desperately clutched hands. Once outside, though, my troubles commence once again, as the only suitable location for disposal—the facility’s dumpster—appears more distant than I had remembered. In fact as I proceed toward it, the distance between said dumpster and my person actually widens with each step. What’s more, the route I follow becomes increasingly plagued with detours: security checkpoints, a sprawling road construction crew, obscure gatherings of persons whose shifty appearance suggests the need for as wide a berth as possible. Finally I can see it ahead: the bright blue dumpster with red markings, at the other end of a stretch of hot seemingly endless pavement. I can hear it now: the scrape of the side panel in its track as I slide it open. I can feel it now: the weight of the layered bags—inexplicably heavy with their sole contents a single expired rat—released, sliding from my shoulder with a soft thud onto the floor of the dumpster. I’m almost there.
Posted by sean on April 30, 2020
https://sd-stewart.com/2020/04/30/the-rat/
Posted by sean on April 11, 2020
https://sd-stewart.com/2020/04/11/spying-on-the-neighbors/
(1) Panoramic view of an obscure private social club—dark wood, dim lighting, a spiral staircase. Here, convicted individuals wearing ankle monitoring bracelets mingle with ordinary club members. I am a new recruit to an elite cadre of enforcers charged with circulating among the crowd and periodically inserting keycards into the ankle bracelets of the convicted persons in order to track their movements within the club. It’s a strange dynamic. Some individuals are resigned to the process and consent without much complaint. Others attempt to evade the enforcers by hiding in various locations within the club, causing me great anxiety on my first day of work.
(2) We enter the warehouse—it is neatly organized and relatively clean, if underlit for the type of work we are about to undertake. The job we are here to do involves assembling office chairs, although everything about the situation points to a black market operation. There are many of us here—representing all ages, genders, and backgrounds—and our numbers only increase as time passes. Suddenly a woman working alongside me expresses interest in building an automaton. I am not surprised and in fact relay to her that I know of a man working nearby who has knowledge of the process. Not only that, but on the other side of the warehouse there is a non-functioning automaton on display in some kind of artifact exhibition. I walk over to the exhibit with the woman and together we inspect the automaton. It is an impressive specimen that appears to be of high-quality construction despite its present inability to turn on and move. We return to work.
Posted by sean on February 23, 2020
https://sd-stewart.com/2020/02/23/recent-dreams/
I arrive in town exhausted. The need to stash my belongings points to a decrepit white Victorian with the air of a boarding house. No one’s around when I enter but this does not concern me. I shove my bags under the bed in an otherwise empty room and return to the street. No one’s outside, either. The town feels like it’s holding its breath. I cross the street to a disused petrol station. As I’m standing in the parking lot a car engine revs from behind the garage. Tires squealing, an old Trans Am speeds out and across the street, up the short incline to the house, and rams through the doorway, disappearing inside. I find this alarming and walk away at a rapid pace.
Now I’m hiding in the woods up the hill and down the street from the house. It’s a pleasant spot, almost like a tended garden but wild enough to offer adequate cover. I keep watch from atop a large boulder. Just as my pulse slows to resting rate a pair of wizard-thieves appears in the street below. They look up in my direction before entering the house. Despite the Trans Am now presumably wedged in the vestibule, only a few minutes pass before they walk out carrying my bags.
I know they are coming for me next, so I don’t bother with further retreat. It will only aggravate them to a higher level of violent intent. When they arrive at my boulder I am calm. They seize me and take me to their camp deep in the woods beyond the town limits.
Over the next few days I attempt to impress them with my rudimentary skills. I levitate small objects and hurl them across the campsite, much to the irritation of its inhabitants. In a moment of insolence I attempt to use my power to asphyxiate the field lieutenant as he delivers a formal complaint about my presence to the lead wizard-thief. A scornful bark escapes the lieutenant’s lips as my weak effort fails. Humiliated I shrink away to my tent. But I know those who matter are secretly impressed. Soon I will be ready. Soon I too will matter.
Posted by sean on January 19, 2020
https://sd-stewart.com/2020/01/19/a-dream-story/
Posted by sean on December 17, 2019
https://sd-stewart.com/2019/12/17/yeah-thats-right-thats-the-way-it-is/
Outside the city walls the scientist retires to smoke his long-stemmed pipe and absorb the local gossip. As the burnt yellow of the sky fades, scattered fires spring up, each circled by a huddle of indistinct figures. The scientist approaches one such group, steps within the fire’s glow and notices a figure seated apart from the others, its face shrouded by a voluminous hood. To this one he turns his attention.
Ah, Liferuiner, it’s been a long time.
The figure nods.
And how many lives have been touched by your handiwork since last we spoke?
The figure stirs, clears its throat.
Actually I’ve been on hiatus, so to speak.
I see. So how have you been spending your time?
I’d rather not say. And you? How go the experiments?
The same as always, my friend. I fear I will never reach the threshold I seek to cross.
Too bad. It is hard for us on the fringes. Our work is never appreciated.
The scientist nods as he puffs on his pipe, watching the Liferuiner jab at the fire with a rough-hewn staff, jostling the reddened coals until sparks shoot forth.
I must return to the laboratory soon, my friend. I cannot tarry here all evening long, as others are wont to do.
The Liferuiner raises its cloaked head, reaches out a withered hand and grasps the fringe of the scientist’s sleeve.
Before you go, I have something for you.
It reaches into a satchel slung across its chest and brings out a small vial of pitch black fluid.
Take this, my friend. May it aid your progress in reaching that threshold you speak of.
The scientist holds up the vial, through the contents of which no light passes. A faint smile flickers across his lips.
I am once again in your debt, my friend. Please do take good care.
He stands and touches the brim of his hat, but the hooded figure has already turned back to the fire, stoking it viciously again with the staff.
Up above the craggy walls of the city loom in the light of the rising moon. The scientist steps forward, now following the path back to the structured madness of his experiments.
Posted by sean on September 14, 2019
https://sd-stewart.com/2019/09/14/outside-the-walls/
s. d. stewart 