William A. Patterson

Alex’s Newsletter — On a Rainy Stonehenge-cold Day On a rainy Stonehenge-cold day The head blinked - so the thunder so The pride I'll go out on the range And take the dogs they'll hem me. I'm happy married to the dogs They are faithful creatures - I pass The Bogside dessicate soil: Wrey-Sherman haunted the dead souls, I unionise the predators: And stick them with eternal dues.

Alex’s Newsletter — On a Rainy Stonehenge-cold Day On a rainy Stonehenge-cold day The head blinked - so the thunder so The pride I'll go out on the range And take the dogs they'll hem me. I'm happy married to the dogs They are faithful creatures - I pass The Bogside dessicate soil: Wrey-Sherman haunted the dead souls, I unionise the predators: And stick them with eternal dues.

Substack.com — Facebook Inc.'s daemonic addiction to the human commodity, one civil death before the next, repeat, continue. What? Until people lose their minds completely? Facebook Inc. - ongoing Cambridge Analytica - serious saga in Australia, it's live.

Substack.com — The Essay I quite worship Proust, Kafka, and Montaigne. It is a strange thing with one’s writers; the utterly natural but paradoxically so aberrant forces amassing in one’s mind look for them while writing a poem, a story, a novel, for structural and mindful elements and parts to grasp at and to put to immediate use. . .

Substack.com — Watership Down, gather around / There's a story to be told / It's for the young and for the old / You might hear them in the distance / If your ear's to the ground Hideaway (America Album), 1972 Songwriters: Gerry Beckley Watership Down lyrics © Warner Chappell Music, Inc A wistful rosy melody combed the air to his hearing. He felt a brief respite that he allowed to echo for half a minute or so. He braided her hair. No man had ever braided her hair before. She guided his fingers when they struggled or lost it with a part. The braiding isn’t the first thing he had done that no other man had done before. He took her sailing on the lake in rented small sail boats. No man had ever taken her sailing. No man had touched her skin the way he touched her skin.

Substack.com — I started writing this response as an Entr'acteto to a Short Story I wrote, and abidingly subtitled Carmen; mainly entitled, Braiding. For whatever reason, it is my favorite story; by all accounts, it shouldn't be.

Substack.com — He was really amazed. It all meant so little to him. Glimpses, maybe. Straight-on, what a waste of time. Blueberry Hill. Stained glass. Fleeting wisps of kindergarten and dancing songs and rainbow people. Palladiums and old Volvos, young parents in galoshes in the California rains after school, Marylls picking you up at two.

Substack.com — She said that she could care less and that she didn't give a damn. That it had been in cold blood and that that's how she was going to go with it tomorrow. It rained heavily that night.

Substack.com — This device was a nasty thing. He had seen its type before. Clearing areas for mines in the theaters. Trying to stay on schedule to go in ahead of missions and larger patrols, with a technical team of eight for maintenance, measurement, calibration, and radio-aheads. He could smell the device.

Amazon — Product description Review UC Berkley English professor Robert Hass - winner the Pulitzer Prize and the National Book Critics Circle Awards - writes of Alex: 'Alex Patterson is a very gifted young writer.' --Robert Hass This essay (The American Prison) is not a term paper on prisons in America. Rather, it is a document of personal disclosure. Mr. Patterson has engaged passionately with his American tradition. This is to the degree of an exceptionality that is remarkably exposed in this work. He has wrestled so intensely with America that he has taken to exile in Europe. This is the second exceptionality remarked here. I write criticism of academic physics, and do it with some flair. But Alex addresses a bigger culture and hierarchy, writing with such passion, poetry and structure as to make the third exceptionality of this work. I think that this all amounts to a ponderance worthy of your time. --Michael J. Burns, Grand Rapids, Mi. The novel in this collection (Between Heaven and Earth) is about how children, in a heavenly state, begin to know the earthly world. How much of an illusion are both. How our vital instincts create these illusions. How our subjectivity reigns upon our lives. The book is a remarkable piece of art. 'Will we ever have day here?' asks the young and tormented Bartholomew. On this Earth? The book ends with narrating, in the same intense style, Piers', Jude's and Evan's lives as adults. But what about Bartholomew? The book contains at least twice the sentence 'Bartholomew was not stupid.' Indeed, we are not stupid. Only that this world is tragic. And cleverness does not help. What, who, then? This is a great question the book leaves for the readers. --Dr. Marian Apostol. Professor, Department of Theoretical Physics, Institute of Atomic Physics, Magurele-Bucharest. About the Author Alex Patterson was born and raised in Oakland, California. He studied English at the University of California. He has traveled widely, having lived and worked in fifteen different countries across three continents. He lives in Europe. He did his thesis in a graduate course on James Joyce's Ulysses, partly under the conduction and aegis of Professor Emeritus Julian Boyd. He concentrated on Joyce's use of modality in Ulysses. Professor Boyd wrote: 'Alex Patterson is without question a kind of genius - of a caliber I've encountered (maybe) only two or three times before in twenty-eight years here.... I am virtually certain that, with the right tutelage, he will produce something of genuine importance. He works virtually non-stop and has extraordinarily wide and deep interests.'

alibris.com —

bit.ly —

alibris.co.uk —

www.textbookx.com — Seller: University Press Books DESCRIPTION: It's a Mandala. The city is one of the major exhibits in the doctrine of Carl Jung. Like a mandala, the city is a symbolic diagram of the human spirit. So Carl Jung remarked in his "Man and His Symbols" that the shallow spirituality in America shows itself in physically and spiritually rundown neighborhoods in the central city populated by rejected classes of people. Compare this, he urges, to the occurrence of palaces in the cities of eastern empire and the spires and towers in some western cities, the alternatives of luxury or high ideal. I was struck again by the metaphor of the city in "Dhalgren" by Samuel R. Delany. Namely, that a nearly psychotic civilization (such as French psychoanalysts claim existed in early modern times) would map out a city hosting a rat race of desperate and pointless existence. Maybe it is a good portent that high rise condos are currently being occupied in the center of my own Grand Rapids. Michael J. Burns Grand Rapids, Michigan. March, 2010

Substack.com — He stood out on the deck of his house over the practically vast eucalyptus canyon of poison ivy and sage brush and squirrels and robins with its eleven-foot stilts. He put his hands forward on the wooden fencing of the deck. There was still time.

Substack.com — I had proposed to write a nonfiction piece of writing that advances, fluidly and step by step, the language that can only describe the true, actual, demythologised realities of Ukraine's involuntary, unchosen role in the Second World War - a horror-role, an Untermenschliche Freddy Kruger role in whom the drugged

Substack.com — Around me, the world is at war. With a similar simple declarative sentence Orwell started one of his classic essays. Evelyn Waugh always comes to mind when I start to think of these things, in this way: that the world is at war, that it is all around me.