Moloch’s Kabbalah June 25, 2013Posted by The Typist in cryptic envelopment, Moloch, New Orleans, The Narrative, The Typist, Toulouse Street.
I sit in the coffee shop sipping green citron iced tea and making notes on the Rumpus poetry club book. Behind me sit two techno-yipsters cackling acronyms and algorithms, the hollow stories of the latest Agile software development process. Tonight I will sit on the phone for hours with people whose entire minds–excepting perhaps a spot for a favorite sports team–are entirely dedicated to the minutiae of a vast project, who can call up any obscure detail of it without frantically searching through email and documentation as I do. I will spend the dead hours of this long call reading the same book of poetry, and a novel for a class: a heathen among the rabbinical faithful constructing the final algorithm of their Moloch’s Kabbalah.