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Chris Newlove Horton
Chris Newlove Horton is a writer living in London.

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DATE NIGHT

Prize Entry

April 2016

Chris Newlove Horton

Prize Entry

April 2016

He said, ‘Tell me about yourself.’ He said, ‘Tell me about you.’ He said, ‘Tell me everything. I’m interested.’ He said, ‘I want to...

fiction

April 2015

Heavy

Chris Newlove Horton

fiction

April 2015

It is a two lane road somewhere in North America. The car is pulled onto the shoulder with the...

The first time I think I saw Robinson? I’d have to have been leaving Yucaipa He was on an old bike, a rusted, duct- taped contraption I imagine must’ve squeaked and rattled from a loose chain or dust in the brakes… but I keep the music up when I drive, so I can’t re-place the sound, I can’t say there was a clatter-and-drag, whether it proceeded him, or enshrined him like some moving castle of music; Robinson Lonewolf, can you see him? the mad conductor, a gypsy percussive, orchestrating a synchronized cloud of ratcheting ticks No, I didn’t see his face Why d’you ask?   –What do I say of him being faceless? I can say I’m pretty sure it was him I know you know the trick with car mirrors   The second time? Years later I was in Red Rock country, north of Vegas, just off the 15 I passed a sign that read: Valley of Fire, and, Lake Mead and I swear I saw Robinson leaned against it just like that cowboy’s silhouette you hit in  Laughlin The neon one on the border of Nevada and California— He raised his arm too, dipped his hat brim like that as I passed him   –I saw stubble on his jaw, a chain at his throat and half a smile of white teeth No No bags with him   –He must’ve been headed north to— seemed he was hitching my side of the road   Significance of seeing Robinson? Stupid question Like, what color’s the air? Who cares I just see him when I see him   Yeah That was a bad one Two years locked up, San Bernardino County Detention   No He wasn’t I drove the car alone   Then it must’ve been Orange County, at a light Yeah it was late, just past the industrial part of town, you know, where that factory sends those plumes into the sky and that new hotel offsets ‘em like a Breughel painting? Hunting- ton Beach Boulevard, off the PCH?   –I don’t know I think he was on deck or in one of those drum circles that spring up ‘organically,’ you know? I saw a crowd piled up around him… Think of Robinson with one of those little monkeys that begs for dollars and change! How funny that’d be Yeah, I know why I’m here You sure you do?   No I haven’t seen him in Yucaipa for years Since

Contributor

August 2014

Chris Newlove Horton

Contributor

August 2014

Chris Newlove Horton is a writer living in London.

James Richards: Not Blacking Out...

Art

December 2011

Chris Newlove Horton

Art

December 2011

Artist James Richards appropriates audio-visual material gathered from a range of sources, which he then edits into elaborate, fragmented collages.   But whereas his...

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Art

Issue No. 1

The Idea Machine: Brion Gysin

Marina Cashdan

Art

Issue No. 1

Painter, performer, poet, writer and mystic Brion Gysin (1916-86) was an early prophet of our age. He was a...

feature

Issue No. 17

Editorial

The Editors

feature

Issue No. 17

An Englishman, a Frenchman and an Irishman set up a magazine in London in 2010. This sounds like the...

feature

Issue No. 6

The Prosaic Sublime of Béla Tarr

Rose McLaren

feature

Issue No. 6

I have to recognise it’s cosmical; the shit is cosmical. It’s not just social, it’s not just ontological, it’s really...

 

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