This portion of the novel was photographed and archived elsewhere and did not require duplication in letters on a page, especially after it was absorbed voraciously into a quasar—and at its accelerated rate of descent—triggered the growth of billions of cells of bacteria on a distant planet now considered to have a habitable atmosphere…”
by david moscovich
In a way, the Ceaușescus won.
This portion of the novel has been erased by The National Society of Acupuncturists (NSA).
The Ceaușescus won in a way: this portion of the novel has been deleted due to impending reportage and fact-checking to be completed at a later date.
This portion of the novel was burned—then reconstructed from the original typewritten format—which is why what remains is a fingermark of ash smeared across the page.
It was my family that lost, like so many families, but each unhappy family lost something in its own way.
This portion of the novel has been rewritten so heavily so as to be unrecognizable — even by its own mother—nonetheless cherished and loved unconditionally.
This portion of the novel has been translated by an automated service such that the original is indecipherable in any language—yet its sound is ineffably beautiful.
This portion of the novel was thrown overboard on the Staten Island Ferry in a flutter of four hundred pages—the author was bailed out of the 21st precinct in St. George, begrudgingly—by his father.
But each unhappy family must have gained some things as they lost other things—or people—shocking, I know, but Communism was not always as wonderful as it might have seemed.
This portion of the novel was photographed and archived elsewhere and did not require duplication in letters on a page, especially after it was absorbed voraciously into a quasar—and at its accelerated rate of descent—triggered the growth of billions of cells of bacteria on a distant planet now considered to have a habitable atmosphere.
This portion of the novel was soaked in a warm bubble bath with essence of lavender and cardamom, then pampered with an Esalen-style nude on nude massage—a specialty of the author—who attended a summer intensive at an all-nude massage school in the mountains of Northern California where he obtained the nickname “Chewy,” an abbreviation for “Chewbacca.”
This portion of the novel would like to tell a joke about the priest, the rabbi and the tailor—or—was it a minister, a rabbi and a wino—or was it a punk?
This portion of the novel was smoked over an applewood-fired spit, then dropped under the wheels of a locomotive on the Northeast Corridor line traveling from New York to Newark, NJ.
This portion of the novel was channeled through the many stomachs of an Idaho heifer and transmogrified into cottage cheese—kosher, gluten-free, lactose-free cottage cheese—although its lactose-free status is a label based mostly on the zero grams of sugar per serving as listed on the label—and dependent upon the presence of an enzyme which aides in the digestion of lactose—therefore one cannot say that this portion is in essence free of lactose, per se, as in having an absence of lactose—but that the portion of trace amounts of lactose traced in its trace amounts will be processed away, trace by trace—during the trace process of digestion.
This portion of the novel was sent by airmail to The Prince of Wales in a priority flat rate envelope from a US Post Office on 112th street in Manhattan.
This portion of the novel was discussed and debated heavily by the editors, and ultimately cut due to its upholding a popular fascistic acupuncture vs. surveillance dichotomy wherein only acupuncturists are held in the highest regard—and yet their dual role as modern-day Securitate is overlooked.
This portion of the novel was pulverized in a blender with carrots, ginger and raw garlic—by the Prince of Wales.
This portion of the novel was cut just after it was conceived and before it was written — a spark of injustice flares up in the author’s nostrils when he thinks of it.
This portion of the novel was perfumed with La Nuit de L’Homme by Yves Saint Laurent, then archived in the National Society of Acupuncture (NSA) data storage and retrieval center. The National Society of Acupuncture (NSA) has since revived this portion of the novel by claiming cooperative authorship—and rebottled as a new perfume—La Nuit de Moscovich by Yves Saint Laurent.
This portion of the novel was resussitated through regular moxibustion of the author’s liver meridian.
This portion of the novel is experiencing a heightened sense of awareness accompanied by feelings of intense and perhaps excessive joy, gratitude and well-being.
This portion of the novel was interviewed on KXLR 91.3 for exhibiting signs of extreme satisfaction.
This portion of the novel was rendered illegible by coffee stains, dish soap, and Groucho Marx.
This portion of the novel was discovered in abominable condition on track seven at Penn Station on the Northeast Corridor line from New York to Newark, NJ.
This portion of the novel was originally written in Romanian, then reiterated collectively during an intermittent conference call between the smoking lounge at Chicago O’Hare and 1-800-Hot-Talk.
This portion of the novel was dusted, vacuumed and polished, marinated in soy sauce, broiled then stored for Andrei Schnitzelescu, The President of All Hatred Consolidated, Inc—one of the National Society of Acupuncture (NSA)’s partner corporations—who paraglided over the rounded stone beaches above the Parque Del Amor in Lima, Peru on Friday, 13 of April 2015—and commented it was more than palatable as a side dish for pollo a la brasa.
This portion of the novel starred as a magical wingtip in an episode of Rod Serling’s The Twilight Zone.
This portion of the novel was injected in liquid form into the frame of that Andy Warhol Marilyn portrait at The MET just beyond the mezzanine — the guards seem to ignore that area.
This portion of the novel was gently smothered in manteca, lowered into a heart-shaped coffin, decorated with lit candles and set afloat in the Gowanus Canal.
This portion of the novel was retrieved from the Gowanus Canal, repackaged as the story of a poor shoemaker from post-war Italy who came to New York, struck it rich in the stock market, then realized he had sold his soul to the Girl Scouts.
This portion of the novel was discovered in a box of artificially vanilla-flavoured cookies.
(illustration: john richen)
David Moscovich is the Romanian-American author of You Are Make Very Important Bathtime (JEF Books, Chicago, IL) and LIFE+70[Redacted], a print version of the single most expensive literary e-book to ever be hacked (Lit Fest Press.) Recipient of fellowships from New York University, International House NY, and sponsorship from the New York Foundation for the Arts (NYFA), he is editor and publisher of Louffa Press, a micro-press dedicated to printing innovative fiction in collectible, handprinted chapbooks. He lives and works in New York City. More from David Moscovich can be found in the Vault of Smoke.