Rimbaud said, “I is an other.” Not long after that, he was selling GUNS. Contra Rimbaud, I, No Other admits only I. In the hallowed “tradition” of the avant-garde, these stories unseat tradition. You may call them absurd, surreal, irreal, experimental, transgressive, dark, playful, or even just funny… but DON’T call them Other!

Ten offbeat Narrations & Exaltations for your delectation:
—a flâneur of consciousness exploring his native city,
—a not-guilty conscience endlessly revising the crime it can’t remember,
—the Holy Assumption of a rogue sexbot,
—a man and his golem usurping Death,
—a timid college girl coming out of her shell to expropriate the Godhead,
—and more!

I, No Other is a cerebral defibrillator you forgot had been implanted until it routinely—and unexpectedly—shocks you back to life. They may hurt at times, dear reader, the jolts of these agitations, but it is a vital hurt. With a cast of narrators on the brink of discovery in all its forms, I, No Other collects Yarrow Paisley’s most exquisite absurdist interludes.