A life form was trapped, nearly burned out of existence. Transported from a warzone to this earth, different timeline, it was infused with human DNA to be raised as human to survive. It grew rapidly, more rapidly than geneticists had expected. Yet, it was aware, just unsure of current surroundings in an alien culture. It was rescued too soon from the healing crèche for it to reconstruct complete memory of existence, but could learn, adapt. Always had. She was female, pleasingly; it felt right. She was called Katherine, here, a human designation. Ironically, even different, the only obstacle apparent was her difficulty in vocally copying human speech. Even instinctually understanding all languages, here or elsewhere, this human English with its double meanings of words was befuddling. In growing, learning rules, she’s drawn to a dark professor, feeling kinship despite opposite color of outer shell. He’s not rebuffed by her vocal disability as are others! He learns signing to communicate, yet actually understands her sounds of high-pitched chirrups. She feels closely interconnected with him—she knows his scent, feels she found her rightfully chosen mate after all this time. She feels his thoughts. He truly loves her even against his learned human nature! Details didn’t matter; they’d relearn, together . . . but something went wrong. These human creatures were still mucking about the timeline . . . again.

With savage humor, Death Confetti features performance artist Jennifer Robin's autobiographical sketches of Portland, Oregon, from the grunge-era obscurity of the '90s to its current media-darling status. As an only child raised by reclusive grandparents in upstate New York, Jennifer recalls that she felt "anemic for the real." At seventeen she broke loose and made her way to the west coast. "Civilization is a nightmare-illusion," Jennifer writes, "a three-dimensional spreadsheet perpetuated by machines that hypnotize meat." In a city that's stranger than fiction, grocery-store checkers and meth-heads loom as lost gods. We're introduced to the lady tweaker "Chew Toy," who wears moon boots and sings hair metal songs all night as she collects recyclable bottles. Jennifer visits a bar where executives simulate doggie-style sex acts on the dance floor. Then there's all the tales of late-night life on the city's buses and light rail. Jennifer reflects on her early terror in Catholic school and phone calls with her far-out mother, who disclosed that her gynecologist was a murderer. In the all-too-true pages of Death Confetti, Robin remembers her life among noise musicians, junkies, and her escape from a boyfriend who insisted on reviving the lives of hundreds of deceased fruit flies. Death Confetti jolts the senses, and lingers like a mosquito bite to the Portland of everybody's soul.

Presents plays by African American playwrights, including Robert Johnson's "Trick the Devil", Marsha Jackson's "Sisters", and Nubia Kai's "Harvest the Frost"

Rethinking questions of identity, social agency and national affiliation, Bhabha provides a working, if controversial, theory of cultural hybridity - one that goes far beyond previous attempts by others. In The Location of Culture, he uses concepts such as mimicry, interstice, hybridity, and liminality to argue that cultural production is always most productive where it is most ambivalent. Speaking in a voice that combines intellectual ease with the belief that theory itself can contribute to practical political change, Bhabha has become one of the leading post-colonial theorists of this era.

First Published in 2001. Routledge is an imprint of Taylor & Francis, an informa company.