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"And the voices before and after the dead man's that had phoned at random during the darkest, slowest hours, searching ceaseless among the dial's ten million possibilities for that magical Other who would reveal herself out of the roar of relays, monotone litanies of insult, filth, fantasy, love whose brute repetition must someday call into being the trigger for the unnamable act, the recognition, the Word."-- Thomas Pynchon, The crying of lot 49 I remember reading that and feeling like someone had just struck my head like a brass bell, my ears were buzzing, as if this specific word cocktail had made my skull vibrate in tune to something I instinctly understood, but couldn't explain. edit: Same with these two lines from t s elliot: "I should have been a pair of ragged claws Scuttling across the floors of silent seas." prinneh fucked around with this message at 20:29 on Oct 27, 2015 |
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Oct 27, 2015 18:34
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| # ¿ May 21, 2024 10:29 |
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