Aah, God help us, how sleazy is it, and how has it come to this? a rented palace, a denial of the passage of time, a mogul on the black-diamond slopes of the IT sector thinks he's a rock star.
You're the medium Weed and I use to communicate, that's all, this set of holes, pleasantly framed, this little femme scampering back and forth with scented messages tucked in her little secret places....
Why? Why use the room as introduction to an apologia? Because the room, though windowless and cold at night, is a hothouse. Because the room is the past, though it has no history of its own. Because,...
She may know a little, may think of herself, face and body, as ‘pretty’…but he could never tell her all the rest, how many other living things, birds, nights smelling of grass and rain, sunlit moments...
Proverbs for Paranoids:1. You may never get to touch the Master, but you can tickle his creatures.2. The innocence of the creatures is in inverse proportion to the immorality of the Master.3. If they...
Not me, paranoia's the garlic in life's kitchen, right, you can never have too much.
It's been a prevalent notion. Fallen sparks. Fragments of vessels broken at the Creation. And someday, somehow, before the end, a gathering back to home. A messenger from the Kingdom, arriving at the...
Could we have been so much in the midst of life? With such a sense of grand adventure about it all?
Chotto, Kenichiro! Dozo, motto panukeiku.
You wait. Everyone has an Antarctic.
The silences here are retreats of sound, like the retreat of the surf before a tidal wave: sound draining away, down slopes of acoustic passage, to gather, someplace else, to a great surge of noise.
The Northern powers are more like administrators, who manipulate other people’s history but produce none of their own. They are the stock-jobbers of history, lives are their units of exchange. Lives a...
She told him later that as soon as he took her wrist that night, she came. And the first time he touched her cunt, squeezed Jessica’s soft cunt through her knickers, the trembling began again high in...
She has assisted at more than one Birth, has endur'd a hard-drinking and quarrelsome troop of Men-Folk,— who is this unfamily'd man in a Frock to call her child?
For there either was some Tristero beyond the appearance of the legacy America, or there was just America, and if there was just America then it seemed the only way she could continue, and manage to b...
This generation - it's almost a religious thing now. The millennium, the end days, no need to be responsible anymore to the future. A burden has been lifted from them. The Baby Jesus is managing the p...
You see how many whips and things there are here. Our horses are very, very naughty.
They're in love. Fuck the war.
They sit there for a minute while unknown forms of life pursue recreational activities in their food.
Shall I project a world?