Last night a DJ didn't save my lifeSimilar to: Boy Robot, Frank Bretschneider
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"What does this place stand for?" is a question that can and should be asked of any place.
- Are you gonna go straight back to bed?
The darkness does not lift but becomes yet heavier as I think how little we can hold in mind, how everything is constantly lapsing into oblivion with every extinguished life, how the world is, as it were, draining itself...
Part1 Part2
Never before have individual histories been so explicitly affected by collective history, but never before, either, have the reference points for collective identification been so unstable.
I rode and am riding on an ocean of violent lights, I watched and am watching a cold dead sun rise then explode, I swallowed and am swallowing the river Ganges.
We were excited about getting jobs; we hardly went anywhere without filling out an application. But once we were hired we could not believe this was really what people did all day. Everything we had thought of as The World was actually the result of someone's job. Everyone had rotting carpet and a door to pay for. Aghast, we quit. There had to be a more dignified way to live.
I scorned it in its early stages. For when I was still young, I could put up with hardships and show a bold front to illness. But I finally succumbed, and arrived at such a state that I could do nothing but snuffle, reduced as I was to the extremity of thinness.
All I could feel were the cymbals the sun was clashing against my forehead, and, indistinctly, the dazzling spear still leaping up off the knife in front of me. It was like a red hot blade gnawing at my eyelashes and gouging out my stinging eyes. That was when everything shook. The sea swept ashore a great breath of fire.