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innashpitzberg11 мая 2013 г.One night he set fire to twenty pages of calculations. Integral signs weaved like charmed cobras, comical curly ds marched along like hunchbacks through the fire-edge into billows of lace ash. But that was his only relapse.
12260- innashpitzberg11 мая 2013 г.
It took the Dreyfus Affair to get the Zionists out and doing, finally: what will drive you out of your soup-kettle? Has it already happened? Was it tonight's attack and deliverance? Will you go to the Heath, and begin your settlement, and wait there for your Director to come?
12230 - innashpitzberg11 мая 2013 г.
For this crew, nostalgia is like seasickness: only the hope of dying from it is keeping them alive.
12206 - innashpitzberg10 мая 2013 г.
There is nearly complete parallelism between analgesia and addiction. The more pain it takes away, the more we desire it. It appears we can't have one property without the other, any more than a particle physicist can specify position without suffering an uncertainty as to the particle's velocity—
12201 - innashpitzberg4 мая 2013 г.
Paranoids are not paranoids (Proverb 5) because they're paranoid, but because they keep putting themselves, fucking idiots, deliberately into paranoid situations.
12202 - innashpitzberg29 апреля 2013 г.
"Why are you burning my doll's hair?"
"Well, it's not her own hair, you know."
"Father said it belonged to a Russian Jewess."12200 - innashpitzberg29 апреля 2013 г.
Who could have guessed there'd be real black rocket troops? That a story made up to scare last year's enemy should prove to be literally true—and no way now to stuff them back in the bottle or even say the spell backward: no one ever knew the complete spell—different people knew different parts of it, that's what teamwork is. . . .
1278 - innashpitzberg29 апреля 2013 г.
"Yeah well," as film critic Mitchell Prettyplace puts it in his definitive 18-volume study of King Kong, "you know, he did love her, folks."
1284 - innashpitzberg27 апреля 2013 г.Читать далее
He finds that he has drifted as far as the Odeon, one of the great world cafes, whose specialty is not listed anywhere—indeed has never been pinned down. Lenin, Trotsky, James Joyce, Dr. Einstein all sat out at these tables. Whatever it was they all had in common: whatever they'd come to this vantage to score . . . perhaps it had to do with the people somehow, with pedestrian mortality, restless crisscrossing of needs or desperations in one fateful piece of street. . . dialectics, matrices, archetypes all need to connect, once in a while, back to some of that proletarian blood, to body odors and senseless screaming across a table, to cheating and last hopes, or else all is dusty Dracularity, the West's ancient curse. . . .
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