четверг, апреля 20, 2006

L'air du temps

Toutes les paroles prononcées peuvent être expliquées, décortiquées par des esprits si différents qu’elles en deviennent irréelles, l’image provoquée par celle-ci imprimera son lot d’horreur chez untel et provoquera le fou rire chez un autre, quand une personne me dépasse dans la rue, je sens son âme vibrante qui se répercute dans les branches nues des arbres, c’est un peu comme ça que l’air du temps nous consigne des idées dominantes de fornication.

среда, апреля 12, 2006

Mingling with the Masses (Intro)

The innate feeling of competition that exists among we more humanish people is, to say the least, strange and compelling. At which point does one make the transition from sloshing around the milk and honey with John Citizen from next door, to smashing the poor fucker’s skull in with a shovel, that one may thrive on the nutrients contained therein? I should like to say that I, having neither smashed in skulls nor gorged myself on human cerebelli (nor, if it comes to that, made a name for myself as a man who is generous with his milk and honey), do not know. Yet I do know that some speck of this terrible urge lies dormant within my chromosomes or DNA or wherever it is that primal things lurk. At some point in my existence, it is certainly possible I shall covet my neighbour’s life. And I think I would not be accused of being terribly confused were I to say that this notion of us all having a brain-eatingly life-affirming competitive spirit is both worrying and re-assuring. Worrying, insofar as John Citizen from next door, by force of nature’s own design, is doubtless making estimates on the size of my noggin and clearing a space in his freezer; re-assuring, insofar as I’ll be damned if I don’t get him first.