(no subject)
NO,we love war.
War. Starvation. Plague. They fast-track us to enlightenment.
We have always loved war. WE are born knowing that war is why we're here. And we love disease. Cancer. WE love earthquakes. In this amusement-park fun house we call the planet earth, we adore forest fires. Oil spills. Serial Killers.
We love terrorists. Hijackers. Dictators. Pedophiles.
God, how we love the television news. The pictures of people linning up beside a long, open grave, waiting to be shot by another new firing squad. The glossy newsmagazine photos of more everyday people torn to bloody shreds by suicide bombers. The radio buletins about freeway pile-ups. The mud slides. The sinking ships.
We love when airplanes crash.
We adore pollution. Acid rain. Global warming. Famine.
Against humanity. It's us against us. You, the victim of yourself.
We love war because it's the only way we'll finish our work here. The only way we'll finish our souls, here on earth: The big processing station. The rock tumbler. Through pain and anger and conflict, it's the only path. To what, we don't know.
Being born, it's as if you go inside a building. You lock yourself inside a building with no windows to see out. And after you're inside any building long enough, you forget how the outside looked. Without a mirror, you'd forget your own face.
Haunted
Chuck Palahniuk
War. Starvation. Plague. They fast-track us to enlightenment.
We have always loved war. WE are born knowing that war is why we're here. And we love disease. Cancer. WE love earthquakes. In this amusement-park fun house we call the planet earth, we adore forest fires. Oil spills. Serial Killers.
We love terrorists. Hijackers. Dictators. Pedophiles.
God, how we love the television news. The pictures of people linning up beside a long, open grave, waiting to be shot by another new firing squad. The glossy newsmagazine photos of more everyday people torn to bloody shreds by suicide bombers. The radio buletins about freeway pile-ups. The mud slides. The sinking ships.
We love when airplanes crash.
We adore pollution. Acid rain. Global warming. Famine.
Against humanity. It's us against us. You, the victim of yourself.
We love war because it's the only way we'll finish our work here. The only way we'll finish our souls, here on earth: The big processing station. The rock tumbler. Through pain and anger and conflict, it's the only path. To what, we don't know.
Being born, it's as if you go inside a building. You lock yourself inside a building with no windows to see out. And after you're inside any building long enough, you forget how the outside looked. Without a mirror, you'd forget your own face.
Haunted
Chuck Palahniuk