(no subject)
NOTES FROM A WORK EVER IN PROGRESS
Ideas are unruly bastards, and sometimes when one strikes you, its best not to try to exert too much control, just let the fucker ride out for a while. Eventually, you start to gain a sense of it contours and rhythms and then you can recognize where its trying to go. I was looking through a story that I've been working on, draft after draft, for a couple of years. It's been kicking my ass for pretty much the duration of that period, and I believed that I had put it aside for good, until a new angle occurred to me. So I am back at it again.
I was giving it a reread and picking out a couple of sentences and fragments that I wanted to remember or that served as markers or metronomes in the vast mess of the piece. Isolated from the body of the piece, I think they form a weird, kind of cool thing of their own, and I thought I would share:
A place abhorrent to god and devil both, and indeed a horror beyond which either could devise
acts of men speak to no deeper principle than will itself.
(Forever is man possessed by the force of history, yet acts of men speak to no deeper principle than the will of the act itself.)
Before I even knew his name I sensed his inevitability.
(and before his name I sensed his inevitability)
You wouldnt think something so small could scream like that.
Distilled. Crystal. Innocent.
and the faces they made I never wanted to make faces like that
It is by degrees of loss that the game is unfolded.
this wraith of the blood-path, lust of cages
a whisper in the fire.
I can say only this: his dream in the anaconda's dream, who sizes himself against the world by measure of what he swallows
How lonely to be nothing, nothing but a voice.
You would never believe somewhere a war was on.
We persevered.
By its audacity it will sear the world in its own image.
Kill the men. Kill the women. Kill the sows. Sew the crops with salt.
true as truth endures; true as brother and brother are
Numb fire.
weird crones
an ancient nightmare of the earth.
the fundamental moral movement has already occurred and been absolved and I am exonerated, let history show it so.
(the moral gesture is already occurred and absolved and I am exonerated, let history show it so)
Ideas are unruly bastards, and sometimes when one strikes you, its best not to try to exert too much control, just let the fucker ride out for a while. Eventually, you start to gain a sense of it contours and rhythms and then you can recognize where its trying to go. I was looking through a story that I've been working on, draft after draft, for a couple of years. It's been kicking my ass for pretty much the duration of that period, and I believed that I had put it aside for good, until a new angle occurred to me. So I am back at it again.
I was giving it a reread and picking out a couple of sentences and fragments that I wanted to remember or that served as markers or metronomes in the vast mess of the piece. Isolated from the body of the piece, I think they form a weird, kind of cool thing of their own, and I thought I would share:
A place abhorrent to god and devil both, and indeed a horror beyond which either could devise
acts of men speak to no deeper principle than will itself.
(Forever is man possessed by the force of history, yet acts of men speak to no deeper principle than the will of the act itself.)
Before I even knew his name I sensed his inevitability.
(and before his name I sensed his inevitability)
You wouldnt think something so small could scream like that.
Distilled. Crystal. Innocent.
and the faces they made I never wanted to make faces like that
It is by degrees of loss that the game is unfolded.
this wraith of the blood-path, lust of cages
a whisper in the fire.
I can say only this: his dream in the anaconda's dream, who sizes himself against the world by measure of what he swallows
How lonely to be nothing, nothing but a voice.
You would never believe somewhere a war was on.
We persevered.
By its audacity it will sear the world in its own image.
Kill the men. Kill the women. Kill the sows. Sew the crops with salt.
true as truth endures; true as brother and brother are
Numb fire.
weird crones
an ancient nightmare of the earth.
the fundamental moral movement has already occurred and been absolved and I am exonerated, let history show it so.
(the moral gesture is already occurred and absolved and I am exonerated, let history show it so)