being experimental is so tired it's probably time it's back as an ironic thing
Found text:
[last sentence of first paragraph of page 50, or first afterwards full of text, of every book on my desk at this moment, the order I pick them up; begin]
He goes about constructing this framework quite mechanically, beginning with the names of his pair of young lovers and invariably adding a third character, a servant or the like, to make mischief between them, like the chou in a comedy. That the Welshman was one letter away from bearing the name John Cage always seemed providential. What grass not yellowed? The new day for the trench warrior begins. He turned abruptly to look at her, staring blankly out of crimson-irised eyes for a moment and then saying flatly: "Certainly no Libyan hordes are thundering, no foreign chieftain scours restlessly the Campanian fields in treacherous warfare, nor is Nero cutting a canal, and making a way for squalid swamps by slicing up the mountains." It looked like the parable of a man not letting his right hand know what his left hand did. With Orciny. More than that, it is the Abode of War (dâr al-harb), the holey space of unselective hunting. "But even if you stay, other men will lay responsibilities on you. If you seek what you haven't got, then what you have is lost; if you go along with what you have, then what you want will come." He was not reliable. If I'm in my room he will summon me, or come and see me, and if I'm back in my own home he'll send a letter, or even come himself. This complex system was understood in its entirety only by Sourdust -- the technicalities demanding the devotion of a lifetime, though the sacred spirit of tradition implied by the daily manifestations was understood by all.
...I think this is the most psychologically profound courtship scene I ever 'wrote'.
Edit: Since if there's one thing I'm good at (other than ruining friendships by action and omission) it's overstaying the welcome of my ideas, here's more: [same books and order, p. 100]
And it was not, in fact, until they had all rinsed out their mouths and washed their hands that another lot of tea was served, this time for drinking. Part comradely gesture, part faux-homoerotic tease, it was destined to be repeated across the playgrounds of Britain by pubescent boys, most of whom would have run screaming from anything 'tainted' with the word 'homo'. "Go north up the T'ai-heng Mountains, how rugged, how steep!" One man's slip of the hand had got the whole titanic machinery of war rolling. He crouched warily, Stormbringer now in his grasp, the black metal quivering from point to pommel. "Or will you tread the sand of Solyma, and the captured palm-groves of Idume, who planted her fruitful orchards for a Roman conqueror?" She was herself handsome in an almost tropical fashion, with a mass of hot and heavy red hair; she was dressed in what the journalists call a daring fashion, but her face was intelligent and her eyes had that bright and rather prominent appearance which belong to the eyes of ladies who ask questions at political meetings. You could almost claim it was breach, though of course not quite. This lurking presence of aridity culminates when Sinbad the sailor meets his arid double, Sinbad the wayfarer of untrodden deserts and the porter of shipwrecks buried under the sand. But his wife raised difficulties: "Straightness of action means to stand upright unshakably, to remain pure and unstained, to keep self-control when in straits, and to refrain from self-indulgence when successful. Old man, I'm about out of patience with you..." The others who'd arrived with him were all highly amused too. He was surrounded by lakes of fading daylight.
It's like Lolita but all obliquely group-sexual! 8D
i need an aspirin now
chug glug glug
[last sentence of first paragraph of page 50, or first afterwards full of text, of every book on my desk at this moment, the order I pick them up; begin]
He goes about constructing this framework quite mechanically, beginning with the names of his pair of young lovers and invariably adding a third character, a servant or the like, to make mischief between them, like the chou in a comedy. That the Welshman was one letter away from bearing the name John Cage always seemed providential. What grass not yellowed? The new day for the trench warrior begins. He turned abruptly to look at her, staring blankly out of crimson-irised eyes for a moment and then saying flatly: "Certainly no Libyan hordes are thundering, no foreign chieftain scours restlessly the Campanian fields in treacherous warfare, nor is Nero cutting a canal, and making a way for squalid swamps by slicing up the mountains." It looked like the parable of a man not letting his right hand know what his left hand did. With Orciny. More than that, it is the Abode of War (dâr al-harb), the holey space of unselective hunting. "But even if you stay, other men will lay responsibilities on you. If you seek what you haven't got, then what you have is lost; if you go along with what you have, then what you want will come." He was not reliable. If I'm in my room he will summon me, or come and see me, and if I'm back in my own home he'll send a letter, or even come himself. This complex system was understood in its entirety only by Sourdust -- the technicalities demanding the devotion of a lifetime, though the sacred spirit of tradition implied by the daily manifestations was understood by all.
...I think this is the most psychologically profound courtship scene I ever 'wrote'.
Edit: Since if there's one thing I'm good at (other than ruining friendships by action and omission) it's overstaying the welcome of my ideas, here's more: [same books and order, p. 100]
And it was not, in fact, until they had all rinsed out their mouths and washed their hands that another lot of tea was served, this time for drinking. Part comradely gesture, part faux-homoerotic tease, it was destined to be repeated across the playgrounds of Britain by pubescent boys, most of whom would have run screaming from anything 'tainted' with the word 'homo'. "Go north up the T'ai-heng Mountains, how rugged, how steep!" One man's slip of the hand had got the whole titanic machinery of war rolling. He crouched warily, Stormbringer now in his grasp, the black metal quivering from point to pommel. "Or will you tread the sand of Solyma, and the captured palm-groves of Idume, who planted her fruitful orchards for a Roman conqueror?" She was herself handsome in an almost tropical fashion, with a mass of hot and heavy red hair; she was dressed in what the journalists call a daring fashion, but her face was intelligent and her eyes had that bright and rather prominent appearance which belong to the eyes of ladies who ask questions at political meetings. You could almost claim it was breach, though of course not quite. This lurking presence of aridity culminates when Sinbad the sailor meets his arid double, Sinbad the wayfarer of untrodden deserts and the porter of shipwrecks buried under the sand. But his wife raised difficulties: "Straightness of action means to stand upright unshakably, to remain pure and unstained, to keep self-control when in straits, and to refrain from self-indulgence when successful. Old man, I'm about out of patience with you..." The others who'd arrived with him were all highly amused too. He was surrounded by lakes of fading daylight.
It's like Lolita but all obliquely group-sexual! 8D
i need an aspirin now
chug glug glug