"Tell them I said something important. You're supposed to say something important when you die." Last Words of Poncho Villa
"Behind the intials was a metaphor, a delirium tremens, a trembling unfurrowing of the mind's plowshare. The saint whose water can light lamps, the clairovoyant whose lapse in recall is the breath of God, the true paranoid for whom all is organized in spheres joyful or threatening about the central pulse of himself, the dreamer whose puns probe ancient fetid shafts and tunnels of truth all act in the same special relevance to the word, or whatever it is the word is there, buffering, to protect us from." Pynchon, The Crying of Lot 49
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3 Comments:
Grats to your wife! I couldn't post on her blog for some reason. Apparently it doesn't accept google accounts.
Thanks, mopfog. Blogharbor only accepts blogharbor accounts. They're kind of racist that way.
You know, I have had some days like that. Time seems to stand still. Take a shower, have a cup of coffee, and Lo! It's still 9:11 am. I relate, and the way the piece was written was perfectly descriptive of such a moment/day.
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