>>8024111
It is at night, especially when the moon is gibbous and waning, that I see the thing. I've tried morphine but the drug has given only transient surcease and has drawn me into it's clutches as a hopeless slave. So now I am to end it all having written a full account for the information or contemptuous amusement of my fellow men.
I cannot think of the deep sea without shuddering at the nameless things that may at this very moment be crawling and floundering on it's slimy bed, worshiping their ancient stone idols and carving their own detestable likenesses on submarine obelisks of water-soaked granite.
I dream of theday when they may rise above the billows and drag down in their reeking talons the remnants of puny, war-exhausted mankind; of the day when the land shall sink and the dark ocean floor shall ascend amidst universal pandemonium.
The end is near.
I wrote this from memory. It's a passage from DAGON by HP Lovecraft. It sums up his whole mythos so well.
Stately, fatass Buck Mulligan came waddlin' on the stairs, big ass bowl in his hans wit shavin shit in it. A pussy ass bathrobe or sum shit was fluttrin round by the windo. Fattie picked up the bowl:
-- Blah blah some pig latin gay shit.
Then the fatass lookin down da stairs, yells again:
-- Come up bitch! Come up you pussy ass faggot!
Lardass walked to a railin. Be dancin aroun in a circle like jesus. He spies the nigga Deadlis and throws up some gang signs. Deadlis ty'yad as fuck an looks up at the fatass thinkin why da fuk dis horse-faced bitch be screamin bout jesus 8 in the morn'? It aint even ihop day
>>8024111
who is this woman and why do I want to fuck her
bamp
When I was alone I felt I had in some fashion lost my individuality; to the thrush and the rabbit I had not been Severian, but Man. The many people who like to be utterly alone, and particularly to be utterly alone in a wilderness, do so, I believe, because they enjoy playing that part. But I wanted to be a particular person again, and so I sought the mirror of other persons, which would show me that I was not as they were.
>>8024111
who is she? !
For it was now like walking among matrices of a great digital computer, the zeroes and ones twinned
above, hanging like balanced mobiles right and left, ahead, thick, maybe endless. Behind the hieroglyphic streets there would
either be a transcendent meaning, or only the earth. In the songs Miles, Dean, Serge and Leonard sang was either some
fraction of the truth's numinous beauty (as Mucho now believed) or only a power spectrum. Tremaine the Swastika
Salesman's reprieve from holocaust was either an injustice, or the absence of a wind; the bones of the GI's at the bottom of
Lake In-verarity were there either for a reason that mattered to the world, or forskin divers and cigarette smokers. Ones and
zeroes. So did the couples arrange themselves. At Vesperhaven House either an accommodation reached, in some kind of
dignity, with the Angel of Death, or only death and the daily, tedious preparations for it. Another mode of meaning behind the
obvious, or none. Either Oedipa in the orbiting ecstasy of a true paranoia, or a real Tristero. For there either wassome
Tristero beyond the appearance ofthe legacy America, or there was just America and if there was just America then it seemed
the only way she could continue, and manage to be at all relevant to it, was as an alien, unfurrowed, assumed full circle into
some paranoia.
from Crying of Lot 49
And when I feel, fair creature of an hour,
That I shall never look upon thee more,
Never have relish in the faery power
Of unreflecting love—then on the shore
Of the wide world I stand alone, and think
Till love and fame to nothingness do sink.
- When I Have Fears by John Keats
>>8024892
Wow, I remember this completely different. Shows you how a few years can really change how you read the exact same passage.
