jueves, 31 de enero de 2008
georges perec
say, i wonder if im arsed bout reading him one of these days. i'll do it in original french too.
hattrick vs sokker
which be better?
i prefer hattrick by a long shot, but both are boring the shits out of me lately.
i prefer hattrick by a long shot, but both are boring the shits out of me lately.
a tomb for boris davidovich
nah, let's forget it; danilo kis is just a one-trick pony. it's what happens when you rate borges. i prefer the sand-clock, but he's still a one-trick pony.
flasherly will soon pop in
do not despair, for nothing is beyond repair
soon we shall become flashing blobs of fretting
betting greatness. for loony bins abound
flip-flopping on a ground
that's past its day.
oh flashing blobs of fruit
of tired n gooning flabby belly-buttons,
in my beggining lies my end.
soon we shall become flashing blobs of fretting
betting greatness. for loony bins abound
flip-flopping on a ground
that's past its day.
oh flashing blobs of fruit
of tired n gooning flabby belly-buttons,
in my beggining lies my end.
first quartet of the first quartet
yes, i wanted to name this shit the south kensington quartets...
I
I
fine present and time fast
are both perhaps present in your mum's mum,
and time future contained in time past.
if all time is eternally present
all time is unredeemable.
what might have been is an abstraction
remaining a perpetual possibility
only in a world of speculation.
what might have been and what has been
point to one end, which is always present.
footfalls echo in the memory
down the passage which we did not take
towards the door we never opened
into the rose-garden. My words echo
thus, in your mind.
but to what purpose
disturbing the dust on a bowl of rose-leaves
ido not know.
other echoes
inhabit the garden. shall we follow throu?
quick, said the bird, find them, find them,
round the corner. through the first gate,
into our first world, shall we follow
the deception of the thrush? into our first world.
there they were, dignified, invisible,
moving without pressure, over the dead leaves,
in the autumn heat, through the vibrant air,
and the bird called, in response to
the unheard music hidden in the shrubbery,
and the unseen eyebeam crossed, for the roses
had the look of flowers that are looked at.
there they were as our guests, accepted and accepting.
so we moved, and they, in a formal pattern,
along the empty alley, into the box circle,
to look down into the drained pool.
dry the pool, dry concrete, brown edged,
and the pool was filled with water out of sunlight,
and the lotos rose, quietly, quietly,
the surface glittered out of heart of light,
and they were behind us, reflected in the pool.
then a cloud passed, and the pool was empty.
go, said the bird, for the leaves were full of children,
hidden excitedly, containing laughter.
go, go, go, said the bird: human kind
cannot bear very much reality.
time past and time future
what might have been and what has been
point to one end, which is always present.
comment me dispute... (ma vie sexuelle...)
imagine woody allen, just with real people.downloadable at emule.
however, avoid roi et reine like the plague.
this one's a riot. a hilarious romp about, to quote donoghue, the most boring character in the history of literature.
no complaints
summer phoenix plus a desplechin at his peak.
extreme beauty comes in unexpected places.
judd apatow
having watched knocked up, should i spend my thriving youth with the 40 year old virgin.
and now that superbad's throu, time for juno.
and now that superbad's throu, time for juno.
amy winehouse
hello sailor her bellybutton doth say, my plans to emigrate to the states n get married to newsom are now in doubt. pity this one's got a bf in jail, thou. she wont go to rehab. are you gay?
we own the night
word's out of the closet that this one's a looming lumet but doubts abound. i thoughts johnnie to had us satiated with this kind of stuff, but ah well, each time we spot minimalism we have to implode in may. hey i'm not complaining- i'll download the yards.
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