(`. I... I have become... Carnographically Numb .`)
A desktop for SilenceNoir in return for the wonderful one she did of me
Reading a short piece of fiction by cult-splatterpunk Poppy Z. Brite on the way home tonight (His Mouth Will Taste of Wormwood in the short-story anthology based on the works of cosmic-horror writer HP Lovecraft, Cthulhu 2000) I nodded slowly at something I had been aware of for some time now: debauched fiction is dead.
I had not taken seriously Louiss talk of making love in a charnel housebut neither had I reckoned on the pleasure he could inflict with a femur dipped in rose-scented oil.
The mind boggles. Or rather it should. But it doesnt.
Now as much as I like and respect Poppys work, I have to say this tale was was exhausted. The kind of exhaustion that is accompanied by pain. Nothing sharp and stabbing, something more like a dull ache in the balls.
Im not knocking the author or her carnographically beguiling styleindeed, with this tale she is imitating H.P.L. and there a certain amount of spoof is the order-of-the-day, but Im coming to the opinion that this sort of revulsion-factor isnt working any more
In even in the most debauched individuals, all it raises is a smile. Is it becoming a parody of itself? Much like punk or worse still gOth!! Then again, wasnt it always the case with goth? I mean, 80s goth always was the height of pretension, bless it (and me)!! P.S. I have NOTHING DO DO WITH THAT AWFUL SITEI picked it because I couldnt ask for a more perfect pretentious example!!
Poppy Z. Brite Quiz - Which Lost Souls Character Are You?
Me? I'm .........
O~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~o
o~ How to Navigate My Journal ~o
o~ Join SuicideGirls!! ~o
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A desktop for SilenceNoir in return for the wonderful one she did of me
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Reading a short piece of fiction by cult-splatterpunk Poppy Z. Brite on the way home tonight (His Mouth Will Taste of Wormwood in the short-story anthology based on the works of cosmic-horror writer HP Lovecraft, Cthulhu 2000) I nodded slowly at something I had been aware of for some time now: debauched fiction is dead.
I had not taken seriously Louiss talk of making love in a charnel housebut neither had I reckoned on the pleasure he could inflict with a femur dipped in rose-scented oil.
The mind boggles. Or rather it should. But it doesnt.
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Now as much as I like and respect Poppys work, I have to say this tale was was exhausted. The kind of exhaustion that is accompanied by pain. Nothing sharp and stabbing, something more like a dull ache in the balls.
Im not knocking the author or her carnographically beguiling styleindeed, with this tale she is imitating H.P.L. and there a certain amount of spoof is the order-of-the-day, but Im coming to the opinion that this sort of revulsion-factor isnt working any more
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Poppy Z. Brite Quiz - Which Lost Souls Character Are You?
Me? I'm .........
O~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~o
o~ How to Navigate My Journal ~o
o~ Join SuicideGirls!! ~o
VIEW 8 of 8 COMMENTS
Wait, I took this quiz, does this make my hand automatically adhere to my forehead? Damn it... I guess the truth comes out.
Um if this didn't come out... It's supposed to say...
NOTHING
[Edited on Dec 21, 2004 9:43AM]