It's late and I should REALLY be asleep now but I'm not and I'm reading and I feel all excited and retarded like in high school, the way I read voraciosuly -- there was so much to discover (Artaud! Bataille! Burroughs! Genet! Acker! Lautreamont! Jarry! E-T-C!)
In fact now I'm digging Lautreamont -- it so perectly suits the addled, adolescent mind, as do all things gothic and overly self-referential/ reverential:
"Each morning as the sun rises for others, I stare fixedly at space (full of shadows); I am crouched near the back of my beloved cave, in a despair as intoxicant as wine, and with my strong hands tear my breast to tatters. Yet I do not feel stricken with rage. As a condemned man reflecting on his fate, my eyes shut, I turn my neck slowly, left to right, right to left, for hours on end... I see nothing, nothing except for the fields in a whirling dance with the trees and birds traversing the air. That disturbs my blood and brain, blows on my head with an iron bar, like a hammer hitting an anvil."
Dammm, that bitch could WRITE.
So -- What did you read a lot of in high school?
In fact now I'm digging Lautreamont -- it so perectly suits the addled, adolescent mind, as do all things gothic and overly self-referential/ reverential:
"Each morning as the sun rises for others, I stare fixedly at space (full of shadows); I am crouched near the back of my beloved cave, in a despair as intoxicant as wine, and with my strong hands tear my breast to tatters. Yet I do not feel stricken with rage. As a condemned man reflecting on his fate, my eyes shut, I turn my neck slowly, left to right, right to left, for hours on end... I see nothing, nothing except for the fields in a whirling dance with the trees and birds traversing the air. That disturbs my blood and brain, blows on my head with an iron bar, like a hammer hitting an anvil."
Dammm, that bitch could WRITE.
So -- What did you read a lot of in high school?
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Poe. Kerouac. St. Vincent Millay. tons more! mmm mmm you are making me nostalgic.