…The moon, dwindled and thinned to the fringe ׀ of a finger-nail held to the candle… …Or paring of paradisaïcal fruit, ׀ lovely in waning but lustreless… …Stepped from the stool, drew back from the barrow… …a fluke yet fanged him, ׀ entangled him, not quit utterly… …Parted me leaf and leaf, divided me, ׀ eyelid and eyelid of...
so its definitely the flu. i just read this: The curtain undulated. With the opium inhaled from a makeshift porcelain-and-bamboo pipe crafted laboriously by Selz, it wasn’t long before the town, seen through the curtain, became a film of moving tissue, wrapping itself around Selz and Benjamin and at the same time unwrapping Ibiza, “We are curtainologists,” added Benjamin, to...
But in France [women] seem more part of the centre of the culture, more accepted...– Journal, Day 1
Sneeze and Punishment
The philosophy of the sneeze can be said to have begun with Aristotle, who in the History of Animals wrote that “sneezing is the only sort of breath that has divinatory significance and is supernatural.”6 - Aaron Schuster
“For example, Roger Caillois on animal mimicry. The insect becomes the double of its background. The moth’s wings imitate shriveled leaves. The caterpillar’s body is indistinguishable from arching twigs. The praying mantis fashions itself as so many emerald blades of grass. Entomological wisdom calls this phenomenon protective coloration. The prey is in hiding, having acted in...
In Conversations with Ogotemmeli by Mercel Griaule, Ogotemmeli looked on the gift of speech as analogous to weaving since the tongue and teeth were a warp and woof on which the breath could serve as thread - pg 54, Norman Mailer’s The Fight
A liquid moving through this pose, spit landing over negative space. Tasted a bit the way sweetgrass smells. A hot sensation across her invisible chest. Like the white lilly oil in the tiny glass bottle I bought in Chinatown. And rather than emanating from the surface in, the heat moved inward out radiating from bones like collar bones awakening the metal armature from its stiff and sleepy...
The gun glints in his eyes a remote mineral calm. - Burroughs, p13, The Wild Boys