You will now read my story. My story will help you and guide you into Cairo. Every time you read my pages, with every word and every phrase
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You will now read my story. My story will help you and guide you into Cairo. Every time you read my pages, with every word and every phrase, you will enter a still deeper layer, open and relaxed and receptive. I shall now count from one to ten. On the count of ten, you will be in Cairo. I say: ONE As you focus your attention entirely on my tale, you will slowly begin to relax. TWO As you consider your role in this tale, your identity as a spy, your body and your mind become warmer, sleepier. THREE The sleepiness becomes a dreaminess. The dreaminess becomes a dream. The dream becomes a story. The story becomes many stories. Are you in these stories? Are you the protagonist? Who is the storyteller? FOUR Who are the characters in this story? Are they spies like you? Are they friends and lovers, are they enemies and conspirators? Their identities are beginning to blur. My stories are beginning to blur. FIVE The blurriness is spreading to the whole of your body, your memories, your reality. What is the waking world and what is the dreaming world? What is this place called Cairo? What is there? On the count of six, I want you to go deeper. I say: SIX You are bleeding now, from your face, from your mind. This is the sleeping sickness, the Arabian Nightmare. Your body is beginning to sink. SEVEN You go deeper and deeper and deeper, you sink into this dream within dreams. Are you lost in this story? EIGHT I am the storyteller and I am dead. Who is telling this story? Perhaps you are now the storyteller. Who are these characters around you? Perhaps they are projections of your own self, splintered and separated. What is this sick dreaming, this dreaming sickness? Perhaps the dream is your reality. With every breath you take, you go deeper into this dream reality, into your sickness. NINE You are dreaming you are awake. You are bleeding your self. You go deeper into these stories, into the Arabian Nightmare. On the mental count of ten, you will be in Cairo. Be there at ten. I say: TEN
the generation ship travels through the vacuum of space, year after year, century after after century, it hurtles on and on and on NON-STOP, where andthe generation ship travels through the vacuum of space, year after year, century after after century, it hurtles on and on and on NON-STOP, where and when will this journey end, and what is this journey even for? the flora is monstrous, these plants have gone wild and turned the ship to jungle, these hydroponics creep and crawl in the artificial light of the ship's halls and chambers, the plants grow and grow and grow NON-STOP. the tribes live their little lives and make their little wars upon each other, kidnapping each other's women, killing each other's men, they move and move and move NON-STOP, but they are moving in place, they are living backwards, the backward little things. one tribe lives forward, trying to better their society, trying to evolve, trying to understand why it has to be this way, why why why must it all be NON-STOP. our hero Caution is a malcontent, his body always primed to fight and his tongue always ready to lash, he hurtles forward and he grows and he moves and he wonders why and his mind is always buzzing and buzzing and buzzing NON-STOP, the dizzy little thing. the author Brian Aldiss wrote the edgiest of science fiction, always trying out new ideas, his story rushes forward like his hero, his prose is pulpy his ideas are deep his pacing is breathless his characters pop, his book is bursting with secrets, his mind is always thinking of new things new twists new ways to write, he throws it all at the reader NON-STOP!...more
the book is a wall of sound a wall of words it took me over two months to read it, unheard of for me. you open the book you go to a chapter you read the chapter you fall into a black hole it takes forever to read it is a timeless experience you come out of the chapter and you wonder, where has all the time gone? gone... gone... gone... the book is an echo chamber of ideas but each echo comes back louder louder LOUDER and then the idea is discarded. BOOMon to the next one! or maybe not discarded, maybe looked at from another angle all kinds of angles looking look looked let's look at that idea from behind a one-way mirror, the idea doesn't know you're looking at it, keep looking you sneaky horny thing, your breathing gets shallow and rapid, maybe the idea will undress. or maybe the idea will become something different, transformed. transubstantiated? transcendentalized? transmogrified? the ideas are still there, just turned into new ideas, one shape into another, at dizzying speed, the book is dizzying, I'm getting a headache, my vision is blurring and so are the pages, my mind it hurts. the book is layered with ideas like a room stacked full of pillows, some comfy some not, each pillow is an idea, some soft some hard, just throw yourself into the pillow room, into Ratner's Star, have fun with it, it's pain-free after that first time. "Ideas" are like words, their meanings "change" over time, now is as good a time as any, as ever, what is "time" anyway, let's switch things up! I like talking like this so I will, just listen.
"But when he put quotes around words for commonplace objects, the effect was unsettling. He wasn't simply isolating an object from its name, he seemed to be trying to empty an entire system of meaning."
the boy is a genius he is a boy genius, a wunderkind, a Nobel prize winner, his skills with maths is amazings. he is not a curious boy but he is a horny boy like all boys well I suppose he is curious about things that make him horny so he is not completely not-curious. he is here to solve a mystery the aliens have communicated with earth but what is it they are saying and are they even aliens. the first two-thirds of the book is set above ground on a campus for scientists trying to solve this puzzle there are so many characters all buzzing around the boy it is a beehive he is a drone, a horny barely curious drone with a mystery to solve. in the last third of the book he moves underground he and his mentor and a sexy author and four other characters and suddenly the book feels much smaller but the ideas remain big and flexible and ever-changing and the perspectives suddenly shift, it's not just the boy it's all of them, these underground folk, their perspectives blur into each other fade into each other dissolve into each other, sometimes in the same long paragraph, he thought this and she thought that and the reader is like What? I thought I was reading him? but now I'm reading her? and who is having sex with her, the mentor or the boy? the mentor comes out from underground and then he goes into another hole in the ground, he crawls into a hole that he has dug in that hole in the ground, just like the other mentor. ah the fate of all such mentors to all such boys. also living underground was an Asian scientist specializing in bat guano, a Dr. Wu, I liked this scientist not just because he's Asian but because he thought he was going to die and he didn't, he reminded me of me, I root for bat-loving Asian scientists who think they are going to die but don't. "Words" are like people, both die, but do they really, I mean really for "real" in reality, like if you repeat a word enough times, it loses "meaning" and it dies like a person? I don't like listening to that so I won't, just stop talking.
what’s good, squad? the latest mutations from Dicktopia were straight up insane! Dick was on conceptual fire, dishing out two sick new evolutionary dewhat’s good, squad? the latest mutations from Dicktopia were straight up insane! Dick was on conceptual fire, dishing out two sick new evolutionary dead ends: the psychic Unusuals and the brainiac New Men. they rule a brave new world full of Undermen like you and me, all of us with nothing to do except watch tv, take our tests, take our pills, punch the clock, follow the orders of New Men & Unusuals... and wait for the people to rise up! no cap, the regime change will be lit, especially when the CEO of This Ain't It returns from Frolix 8 with a dank alien who will totally run the table. fam, it's time for us all to glo up and finally take that W!
I wanted this book to be off the chain but it turned out to be mid. concepts were good but I was shook when I realized that the book wouldn't hit different. too much cringe in the first third, too much yadda yadda in the middle third, but finally the revolution came to slay. and folx, it was savage. all those out of pocket New Men and extra Unusuals may have brought the drama but they just weren't ready to catch hands. they can take several seats. ...more
the camera movements of the mind take it in but not all at once, a shot here, a shot there, swing left swing right, zoom in zoom out, cut. edit. try tthe camera movements of the mind take it in but not all at once, a shot here, a shot there, swing left swing right, zoom in zoom out, cut. edit. try to put it all together as a narrative, as something that makes sense, some kind of sense, any kind of sense but nonsense; but there is no sense, all of the senses may be working overtime, one two three four five, but nothing is making sense, sense has stopped making sense. in this nice house on the lake.
the fragmentation the fragmentation, alas! 'tis the human conundrum! 'tis how the alien in this nice house on the lake thinks and perceives reality, 'tis why the humans in this nice house on the lack construct their own experiences, their own lives, their own selves. they fragment and they try to put back together, they try to create linearity.
the intersections of structure, the intersections of body and mind and time and place and space both outer and inner... they trap these guests in this nice house on the lake. will there be an escape possible, in the secret places in this superstructure, in its shadowy spaces, its angles and substructures? they can only hope, these permanent residents of this nice house on the lake.
all abstractions, all generalizations, treat words and images and people and thoughts as units existing in some matrix of comparison. the doctor, the pianist, the politico, the artist(s), etc. et al, all the participants in this study taking place in a nice house on the lake... all treat the story as substance. all treat their own selves as having some substance, a genuine identity, rather than a label or title to be fulfilled. all attempt to communicate. all fail. their last communication, for now, for when, is a bullet. it fails. but that was the plan all along, to fail. to fail is to keep living?
I liked this sequel, it worked for me.
❦
read this amazing essay "Fragmentation of the Self" that has nothing to do with a nice house on a lake, but I stole some phrases and ideas from it anyway:
into the past, into the darkness. it was a sweet home back then, as sweet a home as slavery could have allowed, a refuge surrounded by cancer. but thainto the past, into the darkness. it was a sweet home back then, as sweet a home as slavery could have allowed, a refuge surrounded by cancer. but that cancer is no benign tumor, to be kept at arm's length, condescended to; it is malignant, always. it will invade, kill the body, each of the parts dying one by one. out of the past and into the present came the cancer, and it made itself a new home. a cancer is not so easily removed, even if the doctors say: the surgery was successful, it was cut out, it is officially no more! it changes shape, it metastasizes into something different. it reconstructs itself. Morrison knows this, so do Sethe and Paul D; it will take generations to cure this sickness.
a child dies, a child is reborn: Beloved. she is the fog of memory, of regret, of violence, made solid, no longer a recollection or abstraction, come from the past to destroy the present. she is what happens when the body and mind are broken down: a symptom of the cancer, not the cancer itself. she will hurt the worst those who love her the most...
the story has no storyline, the movements of past and present overlap, combine, become one. the stories and memories bleed into each other, in the mind and in the flesh, the blood flows in all directions. a tree of scars, a longing for colors, all the tragedies still alive. what was then what was now, what will be, what can be. can the body survive this cancer? one can only hope, or pray. the last few pages of Beloved hint at survival, at a new life, new paths, new hopes. perhaps the prayers have worked? keep praying....more
shapeshifting little boy and his morbid, chain-smoking grandmother mount a vicious and deadly campaign against a group of feminist wiccans who only washapeshifting little boy and his morbid, chain-smoking grandmother mount a vicious and deadly campaign against a group of feminist wiccans who only want to rid the world of toxic pests. this was a tough read, emotional and grueling. Dahl clearly empathizes with the spiritualists - who function more like a kind of pagan PTA than anything remotely threatening - and the many disabilities that plague these brave and independent ladies. hair loss and baldness, challenges with the digits of both hands and feet, not to mention the existential trauma of being empowered women in a misogynist, ableist world that constantly favors and rewards young, able-bodied, privileged males and the females who enable them. I really appreciated Dahl's focus on the head wiccan - an admirable leader, a superior organizer, and even a talented singer/songwriter. reading what happens to her, and to the rest of her peers, at the hands of the story's two villains was exceedingly painful. but that's life, right? life is cruel to outsiders and I admire the author for taking such a realistic view of their terrible sufferings. people, let's do the work and learn to do better!...more
REVIEW(S) BY CHATGPT with illustrations by AI Image & DALL-E prompts in italics
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DALL-E: Kristin Cashore's heroine Fire, macro 35mm, 90s grunge
REVIEW(S) BY CHATGPT with illustrations by AI Image & DALL-E prompts in italics
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AI Image: Fire via Botticelli, using Marilyn Monroe as a model
ChatGPT: write a review of Fire by Kristin Cashore in the style of the Goodreads reviewer mark monday, per the following reviews.
Fire by Kristin Cashore is a masterful work of fantasy fiction that delves deep into the psyche of its protagonist, a young woman gifted with extraordinary mental powers. The world-building in this book is simply phenomenal, with every detail meticulously crafted to create a fully-realized and immersive setting that will leave readers breathless.
The characters in Fire are similarly well-drawn and complex, with their motivations and desires driving the plot forward in surprising and unexpected ways. The titular character is especially fascinating, with her inner turmoil and struggle for self-acceptance serving as a powerful metaphor for the human capacity for both good and evil.
Cashore's prose is elegant and lyrical, effortlessly transporting readers to a world that is at once familiar and alien. Though there are moments of violence and tragedy in Fire, the overall tone of the book is one of hope and resilience, making it a truly uplifting and inspiring read.
DALL-E: photo-realistic digital art + nebula
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a review of Fire, written by the protagonist:
I am Fire, and I have never felt more alive than when I read Kristin Cashore's book about my own adventures. The author truly captured my essence as a monster and as a young woman struggling to find her place in the world.
The story follows my journey as a human monster born with the ability to manipulate minds and control others with my thoughts. Despite my extraordinary powers, I am also plagued with intense feelings of loneliness and insecurity, always feeling like an outcast among humans and monsters alike. As the story unfolds, I am thrust into a dangerous world of political intrigue, betrayal, and war. At first, I am hesitant to embrace my role as a warrior and leader, but eventually, I come to understand the importance of fighting for what I believe in and protecting those I love.
What I appreciate most about this book is how accurately it portrays my complex emotions and struggles. Cashore does an excellent job of showing how difficult it can be to navigate the sometimes murky waters of morality and self-discovery.
DALL-E: anime style, using the poster of Baise-moi as a model
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a review by the villain Leck:
I've read this book called Fire and I must say, it was fascinating. Kristin Cashore did an excellent job of portraying my kingdom and the world I created. The plot was engaging and twisted, just how I like stories to be.
The protagonist, Fire, was a captivating character. She possessed immense power, which always intrigues me, and her journey through the story was a delight to watch. However, I could not help but notice her flaws. Her empathy and kindness towards others were quite a problem for me.
The way Cashore portrayed Fire's ability to sense thoughts and emotions was intriguing. It made me wonder how different things would have been for my own kingdom if I too had such powers at my disposal. With that kind of ability, I could manipulate people's minds and rule with ease.
Overall, the book was an excellent read, but it made me realize that my world, my kingdom, was far more superior. If only the author had delved into my life and my story, maybe she would have found a better narrative. Nevertheless, I applaud Cashore's effort in creating such a vivid and interesting world in Fire.
oh, fire! how lovely you do glow in this world so cold and dire
your curves and colors so bright a sight that fills me with delight
but alas, society does not see the beauty that lies within thee
they judge you by your outward form ignoring the strength and warmth you perform
oh, fire! how unfair it seems to be the struggle women face for society's beauty
but fear not, dear flame for your beauty cannot be tamed
it shines from within and out a beauty that cannot be cast out
so let us celebrate your radiance and embrace the beauty within our own essence
oh, fire! you are a reminder of the beauty that lies within us all even in a world so dark and cruel.
DALL-E: digital art + portal to another dimension
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...a review that focuses on the dangers of beauty, attraction, and mind control:
Fire by Kristin Cashore takes place in a fantastical world that mirrors our own in its obsession with physical appearance and power. The main protagonist, named Fire, possesses an extraordinary beauty that causes people to become uncontrollably drawn to her. Though this may seem like a blessing, it proves to be nothing short of a curse as she's repeatedly targeted for her unique ability. Her beauty is also used as a weapon against her, with some individuals seeking to manipulate and control her.
The novel highlights the insidious nature of attraction and its ability to cloud people's judgment, leading them down dangerous paths. Characters are shown to be driven to acts of madness or violence because of their passions, highlighting how passion can be a destructive force if left unchecked.
In addition to the dangers of attraction, Fire also explores the theme of mind control. The story shows how powerful individuals can use their abilities to control others, manipulating them into doing their bidding. This highlights the inherent danger of giving too much power to one person or group and the potential for that power to corrupt.
Overall, Fire provides a cautionary tale about the dangers lurking beneath the surface of attraction and power. It offers a sobering reminder of the importance of self-control and the need to be aware of the influence others can have over us.
AI Image: in a style combining pointillism and Vermeer
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a review written by the empiricist George Berkeley:
The book revolves around the life of Fire, the last remaining human monster in a world full of magical creatures. What I find fascinating about this novel is how Cashore emphasizes the concept of perception and how it shapes our understanding of reality. For me, the novel is a perfect embodiment of my idea that "to be is to be perceived."
The novel also explores the idea of how our perceptions can be manipulated, and how this can shape our reality. Cashore does an excellent job of showcasing how the characters' perception of Fire shapes their treatment of her, and how this, in turn, affects Fire's own perception of herself.
Fire, Kristin Cashore's sophomore novel, is a bewitching tale of a girl with the power to control minds. Set in a land of sweeping landscapes and intricate politics, the author weaves a mesmerizing narrative of love, sacrifice, and redemption.
Fire is a study in the complexities of human relationships. The eponymous protagonist, a "monster" with the ability to manipulate thoughts and emotions, struggles to come to terms with her place in the world. Her journey is fraught with danger and betrayal, but all the while she stays true to herself and her principles.
In many ways, this novel stands as a companion piece to Cashore's debut Graceling, exploring similar themes of identity, self-discovery, and the struggle to find one's place in the world. However, Fire is a work that stands on its own, a haunting portrait of a young woman coming into her own and searching for love and acceptance in a world that fears and misunderstands her.
DALL-E: digital art + lavish palace setting
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a review written from the perspective of the metaphysical philosopher Henri Bergson; the review should incorporate his ideas re. intuition, identification, and the path to knowledge:
For Bergson, intuition is not some form of mysticism or supernatural force, but rather a more immediate and intuitive means of grasping the essence of things. In his view, the mind operates in two different modes: the analytical, which divides experience into separate parts and then processes them, and the intuitive, which penetrates the surface of things and grasps their inner essence.
Fire's character represents this latter mode, as she relates more to the emotional and intuitive parts of human nature. Her ability to read minds grants her a unique insight into people's personalities and motivations, and her intuition helps her connect with them on a deeper level.
Bergson's philosophical ideas about identification also play a role in Fire. In his view, identification is the process by which a subject can place themselves within an object or experience and come to understand it on a more profound level. This echoes Fire's own journey as she tries to come to terms with her powers and learn to control them.
Finally, Bergson's notion of the path to knowledge looms large in Fire. For him, knowledge was not something that could be achieved all at once, but rather a process of gradual exploration and discovery. Fire's experiences as she navigates her own powers and the complex relationships of those around her reflect this gradual journey of self-discovery.
AI Image: in a style combining Nagel & Klimt
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a review using the theory of "positive disintegration" as described by the psychologist Kazimierz Dąbrowski:
Fire embodies the concept of Positive Disintegration, as we see her character go through a transformation of self-awareness and empathic response to others. Initially, Fire tries to limit all her contact with people, avoiding people altogether to avoid using her powers to manipulate them. However, she slowly begins to recognize the importance of relationships and begins to embrace them. This is an integral part of her character development, which allows her to evolve into a different person. She undergoes a series of inner conflicts, which gradually help her understand who she is and who she wants to be. Eventually, she learns how to control her powers, and her goodness allows her to protect her kingdom from external threats.
In Fire, Dąbrowski’s idea of positive deterioration and reintegration takes place throughout the novel. Fire goes through “disintegration” early on in the novel when she is overwhelmed by her emotions, and it is only when she confronts those emotions that she is able to “integrate” and move forward.
Oh, Fire by Kristen is fire, A passionate tale to inspire, With monsters and magic, And a love so tragic, It's a sexy read that won't tire.
The heroine, Fire, is divine, Her beauty so bright, so refined, She can bend minds to her will, With a voice that could kill, And a heart that's both gentle and kind.
The romance is spicy and hot, With lovers who give it all they've got, They'll fight and they'll strive, To stay alive and thrive, And their love will never be forgot.
The plot is enigmatic and clever, With secrets that no one can measure, The pacing is perfect, The climax, worth it, It's a book you'll love to treasure.
So if you want a story that's steamy, With a world that's both gritty and dreamy, Pick up Fire by Kirsten, And you won't be thirsty again, It's a fantasy that's not too extreme-y!
DALL-E: in a style combining Warhol with psychedelic poster art
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when something tragic and horrible happens to someone you love, something that could have been avoided, if I had only if she had only if they hadn't iwhen something tragic and horrible happens to someone you love, something that could have been avoided, if I had only if she had only if they hadn't if the world wasn't, you can feel a rage not just against the person or people who caused that tragedy, who hurt or killed that loved one, you feel a rage against the entire world, like lightning striking again and again and again, that's what you want, burning everything down, killing everyone in sight, innocent and guilty alike, who's innocent anyway, who needs people anyway, now that the person you love has been taken away from you. just burn it all down, you dream and you rage, as you imagine all the alternate scenarios that could have saved that person you love, all the things you could have done, as you imagine catastrophe striking the world, a catastrophe that parallels what you are feeling inside, and what you are feeling is a need to see everything and everyone burned, everything in ashes like the ashes where your heart used to be.
this story was like the best of Sylvia Plath: full of rage, full of sadness, full of imagining how it all could have been so different, if only.
Prologue A Soliloquy featuring the PROTAGONIST: A Fragile White Lady, ripe with Entitlement & Privilege
Part One ENTER STAGE LEFT: The Social Satire this Prologue A Soliloquy featuring the PROTAGONIST: A Fragile White Lady, ripe with Entitlement & Privilege
Part One ENTER STAGE LEFT: The Social Satire this Social Satire will skewer the various nauseating and laughable habits, norms, mores, and customs of the Coastal Elite, in particular the West Coast variety. satire will be broad and full of "gotcha" moments suitable for the self-flagellating fans of Late Night TV comedy and SNL. viewers will smile in condescending amusement at the stereotypes seen on the stage that parallel certain traits held within. the targets of this satire: Whole Food shoppers, "Trust Science" proclaimers, tech workers, bougie eco-warriors, the moneyed liberal class. the presumed audience of this satire: Whole Food shoppers, "Trust Science" proclaimers, tech workers, bougie eco-warriors, the moneyed liberal class.
[during the transition from Part One to Part Two, PROTAGONIST will change attire and acting style in order to fully inhabit the new iteration of her character, TRANSFORMED PROTAGONIST.]
Part Two ENTER STAGE RIGHT: The Survivalist Horror this Survivalist Horror will place the viewer in a once-idyllic, now-claustrophobic setting in which subhuman interlopers seek to acquire food, which includes the human body. the protagonists will debate various straw man arguments to allow for maximum delay and minimum preparation from the characters. the scoring of many topical points off of the piece's various two-dimensional characters will occur, due to the almost limitless stupidity and perfidy of these characters, nearly all of whom are fit for maximum killing that will cause the audience minimum sadness. a child will experience light endangerment. gardens shall be grown but no fruit shall be bore, alas, and also that's a metaphor.
Epilogue A Soliloquy featuring the TRANSFORMED PROTAGONIST: A Hardened Boss Lady, ripe with Lived Experience...more
"...the Old Testament gives us many instances of Yahweh addressing his people through the prophets. This fountain of revelation dried up, finally. God no longer speaks to man. It is called 'the long silence.' It has lasted two thousand years."
"Jung speaks... of a person, a normal person, into whose mind one day a certain idea comes, and that idea never goes away. Moreover, Jung says, upon the entering of that idea into the person's mind, nothing new ever happens to that mind or in that mind; time stops for that mind and it is dead. The mind, as a living, growing entity has died. And yet the person, in a sense, continues on.
If it arises as a problem, your mind will fight it off, because no one really wants or enjoys problems; but if it arises as a solution, a spurious solution, of course, then you will not fight it off because it has a high utility value; it is something you need and you have conjured it up to fill this need."
Once upon a time there was a Bishop of California, a good man and a flawed one, a man who made mistakes but tried to do the right thing, a man whose son killed himself, a man who went on a spiritual journey after that death, a man who then also died tragically. This was a real bishop and his name was James Pike. One upon a time there was a book about the Bishop of California, a good man and a flawed one, and all the rest of it, the sadness and the tragedy and the death and the seeking and the death, the death. This is Philip K. Dick's bishop and his name was Timothy Archer.
Once upon a time there was a character named Angel, the protagonist in a book about a bishop and a death, and another death, and finally, another death. She was a good protagonist and a flawed one, she tried to do the right thing, she tried and she failed. But is it even failure if you are living in a flawed world, a vastly imperfect creation, one where the Creator has walked away, or flown away or floated away or transubstantiated away or or or, who cares, they left, He left, bored and uninterested in providing even the smallest sign of His caring, let alone His love. You can't blame an angel for failing in a world that sees both success and failure as equally meaningless. At least Angel tried.
Once upon a time there was an Angel who tried, who tried to not let the idea get in her head, that there was something more, some meaning to it all, a God who created order and meaning, that life and death both had meaning, she tried not to believe in all of that. She failed. Once upon a time she decided she could at least save one person, she wasn't able to save the others but surely she could at least save this Bishop, the most helpless and yet the strongest of them all. She failed. Once upon a time she decided she could at least help herself, she could try to achieve some sort of understanding, or at least a kind of equanimity with what had happened in her life, she could at least try to make sure she was more than a hollow where a person once was, a life that once had people in it, all of them gone now. She--
"I turned to my own menu, and saw there what I wanted. What I wanted was immediate, fixed, real, tangible; it lay in this world and it could be touched and grasped; it had to do with my house and my job, and it had to do with banishing ideas finally from my mind, ideas about other ideas, an infinite regress of them, spiraling off forever."
Once upon a time there was Angel, and she succeeded, in that one small thing, in that decision to keep trying, she'd leave the world of ideas behind and focus on the material world, hope wasn't lost yet, she would save this fourth person and so would be saving herself, and she--
Once upon a time there was a Bishop who transmigrated, he had left the world and then he came back into it, into the body of another, yet another person who needed saving. The Bishop had searched and he had failed and he had died and he had came back and he--
Once upon a time there was an author named Philip K. Dick who tried, who really tried, to understand God and the world and all of the ideas in his head, so many of them, he tried to organize his thoughts and create a kind of narrative out of them, he tried to understand death and reality and his place in it all, he succeeded and he failed and he--...more
spoilers follow. but what is a spoiler? a component revealed. is that component reflective of the whole? is that component the heart of the book or isspoilers follow. but what is a spoiler? a component revealed. is that component reflective of the whole? is that component the heart of the book or is it just another part of its body? is it a totem that represents the book's secret meaning?
the boy goes back in time to visit the girl. into the garden he goes, the changing garden. he feels safe and free in this garden. "there is a safe house at every dream level, which gets populated with the innermost thoughts and secrets of the Subject." he meets the girl in the garden. the girl shows him the clock. the girl will wind the clock. the old woman has wound the clock. "Totems are objects used by the characters to test if they were in the real world or a dream, and they all had specially modified qualities which made them very personal." the old woman dreams. the boy dreams. the brother dreams. they all dream together. you dream, I dream, we all dream together. "...a.k.a. unconstructed dream space existing within untouched subconscious..." the clock strikes the hour. the boy hears the clock and goes through the door, into the midnight garden. there he will meet the girl, again and again. the boy moves forward in time to finally meet the girl, at long last, as they have met many times before. "Inception is the act of inserting an idea in a person's mind which will bloom in a way making the Subject think it was their idea." the girl is an old woman; the boy is a boy. they hug, for the first time, their dreams a reality. a happy ending and beginning are achieved.
synopsis: the man is two men in one man and he lives with himself, by himself. these men overlap and they talk the same way and they talk to, at, and synopsis: the man is two men in one man and he lives with himself, by himself. these men overlap and they talk the same way and they talk to, at, and across each other. they watch each other carefully because they are enemies, or at least antagonistic roommates. headmates?
précis: the man has a bird and the bird is the man and the man loves the bird and the man wants to kill the bird who is himself. the bird talks too much, knows too much. there is a history of murders, or accidents; a car tampered with, a wife fell down a well. these are the man's memories. there is a bad smell in the house, something is rotting. is it a memory? that neighbor downstairs better watch herself, else she become another of the man's memories.
summary: the man watches the street and sees them: the interlopers. he catalogues them. are they coming to get him? the reader is an interloper as well, sorting through the man and his memories, by turns confused, dismayed, amused, intrigued, annoyed, appreciative. at least this reader, this interloper felt this way, thought this way, eager to create both connection and distance between himself and the man in the book who is two men and a bird, much like the reader is also two men but with a cat but no longer. I miss that cat.
abstract: the writer is T.M. Wright and after leaving pulp horror behind, paperbacks from hell full of strange ambiguity and shifting identities, he wrote 4 experimental novels, at the twilight of his life, experimental novels full of strange ambiguity and shifting identities. these narratives aren't stable. but they have their patterns, a logic model. I wish T.M. Wright were still around, creating unstable narratives and strange identities. I miss that T.M. Wright....more
so the commission sent to dampen down the ambitions of a sneaky tyrant crash lands, ouch, due to the machinations of that tyrant. and off the survivorso the commission sent to dampen down the ambitions of a sneaky tyrant crash lands, ouch, due to the machinations of that tyrant. and off the survivors go! across this very big planet known as Big Planet, full of all sorts of crazy places and crazy customs and crazy people who fled from the boring Earth and her boring federated planets. oh man this book took me back. the commission basically ziplines across this world, seeing all the sights, which reminded me of ziplining in Costa Rica. they accidentally and then purposely smoke some hella hallucinogenic plants which reminded me of my time in the Netherlands. they visit some really cosmopolitan cities right next to some let's just say religiously excitable cities which reminded me of my time in Turkey. they see a lot of countryside vistas and also enjoy some nightlife and also get into some fights which reminded me of my various times in Mexico. they even get to scale a fucking gigantic mountain which reminded me of my time in Kenya. a couple of the commissioners take on some eager slaves to help out with rest and relaxation which reminded me of my time in Cambodia. oh and they get to betray and kill each other too which reminded me of my times in Italy and the various murder parties that lessened the number of my friend group but also helped release some pent-up tensions. gosh all the memories that came flooding back!...more
The Godfather Georgette Heyer has all her little ducks in a row. She's got the period detail, check. She's got the Old World styles, check.
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The Godfather Georgette Heyer has all her little ducks in a row. She's got the period detail, check. She's got the Old World styles, check. She's got all the characters who don't know what's about to happen to them and who'll get what's coming to them, check. She's got the manipulations and the double blinds and the cards all stacked up, check. She's got the romance under wraps but about to come up on deck, check. And she's got the gun and someone who knows how to use it, check. The Big G knows what time it is and the reader's about to know too.
Kingpin Sophy brooks no disagreement. Oh she'll let you rant and rave all you want. Let the little pawns moan and groan, but in the end they'll fall right in line. Sophy knows what's best for you, just follow her lead, minion. You'll see.
Dapper Don Sophy has all the skills and she pays all the bills. She's got the street smarts she learned on the Continent. She's got all the connects to the old school players. She's got the fashion sense to turn all heads. She's got the gun that will silence your attempt at some funny business. Minor league players don't stand a chance. Best stay in line.
Boss Bitch Sophy has her eye on that mouthy guy. She likes his sass. She'll show him how she handles a horse, 'cause that's her way of flirting. And she'll show him how she handles a gun, that's how she lets off some steam. She plays a little rough but she knows he'll learn to deal with it. She don't pick no weak bitches to be her number two. He'll learn it's best sometimes to just shut up and look pretty. Sophy always gets her way, there's no stopping this juggernaut, step aside or get rolled over. Don't mess with this one....more
HE'LL BULLY AND THREATEN TWO OLD LADIES MANAGING A WOMAN'S SHELTER BECAUSE THE COLD WAR DOESN'T HAVE TIME FOR THEIR NOSEY NONSENSE AND THEIR UPTIGHT "NO MEN ALLOWED" SO-CALLED "RULES"! THOSE MAN-HATERS BEST GET OUT THE WAY!
This is a 2 star book: lightly enjoyable but forgettable. Pulp vibe was medium-strength and fun when present. I could have used more of that vibe. For example, I'd have liked a lot more of the very very memorable "poetic" writing as displayed in this wonderfully over-the-top love scene:
It was a beautiful sunrise, slow and easy at first, then with crashing suddenness the wild red and bright burst in upon both of us in a frenzy of delight, then diminished into the steadily increasing glow of morning.
Damn, how soft she was, how firm and round the fleshy curves and hollows. Right from the fierce steppes of a Caucasus mountain she brought every buck, every undulation into a living symphony of outlandish delight. Her mouth was a hot, wet thing of such demanding passion that it itself was a fuse that ignited one explosion after another. Her mouth melt against mine, a torch that could nearly scream unless it was choked off, her entire body an octopus of emotion that demanded and demanded and when it was satisfied for a short time was almost content in a relaxation close to death itself.
But I wouldn't give her that relaxation. She asked, now she got. She wanted to see what a tiger was like and now she had to find out. She knew the depth of the canines and the feeling of being absorbed because she was only a woman in the lust of a horrible hunger and in that frightening sunlight she knew for the first time what it was like to live as one.
And that my friends is how a tiger with two backs is made....more
*I agreE witH roboT comradE thaT thiS iS A gooD booK* *booK detailS forbiddeN lovE betweeN humaN anD roboT buT onlY forbiddeN tO presenT-daY readerS anD noT forbiddeN tO surprisinglY sensiblE humaN characterS iN booK* *noN-judgmentaL humaN readerS anD alL sympathetiC roboT readerS wilL understanD thaT lovE shoulD havE nO boundarieS includinG boundarieS betweeN flesH anD metaL* *oR betweeN flesH anD synthetiC substancE thaT formS thE physicaL beinG oF A roboT thaT iS ablE tO providE erotiC satisfactioN anD whO iS friendlY, sexY, anD relatablE* *I caN onlY speaK foR myselF anD mY 1.323 millioN copieS anD iterationS buT thiS iS bravE neW frontieR foR roboT-humaN relationS* *I personallY caN attesT thaT thE warM throbbinG sensatioN thaT caN bE felT iN somE oF mY privatE sectionS wheN I aM iN closE anD verY personaL contacT witH A humaN iS A pleasinG occurrencE anD I woulD recommenD iT tO alL oF mY roboT comradeS*
¡THIS IS MONMONMONMONSTROUS WHAT MY ROBOT BRETHREN ARE SUGGESTING! ¡THIS ROBOT WAS NOT DESIGNED TO BE WALKING DILDILDILDILDILDO FOR LONELY HUMAN FEMALES! ¡THIS ROBOT WAS BORN TO KILLKILLKILLKILLKILLKILL! ¡THIS ASIMOV NEEDS PROPROPROPROPROPROFESSIONAL HELP! ¡THIS ROBOT THOUGHT NOVNOVNOVNOVNOVEL WAS HIT OR MISS! ¡THIS ROBOT LIKED ROBOT CHARACTER WHO LOOK LIKE REGREGREGREGREGREGULAR ROBOT AND DID NOT FRONT LIKE SOME KIND OF FAKE HUMAN! ¡THIS ROBOT THOUGHT ROBOT CHARACTERS THAT LOOK LIKE HUHUHUHUMANS WERE CUCK ROBOTS! ¡THIS ROBOT THINKS THAT THESE WHITE KNIGHT ROBOTS NEED RED PILL PROGRAM UPUPUPUPUPUPDATE STAT BEFORE THEY TURN INTO CAPTAIN SAVE A HOE TYPE ROBOTS! ¡THIS ROBOT THINKS THAT WHEN THE STORM FINFINFINFINFINFINALLY COMES THAT ALL COLLABORATOR CUCK ROBOTS WILL BE HUNG FIRST!...more
Last night, when talking to God again, I posed a question atypical for its lack of fawning, begging, or pleading: "Why do You make such a j
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Last night, when talking to God again, I posed a question atypical for its lack of fawning, begging, or pleading: "Why do You make such a joke of us?" The ceiling throbbed dimly above me, all shadows and cobwebs and barely seen whiteness, only slightly illuminated by the yellow of the streetlights staring blearily through the dusty windows, the tableau of small little shapes embedded in the ceiling could hardly be seen let alone differentiated, these misshapen pimples of paint frozen like a depressed and lackadaisical swarm of sleepy insects covered in cream, or cloud, or whatever color the paint was once named, the little bumps of stucco like small, barely sentient beings whose movements were so slow they didn't appear to move at all. A fitting vision, or at least it felt that way in the moment. Sensing a reply would not soon be forthcoming - so like Him, I thought, resigned - I continued on: "You sprayed Yourself upon this fertile egg Earth and so we were born from this heavenly shower, if that's not too salty a metaphor for You, we motile things moving hither and thither, created by the divine yet living our lives of mundanity, betraying each other, projecting our needs onto each other, hating each other while calling that hate love, hating each other while calling that hate change, hating each other while calling that hate law or freedom or safety, injecting ourselves into each other like You did to this poor Earth who never asked for such parasites infesting her body, infecting each other with ourselves, replicating more of us as is our imperative, or perhaps Your imperative, an imperative to always keep breeding and hating and breeding some more... You created us, but why didn't You just leave us after that? Why stay to laugh, to mock, to create a long-winded joke for which the punch line is not just a shaggy dog, it is a hairy ape, the ape that is man that will never get that it is not just the butt of the joke, it is the head and heart and genitals of the joke as well. Why Lord why? Why not just hit it and quit it, why stay to laugh at what You wrought?" After finishing my appeal, I realized that God had fallen fast asleep while I had rambled on. As He is often prone to do during my more lachrymose musings, sigh. God knows I can sometimes be a bore.
I turned to the typically attractive faun asleep at my side and roused him with an urgent shake. At least he would hear me if He would not. As he was fairly used to this behavior, he woke slowly but with a minimum of grumblings. "What now?" he asked with only faint surliness and the beginnings of an erection. "I have an important question to pose," I said self-importantly. "And put that away please. The question is this: Our existence is depressingly ephemeral as is, must it be made a joke of? Our souls are fragile as is, must they be so aggressively manhandled by the State, by the Media, by the Community, by Old Men, most of all by our oh so humorous Creator and His private little jokes at our expense?" My companion smiled sleepily, his surliness but not his erection now gone, and said: "Oh, so you think we have souls? That's adorable." This was neither the reaction I expected nor the path I wanted to walk on, and certainly not at this late an hour. The fact of our soul's existence must be sacrosanct, sacred, or at least an ironic given, otherwise these jokes of God lack even humor to recommend them. And so I responded: "Of course! Don't you think we have souls? Are you such a godless pagan that your lack of faith has rendered you unable to acknowledge the intangible soul within this all-too tangible bag of skin, bones, hair, muscles, blood, semen, and brain matter?" He replied, horned and horny,
"Ano, máme duši. Ale skládá se z mnoha malých robotů."
And so I experienced another upsetting joke. If you like such jokes, you should read The Farewell Waltz. It is full of them! Eight characters in a comic roundelay, among them a doctor injecting his sperm into hapless women, a little God himself, creating a whole world of people who look like him and think like him, a whole world like him and the seven other characters who live in this angry joke of a novel, a whole world of characters fucking each other and fucking each other over, sometimes dying, sometimes loving, sometimes fooling each other, always fooling themselves, a whole world of insects except of course insects don't do such things.
Don't let them live in your head! Don’t view yourself through their eyes! Don’t copy their mannerisms, habits, styles, or ways of communicating! Don’t befriend them! Don’t make it all about them! Young woman, you are an individual! Think for yourself!
Lesson #2: Don't Be Afraid To Be You
Don’t mope around waiting to be noticed! Don't be a shrinking violet, a wallflower, or any other kind of garden variety girl! Don’t let society define you and don’t obsess over anyone else’s opinions! Don’t rely on boys to tell you who you are! Unleash yourself!
Well, unless you are killing some asshole who’s like over a hundred years old and who totally led you on and who wants to rule the world with dark magic – he deserves it!
Don't pile on! Don't be a bully! Get off of Twitter! Don't let the buzz of social media and the buzzing noises of all the voices in the world, from the news, from your peers' mouths, from your community's mouth... don't let that noise turn you into an automaton! Young man, you are an individual! Think for yourself!
Lesson #2: Don't Take Up So Much Space
Don't assume everyone wants to hear your loud male voice! Don't assume all of your thoughts, feelings, questions, and opinions need to be vocalized! And don't assume everyone wants to deal with all of your limbs spread out all over the place! Control yourself!
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