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62800b7 "We drove 22 miles into the country around Farmington. There were meadows and apple orchards. White fences trailed through the rolling fields. Soon the sign started appearing. THE MOST PHOTOGRAPHED BARN IN AMERICA. We counted five signs before we reached the site. There were 40 cars and a tour bus in the makeshift lot. We walked along a cowpath to the slightly elevated spot set aside for viewing and photographing. All the people had cameras; some had tripods, telephoto lenses, filter kits. A man in a booth sold postcards and slides -- pictures of the barn taken from the elevated spot. We stood near a grove of trees and watched the photographers. Murray maintained a prolonged silence, occasionally scrawling some notes in a little book. "No one sees the barn," he said finally. A long silence followed. "Once you've seen the signs about the barn, it becomes impossible to see the barn." He fell silent once more. People with cameras left the elevated site, replaced by others. We're not here to capture an image, we're here to maintain one. Every photograph reinforces the aura. Can you feel it, Jack? An accumulation of nameless energies." There was an extended silence. The man in the booth sold postcards and slides. "Being here is a kind of spiritual surrender. We see only what the others see. The thousands who were here in the past, those who will come in the future. We've agreed to be part of a collective perception. It literally colors our vision. A religious experience in a way, like all tourism." Another silence ensued. "They are taking pictures of taking pictures," he said." -- photography humor satire don-delillo white-noise tourism Don DeLillo
4fa90ae "We drove 22 miles into the country around Farmington. There were meadows and apple orchards. White fences trailed through the rolling fields. Soon the sign started appearing. THE MOST PHOTOGRAPHED BARN IN AMERICA. We counted five signs before we reached the site. There were 40 cars and a tour bus in the makeshift lot. We walked along a cowpath to the slightly elevated spot set aside for viewing and photographing. All the people had cameras; some had tripods, telephoto lenses, filter kits. A man in a booth sold postcards and slides -- pictures of the barn taken from the elevated spot. We stood near a grove of trees and watched the photographers. Murray maintained a prolonged silence, occasionally scrawling some notes in a little book. "No one sees the barn," he said finally. A long silence followed. "Once you've seen the signs about the barn, it becomes impossible to see the barn." He fell silent once more. People with cameras left the elevated site, replaced by others. We're not here to capture an image, we're here to maintain one. Every photograph reinforces the aura. Can you feel it, Jack? An accumulation of nameless energies." There was an extended silence. The man in the booth sold postcards and slides. "Being here is a kind of spiritual surrender. We see only what the others see. The thousands who were here in the past, those who will come in the future. We've agreed to be part of a collective perception. It literally colors our vision. A religious experience in a way, like all tourism." Another silence ensued. "They are taking pictures of taking pictures," he said." photography humor satire don-delillo white-noise tourism Don DeLillo
4ca5ddb When he died he would not end. The world would end. don-delillo Don DeLillo
8f69345 "it's not the sex you think i've had. it's the sex i want. that's what you smell on me. because the more i look at you, the more i know about us both.and the more i want to have sex with you. because there's a certain kind of sex that has an element of cleansing. it's the antidote to disillusion. the counterpoison."_Eric Packer" don-delillo Don DeLillo
125f2c9 "sex finds us. sex sees through us. that's why it's so shattering. it strips us of appearances."_Eric Packer" don-delillo Don DeLillo
34203d9 why something and not nothing? why music and not noise? don-delillo Don DeLillo
e664f14 World is supposed to mean something that's self-contained. but nothing is self-contained. don-delillo Don DeLillo
4d13370 Freud is finished, Einstein's next. don-delillo Don DeLillo
ba5f7b6 holes are interesting. there are books about holes. don-delillo Don DeLillo
24ca716 Something about the time of year depressed him deeply. Overcast skies and cutting wind, leaves falling, dusk falling, dark too soon, night flying down before you are ready. It's a terror. It's a bareness of the soul. He hears the rustle of nuns. Here comes winter in the bone. We've set it loose on the land. There must be some song or poem, some folk magic we can use to ease this fear. Skelly Bone Pete. Here it is in the landscape and sky. We've set it loose. We've opened up the ground and here it is. He took Interstate 45 south. He didn't want them to kill Leon. He felt a saturating sense of death, a dread in the soft filling of his bones, the suckable part, approaching Galveston now. skelly-bone-pete libra don-delillo Don DeLillo
371c1c4 "I pick up the list of Benji's five favorite books because we've got work to do: "Gravity's Rainbow" by Thomas Pynchon. He's a pretentious fuck and a liar. "Underworld" by Don DeLillo. He's a snob. "On the Road" by Jack Kerouac. He's a spoiled passport-carrying fuck stunted in eighth grade. "Brief Interviews with Hideous Men" by David Foster Wallace. Enough already. "The Red Badge of Courage" by Stephen Crane. He's got Mayflowers in his blood." -- humor favorite-books pretension pretentiousness thomas-pynchon stephen-crane don-delillo jack-kerouac Caroline Kepnes
646e429 "I pick up the list of Benji's five favorite books because we've got work to do: "Gravity's Rainbow" by Thomas Pynchon. He's a pretentious fuck and a liar. "Underworld" by Don DeLillo. He's a snob. "On the Road" by Jack Kerouac. He's a spoiled passport-carrying fuck stunted in eighth grade. "Brief Interviews with Hideous Men" by David Foster Wallace. Enough already. "The Red Badge of Courage" by Stephen Crane. He's got Mayflowers in his blood." humor favorite-books pretension pretentiousness thomas-pynchon stephen-crane don-delillo jack-kerouac Caroline Kepnes
0cd5f85 "days like this. i look at you and feel electric. tell me you don't feel it too."_Eric Packer" don-delillo Don DeLillo
aba11f5 You and I. We're here. So might as well. don-delillo Don DeLillo
2fdfd19 "How many times do two people have to fuck before one of them deserves to die?" _Eric Packer" die two-people don-delillo Don DeLillo
ed42362 "i like your mother. you have your mother's breasts." "her breasts." "great stand-up tits." he said" don-delillo Don DeLillo
f74c4dd "i want to eat lunch. you want to eat lunch. we're people in the world. we need to eat and talk."_Eric Packer" don-delillo Don DeLillo
4a6e87a That clean but lonely feeling when there are no other cars. The traffic lights changing just for you. jack-ruby libra modernity don-delillo hysteria Don DeLillo
adb94e5 it's there in your face, all of it, the way it rarely shows in any face. what do i see? something lazy, sexy and insatiable. don-delillo Don DeLillo
e735889 "i look at you. i know what you are. you are sloppy-bodied, smelly and wet. a woman who was born to sit trapped in a chair while a man tells her how much she excites him." _Eric Packer" don-delillo Don DeLillo
203226e "she knows what he means, that they don't have to touch. the same thing that's happening to him is happening to her. she doesn't need to crawl under the table ans suck his dick. too tire to interest either one of them. the flow is strong between them. the emotional tone. let it express itself. he sees her in her wallow and feel his pelvic muscles begin to quiver. he say, tell me to stop and i'll stop. but he doesn't wait for her to reply. there isn't time. the tails of his sperm cells are lashing already. she is his sweetheart and lover and slut undying. he doesn't have to do the unspeakable thing he wants to do. he only has to speak it. because they're beyond every model of established behavior. he only wants to say the words." _Eric Packer" don-delillo Don DeLillo
02e0dc7 All plots tend to move deathward. This is the nature of plots. Political plots, terrorist plots, lovers' plots, narrative plots, plots that are part of children's games. We edge nearer death every time we plot. It is like a contract that all must sign, the plotters as well as those who are the targets of the plot. politics love plots narrative plotting terrorism don-delillo white-noise Don DeLillo
d15f96e "this is the woman you are inside the life. looking at you, what? i'm more excited than i've been since the first burning nights of adolescent frenzy. excited and confused. i look at you and feel an erection stirring even as the situation argues strenuously against it." _Eric Packer" don-delillo Don DeLillo
db0b489 it can't afford to be hard. it won't allow itself psychologically. don-delillo Don DeLillo
30addb6 Billy tried to imagine the birth of Cyril's wife's baby. It would happen in grim lights violently. A dripping thing trying to clutch to its hole. Dredged up and beaten. Blood and drool and womb mud. How cute, this neon shrieker made to plunge upward, odd-headed blob, this marginal electric glow-thing. Dressed and powdered now. Engineered to abstract design. Cling, suck and cry. Follow with the eye. Gloom and drought of unprotected sleep. Had there been a light in her belly, dim briny light in that pillowing womb, dusk enough to light a page, bacterial smear of light, an amniotic gleam that I could taste, old, deep, wet and warm? Return, return to negative unity. delillo-ratner-s-star ratner-s-star ratners-star don-delillo Don DeLillo
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