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65888cf
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Our beauty lies in this extended capacity for convolution.
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Thomas Pynchon |
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c98a3b2
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Nobody wanted to hear about all the Preterite, the many God passes over when he chooses a few for salvation. William argued holiness for these "second Sheep," without whom there'd be no elect. You can bet the Elect in Boston were pissed off about that. And it got worse. William felt that what Jesus was for the elect, Judas Iscariot was for the Preterite. Everything in the Creation has its equal and opposite counterpart. How can Jesus be an ..
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jesus
judas-iscariot
preterite
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Thomas Pynchon |
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0997e91
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Dealing with the Hippie is generally straightforward. His childlike nature will usually respond positively to drugs, sex, and/or rock and roll, although in which order these are to be deployed must depend on conditions specific to the moment.
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Thomas Pynchon |
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45bfea5
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Everybody who says the same words is the same person if the spectra are the same only they happen differently in time, you dig? But the time is arbitrary. You pick your zero point anywhere you want, that way you can shuffle each person's time line sideways till they all coincide.
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Thomas Pynchon |
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d3ed5fa
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The grandeur of space, dig it. Zillions of stars, each one gets its own pixel." "Awesome." "Maybe, but it's code's all it is."
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stars
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Thomas Pynchon |
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bce47f4
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And when Franz Ferdinand pays, everybody pays!
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humor
prophetic
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Thomas Pynchon |
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b677fcc
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Easy. They just let us forget. Give us too much to process, fill up every minute, keep us distracted, it's what the Tube is for, and though it kills me to say it, it's what rock and roll is becoming - just another way to claim our attention, so that beautiful certainty we had starts to fade, and after a while they have us convinced all over again that we really are going to die. And they've got us again.
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Thomas Pynchon |
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f9a164c
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They plot, they plot, sleeping or afoot they never let up.
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war
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Thomas Pynchon |
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1764ea2
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Poetry is not communication with angels or with the "subconscious." It is communication with the guts, genitals, and five portals of sense. Nothing more."
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Thomas Pynchon |
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9a40552
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A weapon based on Time . . ." mused Viktor Mulciber. "Well, why not? The one force no one knows how to defeat, resist, or reverse. It kills all forms of life sooner or later. With a Time-weapon you could become the most feared person in history." "I'd rather be loved," said Root. Mulciber shrugged. "You're young."
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Thomas Pynchon |
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633a8a5
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She looked down a slope, needing to squint for the sunlight, onto a vast sprawl of houses which had grown up all together, like a well-tended crop, from the dull brown earth; and she thought of the time she'd opened a transistor radio to replace a battery and seen her first printed circuit. The ordered swirl of houses and streets, from this high angle, sprang at her now with the same unexpected, astonishing clarity as the circuit card had. ..
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Thomas Pynchon |
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16ee286
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Stencil had called from a Hungarian coffee shop on York Avenue known as Hungarian Coffee Shop
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miscellaneous
stencil
hungary
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Thomas Pynchon |
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6cabcb0
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and men of science,' cries dixon, 'may be but the simple tools of others, with no more idea of what they are about, than a hammer knows of a house.
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thomas pynchon |
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083236e
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Man, I want to die, is all,' cried Ploy. 'Don't you know,' said Dahoud, 'that life is the most precious possession you have?' 'Ho, ho,' said Ploy through his tears. 'Why?' 'Because,' said Dahoud, 'without it, you'd be dead.
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Thomas Pynchon |
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553e1c9
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Displaced Person's Song If you see a train this evening, Far away, against the sky, Lie down in your woolen blanket, Sleep and let the train go by. Trains have called us, every midnight, From a thousand miles away, Trains that pass through empty cities, Trains that have no place to stay. No one drives the locomotive, No one tends the staring light, Trains have never needed riders, Trains belong to bitter night. Railway stations stand desert..
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war
train
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Thomas Pynchon |
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adcc84c
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Behind the hieroglyphic streets there would either be a transcendent meaning, or only the earth.... Another mode of meaning behind the obvious, or none. Either Oedipa in the orbiting of a true paranoia, or a real Tristero. For there either was some Tristero beyond the appearance of the legacy of America, or there was just America and if there was just America then it seemed the only wa[y] she could continue, and manage to be at all relevant..
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Thomas Pynchon |
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cde8e21
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Yeah, actually, gamers in the house forever.
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gamers
gamers-in-the-house-forever
gaming
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Thomas Pynchon |
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d0bbd62
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Lovely morning, World War Two.
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Thomas Pynchon |
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090f861
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As the day light left the city that night, the streetlamps were not up to anything like their usual candle-power. It was difficult to make anything out clearly. Ordinary social restraints were apt to be defective or not there at all. The screaming that went on all night, ignored as background murmur during the day, now, absent the clamor of street traffic, had taken on urgency and despair - a chorale of pain just about to pass from its real..
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Thomas Pynchon |
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b8c8238
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But a few choosing to venture deeper into the painful corridors of their affliction, found after a while that they could now grind and polish ever more exotic surfaces, hyperboloidial and even stranger, eventually including what we must term 'imaginary' shapes (which some preferred to term invisible).
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Thomas Pynchon |
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f7d8baf
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In the trenches of the First World War, English men came to love one another decently, without shame or make-believe, under the easy likelihoods of their sudden deaths, and to find in the faces of other young men evidence of otherworldly visits, some poor hope that may have helped redeem even mud, shit, the decaying pieces of human meat... It was the end of the world, it was total revolution (though not quite in the way Walter Rathenau had ..
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Thomas Pynchon |
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f446462
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Culture attracts the worst impulses of the moneyed, it has no honor, it begs to be suburbanized and corrupted.
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Thomas Pynchon |
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e809c78
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It takes, unhappily, no more than a desk and writing supplies to turn any room into a confessional.
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Thomas Pynchon |
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201c010
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This seemed to be happening more and more lately out in Greater Los Angeles, among gatherings of carefree youth and happy dopers, where Doc had begun to notice older men, there and not there, rigid, unsmiling, that he knew he'd seen before, not the faces necessarily but a defiant posture, an unwillingness to blur out, like everyone else at the psychedelic events of those days, beyond official envelopes of skin. Like the operatives who'd dra..
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Thomas Pynchon |
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d2dec01
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Times of great idealism carry equal chances for greater corruptibility.
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idealism
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Thomas Pynchon |
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7f3486f
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These times are unfriendly toward Worlds alternative to this one
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diagnosis
possibility
worlds
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Thomas Pynchon |
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c0bba78
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A woman is only half of something there are usually two sides to.
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Thomas Pynchon |
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0e40ab4
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The Line makes itself felt,-- thro' some Energy unknown, ever are we haunted by that Edge so precise, so near. In the Dark, one never knows. Of course I am seeking the Warrior Path, imagining myself as heroick Scout. We all feel it Looming, even when we're awake, out there ahead someplace, the way you come to feel a River or Creek ahead, before anything else,-- sound, sky, vegetation,-- may have announced it. Perhaps 'tis the very deep sub-..
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Thomas Pynchon |
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d6bf541
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Some would say eccentric. I would say stoned out of his fuckin mind, nothing personal.
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Thomas Pynchon |
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7e6be7b
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Chotto, Kenichiro! Dozo, motto panukeiku.
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Thomas Pynchon |
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fd9eef3
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Surely for as long as there have been nights as bad as this one---something to raise the possibility of another night that could actually, with love and cockcrows, light the path home, banish the Adversary, destroy the boundaries between our lands our bodies, our stories, all false, about who we are: for the one night, leaving only the clear way home and the memory of the infant you saw, almost too frail, there's too much shit in these stre..
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Thomas Pynchon |
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dc72887
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Yet at least he had believed in the cars, maybe to excess: how could he not, seeing people poorer than him come in, Negro, Mexican, cracker, a parade seven days a week, bring with them the most godawful of trade-ins: motorized, metal extensions of themselves, of their families and what their whole lives must be like, out there so naked for anybody, a stranger like himself, to look at, frame cockeyed, rusty underneath, fender repainted in a ..
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Thomas Pynchon |
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8fb9b70
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a million bureaucrats are diligently plotting death and some of them even know it...
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Thomas Pynchon |
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e394a13
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And one cried wee, wee, wee, all the way--" Jessica breaking down in a giggle as he reaches for the spot along her sweatered flank he knows she can't bear to be tickled in. She hunches, squirming, out of the way as he rolls past, bouncing off the back of the sofa but making a nice recovery, and by now she's ticklish all over, he can grab an ankle, elbow-- But a rocket has suddenly struck. A terrific blast quite close beyond the village: th..
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tickle
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Thomas Pynchon |
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513d708
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No, thought Oedipa, sad. As if their home cemetery in some way still did exist, in a land where you could somehow walk, and not need the East San Narciso Freeway, and bones still could rest in peace, nourishing ghosts of dandelions, no one to plow them up. As if the dead really do persist, even in a bottle of wine.
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Thomas Pynchon |
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06003fd
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You need to find true love, Doc." Actually, he thought, I'll settle for finding my way through this. His fingers, with a mind of their own, began to creep toward the plastic hedge. Maybe if he searched through it long enough, late enough into the night, he'd find something that might help --- some tiny forgotten scrap of his life he didn't even know was missing, something that would make all the difference now." --
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Thomas Pynchon |
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365d5b6
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Somewhere beyond the battening, urged sweep of three-bedroom houses rushing by their thousands across all the dark beige hills, somehow implicit in an arrogance or bite to the smog the more inland somnolence of San Narciso did lack, lurked the sea, the unimaginable Pacific, the one to which all surfers, beach pads, sewage disposal schemes, tourist incursions, sunned homosexuality, chartered fishing are irrelevant, the hole left by the moon'..
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Thomas Pynchon |
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e06cd2b
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For that moment at least they seemed to give up external plans, theories, and codes, even the inescapable romantic curiosity about one another, to indulge in being simply and purely young, to share that sense of the world's affliction, that outgoing sorrow at the spectacle of Our Human Condition which anyone this age regards as reward or gratuity for having survived adolescence.
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Thomas Pynchon |
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c5483e2
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Reclaimed by the small-time day-to-day, pretending life is Back To Normal, wrapping herself shivering against contingency's winter in some threadbare blanket of first-quarter expenses, school committees, cable-bill irregularities, a workday jittering with low-life fantasies for which "fraud" is often too elegant a term, upstairs neighbors to whom bathtub caulking is an alien concept, symptoms upper-respiratory and lower-intestinal, all in t..
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Thomas Pynchon |
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d31b7c1
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Down the toilet, lookit me, What a silly thing ta do!
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Thomas Pynchon |
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58fb6f5
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Damn you all. You have no idea what you're heading into. This world you take to be 'the' world will die, and descend into Hell, and all history after that will belong properly to the history of Hell.
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Thomas Pynchon |
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f73f9d5
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It seemed to him [Otto Kugelblitz] obvious that the human life span runs through the varieties of mental disorder as understood in his day--the solipsism of infancy, the sexual hysterias of adolescence and entry-level adulthood, the paranoia of middle age, the dementia of late life ... all working up to death, which at last turns out to be "sanity."
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Thomas Pynchon |
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371fb04
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Mason glowers, shaking his head. "I've ascended, descended, even condescended, and the List's not ended,-- but haven't yet trans-cended a blessed thing, thankee."
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Thomas Pynchon |
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2f0d142
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Only the framing material," Lucas demurely, "obvious influences, Neo-Tokyo from Akira, Ghost in the Shell, Metal Gear Solid by Hideo Kojima, or as he's known in my crib, God."
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ghost-in-the-shell
hideo-kojima
mgs
video-games
cyberpunk
japan
sci-fi
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Thomas Pynchon |