In theory, there's no difference between theory and practice.
In practice, there is.
It seems like a man can just about bear anything. He can
even bear what he never done. He can even bear the thinking
how some things is just more than he can bear. He can even
bear it that if he could just give down and cry, he
wouldn't do it. He can even bear it to not look back,
even when he knows that looking back or not looking back
wont do him any good.
…the Greek amphora priestess of a succinct and formal
Bayard, of Drusilla
How beautiful you are: do you know it? How beautiful:
young, to be permitted to kill, to be permitted vengeance,
to take into your bare hands the fire of heaven that cast
down Lucifer. No; I. I gave it to you; I put it into your
hands; oh you will thank me, you will remember me when I am
dead and you are an old man saying to himself, ‘I have
tasted all things’.
Drusilla, to Bayard
Know how complex it is, then state it simply.
She was gone for about ten minutes and he felt of the
girl's drink and decided to drink it before it got
warm. He took it in his hand and raised it to his lips and
he found as it touched his lips that it gave him pleasure
because it was hers. It was clear and undeniable. That's
all you need, he thought. That's all you need to make
things really perfect. Be in love with both of
them. What's happened to you since last May? What are
you anymore anyway? But he touched the glass to his lips
again and there was the same reaction as before. All right,
he said, remember to do the work. The work is what you have
left. You better fork up with the work.
Ahhh, it's so hard, ya know, it's so hard to believe
in anything anymore, ya know what I mean? It's like
religion, you can't really take it seriously, because it
seems so mythological and it seems so arbitrary, and then on
the other hand, science is just pure empiricism, and by virtue
of its method it excludes metaphysics. And I guess I
wouldn't believe in anything if it weren't for my
Lucky Astrology Mood-Watch.
Now dig this HAH!
There is a point in every philosophy at which the
‘conviction’ of the philosopher appears on the
scene; or, to put it in the words of an ancient mystery: adventavit asinus, pulcher et fortissimus.
What bizarre shit?
Rocket-man, holy shit, it really is…
Seaman “Pig” Bodine
How can we lose, when we're so sincere?
cold the vacancy
When the phantoms are gone and the shaken realist
First sees reality. The mortal no
Has its emptiness and tragic expirations.
The tragedy however may have begun,
Again, in the imagination's new beginning,
In the yes of the realist spoken because he must
Say yes, spoken because under every no
Lay a passion for yes that had never been broken.
Esthétique du Malviii
Las Vegas is not a good town for psychedelics. Reality
itself is too twisted.
Dogs fucked the Pope? No fault of mine.
HST, to the doorman at
Do they pay
you to fuck that bear?
The Lawyer, to a waitress at
The vague accuracy of events
dancing two by two with language,
which they forever surpass
To make a beginning
out of particulars
To roll up the sum by defective means…
Rigor of beauty is the quest
But how will you find it when it is locked away in the mind
beyond all remonstrance?
© Erik Curiel 2015 ☠