Writer's life

Domenica 2021-12-22 08:01:19

There is a song called Guns Don’t Kill People, People Kill People. Secretly change the concept, people don't write, they write.

Saying that God is dead is not the loss of human relations or the victory of the dead. It's just a little chaos before awakening, and people who are not energetic will have such a hazy time after getting up. It is true that readers may classify it as a terrifying monster due to the appearance of alien thinking, thus ignoring the great sense of humor.

This is why I am only interested in works and not in author biographies. Especially people in the field of literature always feel that if creation is not for life, then life is for creation. Hey, so what is utilitarian for? Let's first tell the story of the scientist: It is rumored that Schrödinger's equation was written on the bed of his mistress in the seaside villa while on vacation. Anyway, the old man has been dead for so many years, how about taking this rumor seriously? Come on, dear gentlemen and ladies, let us analyze the social significance of quantum mechanics, or should we encourage scientists to have more affair to inspire inspiration? Ah, there are a few outrageous people over there, yes, it's you, please, don't bully Yang Zhenning anymore.

There is also Kafka, right? Just like 2 PAC and BIGGY after they died in a gang revenge, they kept hanging their names and helped the neighbors in the neighborhood to publish nine and ten discs. There was a seaside Kafka in the bookstore. There is a love history of Kafka and Kafka with the girls and the pink-scented book cover... Is it easy for someone to write a big bug? Drinking milk to drink tuberculosis is bad enough, please put down his name and soothe the soul of the work.

What did NAKED LUNCH say? I watched it a year or two ago. It’s something mysterious in itself, but it also has English subtitles. After I was shocked a bit (now I realized I was so sentimental, damn), the plot almost forgot everything. I watched Calvino some time ago. "Winter Night Walker" suddenly remembered, it was about modern creation. There are a lot of typewriters inside, all of which are bugs or aliens. The writers knock and knock on them, and then pull out many endless conspiracies. It feels like a group of people are lost in drugs or lost in the works. This kind of scene is very happy, similar to the mood of gloating. Fortunately (unfortunately), this kind of scene is only a small minority in China. I said you guys, it’s very unacceptable to have some "unmarginal" humor if you don't have a good life.

Yes, it shouldn't be, let me review. Let's stop here today. By the way, I would like to introduce this NAKED LUNCH, which is quite fun.

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Extended Reading

Naked Lunch quotes

  • Yves Cloquet: I've seen you around, but I had no idea you were queer.

    Bill Lee: Queer?

    Yves Cloquet: [leers] I saw you arrive with those three Interzone boys. What an entrance. You all looked very... familiar with each other.

    Bill Lee: [gulps] Queer. A curse. Been in our family for generations. The Lees have always been perverts. I shall never forget the unspeakable horror that froze the lymph in my glands when the baneful word seared my reeling brain - I was a homosexual. I thought of the painted simpering female impersonators I'd seen in a Baltimore nightclub. Could it be possible I was one of those subhuman things? I walked the streets in a daze like a man with a light concussion. I would've destroyed myself. And a wise old queen - Bobo, we called her - taught me that I had a duty to live and bear my burden proudly for all to see. Poor Bobo came to a sticky end - he was riding in the Duke Devanche's Hispano Suissa when his falling hemorrhoids blew out of the car and wrapped around the rear wheel. He was completely gutted leaving an empty shell sitting there on the giraffe skin upholstry. Even the eyes and the brain went with a horrible "shlupping" sound. The Duke says he would carry that ghastly "shlup" with him to his mausoleum.

  • Bill Lee: Did I ever tell you about the man who taught his asshole to talk? His whole abdomen would move up and down you dig farting out the words. It was unlike anything I had ever heard. This asshole talk had sort of a gut frequency. It hit you right down there like you gotta go. You know when the old colon gives you the elbow and it feels sorta cold inside, and you know all you have to do is turn loose? Well this talking hit you right down there, a bubbly, thick stagnant sound, a sound you could smell. This man worked for a carnival you dig, and to start with it was like a novelty ventriliquist act. Real funny, too, at first. He had a number he called The Better Ole that was a scream, I tell you. I forget most of it but it was clever. Like, "Oh I say, are you still down there, old thing?" "Nah I had to go relieve myself." After a while the asshole started talking on its own. He would go in without anything prepared and his asshole would ad-lib and toss the gags back at him every time. Then it developed sort of teeth-like little raspy in-curving hooks and start eating. He thought this was cute at first and built an act around it, but the asshole would eat its way through his pants and start talking on the street, shouting out it wanted equal rights. It would get drunk, too, and have crying jags nobody loved it and it wanted to be kissed same as any other mouth. Finally it talked all the time day and night, you could hear him for blocks screaming at it to shut up, and beating it with his fist, and sticking candles up it, but nothing did any good and the asshole said to him, "It is you who will shut up in the end. Not me. Because we dont need you around here any more. I can talk and eat AND shit." After that he began waking up in the morning with a transparent jelly like a tadpoles tail all over his mouth. This jelly was what the scientists call un-D.T., Undifferentiated Tissue, which can grow into any kind of flesh on the human body. He would tear it off his mouth and the pieces would stick to his hands like burning gasoline jelly and grow there, grow anywhere on him a glob of it fell. So finally his mouth sealed over, and the whole head would have have amputated spontaneous - except for the EYES you dig. Thats one thing the asshole COULDN'T do was see. It needed the eyes. But nerve connections were blocked and infiltrated and atrophied so the brain couldnt give orders any more. It was trapped in the skull, sealed off. For a while you could see the silent, helpless suffering of the brain behind the eyes, then finally the brain must have died, because the eyes WENT OUT, and there was no more feeling in them than a crabs eyes on the end of a stalk.