Maxine recoils, only partly out of the classic accountant’s allergy to real folding money.
What’s known as bleeding-edge technology,” sez Lucas. “No proven use, high risk, something only early-adoption addicts feel comfortable with.
If they can get you asking the wrong questions, they don’t have to worry about answers.
It all comes down, as it must, to the desires of individual men. Oh, and women too of course, bless their empty little heads.
There is no real direction here, neither lines of power nor cooperation. Decisions are never really made – at best they manage to emerge, from a chaos of peeves, whims, hallucinations and all around assholery.
Why should things be easy to understand?
All the animals, the plants, the minerals, even other kinds of men, are being broken and reassembled every day, to preserve an elite few, who are the loudest to theorize on freedom, but the least free of all.
Murphy’s Law, that brash proletarian restatement of Godel’s Theorem...
Someday it’ll all be done by machine. Information machines.
Let the peace of this day be here tomorrow when I wake up.
Time is never wasted if you remember to bring along something to read.
Every weirdo in the world is on my wavelength.
Everybody gets told to write about what they know. The trouble with many of us is that at the earlier stages of life we think we know everything- or to put it more usefully, we are often unaware of the scope and structure of our ignorance.
Oh, this beer here is cold, cold and hop-bitter, no point coming up for air, gulp, till it’s all – hahhhh.
A screaming comes across the sky.
Not me, paranoia’s the garlic in life’s kitchen, right, you can never have too much.
Idle dreaming is often of the essence of what we do.
Let me be unambiguous. I prefer not to be photographed.
If there is something comforting – religious, if you want – about paranoia, there is still also anti-paranoia, where nothing is connected to anything, a condition not many of us can bear for long.
The Lord’s angel, Gebrail, dictated the Koran to Mohammed the Lord’s Prophet. What a joke if all that holy book were only twenty-three years of listening to the desert. A desert which has no voice.