Death glided by, shadowless, among the empties on the grass.
Non-Masons stay pretty much in the dark about What Goes On, though now and then something jumps out, exposes itself, jumps giggling back again, leaving you with few details but a lot of Awful Suspicions. Some.
The Stars are so close you won’t need a Telescope.” “The Fish jump into your Arms. The Indians know Magick.” “We’ll go there. We’ll live there.” “We’ll fish there. And you too.
Doc went automotively groping in this weirdness east on Olympic, trying not to flinch at what came popping up out of the gloom in the way of city buses and pedestrians in altered states of consciousness.
Proverbs for Paranoids, 2: The innocence of the creatures is in inverse proportion to the immorality of the Master.
In the last pocket of darkness before the glare of Beachfront Drive, they came to a pause, a timeless pedestrian gesture in these parts that usually announced a kiss or at least a grabbed ass.
That joyful feelin’ when-you’re up-on the ceilin.
Westside Hochdeutsch mafia, biggest of the big, construction, savings and loans, untaxed billions stashed under an Alp someplace, technically Jewish but wants to be a Nazi, becomes exercised often to the point of violence at those who forget to spell his name with two n’s. What’s he to you?
Aah, God help us, how sleazy is it, and how has it come to this? a rented palace, a denial of the passage of time, a mogul on the black-diamond slopes of the IT sector thinks he’s a rock star.
How’s that, Motella.” “Ooh, like wondering how it must be, getting into bed with somebody, who has another person’s name? tattooed on his body?” “No problem unless all you do in bed is read,” muttered Lourdes.
For recessional music there’s “Closing Time” by Semisonic, a four-chord farewell to the old century.
For about ten minutes the vengeful crew proceed to maim, strangle, poison, burn, stomp, blind and otherwise have at Pasquale, while he describes intimately his varied sensations for our enjoyment.
They lived for different futures, but they were each other’s unrecognized halves, and what fascination between them did come to pass was lit up, beyond question, with grace.
He didn’t know whether he was planning seduction, or combat, – these, at fourteen, being the only categories of Pleasure he recogniz’d.
For it was now like walking among matrices of a great digital computer, the zeroes and ones twinned above, hanging like balanced mobiles right and left, ahead, thick, maybe endless. Behind the hieroglyphic streets there would either be a transcendent meaning, or only the earth.
Ruins he goes daily to look in are each a sermon on vanity.
A viewing population brought back to its default state, dumb struck, undefended, scared shitless.
For many people laughing is a way of being loud without having to say a thing.
Neither of them had ever had much interest in breaking each other’s heart.
Out of the blackness of the ward, a half-open file drawer of pain each bed a folder, come cries, struck cries, as from cold metal.