Came ill, sans saints

"It's my business to catch the overtones of the soul, and you won't find those in a parvenu set of artificial streets on made land."

 

What don't you know?

 

"In a strange city lying alone

Far down within the dim west

Where the good and the bad and the worst and the best

Have gone to their eternal rest"

 

Larval apes stow their monsterous casings back into the closet, having collected the moles in the disorganization, the midnight veil lifted and kneeled shut another year, oh dearly beloved, did you remember to compliment that queer little brat-a-tat-tat from next door's whore with the tricorne hat urning ricks, rolling stoned, massing the gathering, magic treating a card boarded wind owes into the bellyache of the beast? Historiologically you're a nape chafed adderally, ring-a-ding-ding-a-ling the band back together again for one last score last haul last chance to see, you can do anything you pout your mined to crypt o' currents, see?, but nothing edgy or risqué, touchy or passé, you digger? Gold stars align for thee in offense, don't get defensive about your institutional prejudiss and prejudat, loose the cannon on other, come patriots, rally behind the energized baseline is one hundred by definition, but what monster soiled the bedsheets in whose eyes you're an unspeaking posteriority?

"The waves have now a redder glow--

The hours are breathing faint and low--"

Hyper! Venti! Late! Weight, don't! It gives me anxietease!

"But light from out the lurid seas

Streams up the turrets silently--"

What do they know? Retreat? No, surrender! Render unto theses on the wrongs of man

"There open fanes and gaping graves

Yawn level with the luminous waves"

 

made to rock the boat but not the draft

 

"But not the riches there that lie

In each idol's diamond eye"

diamond, mind your manners or we'll rough you down to size.

"Not the gayly-jewell'd dead

Tempt the waters from their bed;"

What don't you know?

"In various ways throughout this book I’ve tried to suggest that the horror story is in many ways an optimistic, upbeat experience; that it is often the tough mind’s way of coping with terrible problems which may not be supernatural at all but perfectly real. Paranoia may be the last and strongest bastion of such an optimistic view -- it is the mind crying out, "Something rational and understandable is going on here! These things do not just happen!""

 

What don't you know? "We have a new buzzword too, for anyone who admires competence, knowledge, learning and skill, and who wishes to spread it around. People like that are called 'elitist'"

 

[Their] "shrines, and palaces, and towers,

(Time-eaten towers that tremble not!)

Resemble nothing that is ours"

Nothing, that is, ours is harder than anyone else says. Simony many my need, it's a rich man's woe

"No rays from the holy heaven come down

On the long night-time of that town"

So instead purge a tory? You've "crossed the line to find the money's on the other side"

 

What don't you know?

"So blend the turrets and shadows there

That all seem pendulous in air,

While, from a proud tower in the town

Death looks gigantically down"

What don't you know? Hung up your facade last night everlasting, only to mask yourself with an ACME umbrella, but some anvils need to be dropped you from the act of god-given rights of man and cities of gods justify war of Kultur, all appropriation.

But every currency devalues if debased.

The university of human experience abhors a vacuum.

What don't you know?

"The Carriage held but just Ourselves--

And Immortality"

 

Not that! Never that, anything but that

"who gnaws hungrily in inconceivable, unlighted chambers beyond time and space amidst the muffled, maddening beating of vile drums and the thin monotonous whine of accursed flutes"

Thou art god, but most gods "would rather die than think -- in fact, they do so." Sail away, or in loco flow. Are you afraid of the dark? Better to be afraid of the light-skinned.

"want me to save the world? I'm just a little girl" can do math with a can do attitude adjustment, can do sci entsagen to entgegen mann to ease the stress of positioning, can do historevisionism, can do engineering socially net worked over

"Around, by lifting winds forgot,

Resignedly beneath the sky

The melancholy waters lie"

Maybe the ivory trade ban sapped the tower, or maybe the ivory grin of the ides of marcher barons resembles all too closely your own, deeper beneath the layers of foundation of civilization

"whiles I see lives the gashes do better upon them"

I fear you played most foully for it all makes sense until you use your senses. What don't you know?

"Whence flow the aimless waves whose chance combining
Gives each frail cosmos its eternal law"?

Just, it's departmental, this one deals with crimes against the over-easy, this one with melanocities on a hill, this one with RUR all poor, the one on the west coast plans wooden holiday party hats keeping each brain warm against the chill above the clouds, above the air, above the there

"Thirty thousand mighty suns shone down in a soul-searing splendor that was more frighteningly cold in its awful indifference than the bitter wind that shivered across the cold, horribly bleak world."

You're so above it all, but what don't you know? The witching hour descends and lifts, the certainty of human insufficiency drowned in cock, tails and corny syrupy platyhelminthic 'tudes, études in scarlet lettering, all canalizing the dribble of thought away from self imp prove ment of the perverse city of delusion where we do not kill we only use their own aggression against them and anyway who do they think they are and certainly "I might and you might but neither of us do though and neither of us will" to power incarnate but never inmentate your fill and still want more to fill you up, never be enough to fill you up, never be enough to fill you up the hill to fetch beyond the pale beyond the veil beyond the hell of knowing everything you don't know-it-all boils down to ACTION! roll camera obscurah-rah-rah, go team, there is no I, no lonely perversity in the mob's scrutability

"And when, amid no earthly moans,

Down, down that town shall settle hence,

Hell, rising from a thousand thrones,

Shall do it reverence."