THIS IS A READ-ONLY ARCHIVE FROM THE SORABJI.COM MESSAGE BOARDS (1995-2016). |
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I love the way the beat sort of turns itself inside out...it's wonderful. I've been lusting after this guy from Germany. "Flowers on the razor wire" He's got this charming Kafka-esque alienation about him. I think he hates being big and German and intimidating...he can't seem to stop apologizing for it. and the charmingly unsettling habit of suddenly uttering truths about the nature of humanity and the cruelty of society...he does this for no apparent reason and with no connection to the conversation. "I'm lying on my back/ The stars look all too near", I'm still thinking of the desert. I think I mentioned that...blue eyes framed by his face, framed by stars you could almost touch...nothing but sand for miles...I used to work with him...I want to be somewhere where there's nobody else. "Her lovers queued up in the hallway/ I heard them scratching at the door/ I tried to tell her about Marx and Engels, God and angels/ I don't really know what for/ But she looked good in ribbons" Working on the computer, numbers upon numbers upon numbers (I love numbers...calculus is better than sex, but the meatbod has needs)...and discussing politics & philosophy...I'm a leftist..he has some pretty strong feeelings abt. the way East Germany was run during its Communist period...I have issues with McCarthyism...we agree that the Cold War destroyed the dialectic in both systems, which is why they ended up so bad. (I don't even know if he's interested...Europeans are too fucking subtle...or maybe I'm just confused b/c the cultural cues are different. it's b/c it's all just wishful thinking, though) |