/lit/ - Literature

The brain produces thought like the liver produces bile. It is dripping down the walls, forming dark black mold on the crowning, seeping into the mattresses that lie on the ground. I’m writing this in the dark heat of my room. I’ve closed the blinds, and the door, and I don’t eat, and I barely sleep. I have to remind myself, more and more often, of the small moments of meaning. Everything is empty, bone white, and silent.
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"This won't give you nightmares, will it?" No. "I should have asked."
Then she said, "You know when you sleep with your arms above your head, and when you wake up, they're paralyzed?"
Pink gloves for the kids. Black gloves for the invols. Blues when we just want to get through it. Those, most often. When it’s night, and when we’re almost to the hospital, I roll down the driver’s window and rest my arm on the doorframe, pushing the drops of rain with an outstretched finger. I hear her, in the back of the truck, sticking to her script, and when I look back, while stopped at a red light, she’s typing. Pink gloves. The smell of the wind and the wet concrete, sharp cold and the heater core.

This was the last moment I was different. When morning came I was disassociated, hard to reach. I found it hard to hear when people said my name. I became distant, quiet, and then I was indifferent, and everything was empty, bone white, and silent.

Been studying the philosophy of Friedrich Wilhelm Nietzsche for the past five years and am about to publish substantial work on him. AMA.

>>10345335

What did you think of theis mnolouge in The Turin Horse?

> Bernard: “I’ve run out of palinka. Would you give me a bottle?”
Ohlsdorfer: “Give him some… Why didn’t you go into town?"
B: "The wind’s blown it away."
O: "How come?"
B: "It’s gone to ruin."
O: "Why would it go to ruin?"
B: "Because everything’s in ruins, everything’s been degraded, but I could say that they’ve ruined and degraded everything. Because this is not some kind of cataclysm, coming about with so-called innocent human aid. On the contrary, it’s about man’s own judgement over his own self, which of course God has a hand in, or dare I say: takes part in. And whatever he takes part in is the most ghastly creation that you can imagine. Because you see the world has been debased. So it doesn’t matter what I say because everything has been debased that they’ve acquired and since they’ve acquired everything in a sneaky, underhand fight, they’ve debased everything. Because whatever they touch – and they touch everything – they’ve debased. This is the way it was until the final victory. Until the triumphant end. Acquire debase, debase, acquire. Or I can put it differently if you like: to touch, debase and thereby acquire, or touch, acquire and thereby debase. It’s been going on like this for centuries. On, on, and on. This and only this, sometimes on the sly, sometimes rudely, sometimes gently, sometimes brutally but it has been going on and on. Yet only in one way, like a rat attacks from ambush. Because for this perfect victory it was also essential that the other side… That is, everything that’s excellent, great in some way and noble should not engage in any kind of fight.