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The Recognitions by William Gaddis
“Why do you treat me as they do, as though I were exactly what I want to be. Why do we treat people that way?”
William Gaddis
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The Recognitions by William Gaddis
“How real is any of the past, being every moment revalued to make the present possible...”
William Gaddis
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JR by William Gaddis
“-Put on the lights there, now. Before we go any further here, has it ever occurred to any of you that all this is simply one grand misunderstanding? Since you're not here to learn anything, but to be taught so you can pass these tests, knowledge has to be organized so it can be taught, and it has to be reduced to information so it can be organized do you follow that? In other words this leads you to assume that organization is an inherent property of knowledge itself, and that disorder and chaos are simply irrelevant forces that threaten it from outside. In fact it's exactly the opposite. Order is simply a thin, perilous condition we try to impose on the basic reality of chaos...”
William Gaddis
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Encyclopedia of Genetic Disorders and Birth Defects by James Wynbrandt
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Flamingos by Grant Maierhofer
Flamingos
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The Persistence of Crows by Grant Maierhofer
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More of dajai2345's books…
“The subject of theory can no longer affect to stand outside the process it describes: it is integrated as an immanent machine part in an open ended experimentation that is inextricable from capital’s continuous scrambling of its own limits—which operates via the reprocessing of the actual through its virtual futures, dissolving all bulwarks that would preserve the past.”
Robin Mackay, #Accelerate: The Accelerationist Reader

Gary Lutz
“A sentence has to sound as if it has always existed, as if cribbed from everyone else’s inner history ever—from everything you were never to be privy to. It should hit you not as news but as a reminder of what you now wish you never knew.”
Gary Lutz

Juan Goytisolo
“Time was a blind rider nobody could unsaddle. As he galloped, he ravaged all that seemed enduring, transformed landscapes, reduced dreams to ashes.”
Juan Goytisolo, The Blind Rider

Barry Hannah
“Memory, the whole lying opera of it, is killing me now.”
Barry Hannah, Airships

Anna Kavan
“There is some quite trivial, distant noise; a sound, moreover, which has nothin to do with me, to which there is not the slightest need for me to pay any attention; yet it suffices to wake me, and in no gentle way, either, but savagely, violently, shockingly, like an air raid alarm. The wheels, my masters, are already vibrating with incipient motion; the whole mechanism is preparing to begin the monotonous, hateful functioning of which I am the dispirited slave.

I began to feel that if I did not succeed in breaking out of the loathsome circle I should suddenly become mad, scream, perpetrate some shocking act of violence in the open street. But worst of all was the knowledge that the laws of my temperament would forbid me even a relief of this kind. I was inexorably imprisoned behind my own determination to display no emotion whatever.

Now I saw that I was in a street which I did not know very well. Night had fallen, the lights glowed mistily through a thin haze.

It was as though, in some mysterious way, I had become the central point around which the night scene revolved. People walking on the pavement looked at me as they passed. Some with pity, some with detached interest, some with more morbid curiosity. Some appeared to make small, concealed sights, but whether these were intended for warning or encouragement I could not be sure. The windows lighted or unlighted, were like eyes more or less piercing, but all focused upon me. The houses, the traffic, everything in sight, seemed to be watching to see what I would do.

To wait — with no living soul in whom to confide one's doubt, one's fears, one's relentless hope. Some secret court must have tried and condemned me, unheard, to this heavy sentence.

Coiling itself round me it knows I cannot escape. Imprisoned in its very fabric, I am like a small worm, a parasite, which the host harbors not altogether unwillingly.

A human being can only endure depression up to a certain point. When this point of saturation is reached it becomes necessary for him to discover some element of pleasure. No matter how humble or on how low a level, in his environment if he is to go on living at all.”
Anna Kavan, Asylum Piece

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