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What if one were to want to hunt for these hidden presences? You can’t just rummage around like you’re at a yard sale. You have to listen. You have to pay attention. There are certain things you can’t look at directly. You need to trick them into revealing themselves. That’s what we’re doing with Walter, Jaz. We’re juxtaposing things, listening for echoes. It’s not some silly cybernetic dream of command and control, modeling the whole world so you can predict the outcome. It’s certainly not a theory of everything. I don’t have a theory of any kind. What I have is far more profound.’ ‘What’s that?’ ‘A sense of humor.’ Jaz looked at him, trying to find a clue in his gaunt face, in the clear gray eyes watching him with such - what? Amusement? Condescension? There was something about the man which brought on a sort of hermeneutic despair. He was a forest of signs. ‘We’re hunting for jokes.’ Bachman spoke slowly, as if to a child. ‘Parapraxes. Cosmic slips of the tongue. They’re the key to the locked door. They’ll help us discover it.’ ‘Discover what?’ ‘The face of God. What else would we be looking for? ↗
Penso che sia incredibile come cambia tutto quando incontri la persona che ami, incredibile quanto velocemente quel a persona ti possa bastare. Ti senti avvolto e riscaldato dal pensiero di lei, tutto diventa più leggero, anche se sei al lavoro e sono le quattro e venti del pomeriggio e fuori piove. Sei in macchina in autostrada, sei stanco, i vestiti ti stanno scomodi, ma pensi a lei e sorridi da solo, poi ti guardi nel o specchietto per vedere se sei abbastanza bel o per lei. Mandi messaggi e se non ti risponde subito è perché è in riunione o non ha sentito, certo non perché non ha voglia. È venerdì sera, la vedi e pensi che sei fortunato perché per due giorni è tutta tua. È tua a colazione, è tua dopo pranzo nel letto, mentre cerchi di vedere un film. Ti dice che martedì sera le va di cucinare per te e che ti aspetta a casa verso le nove, e tu al e otto e quarantacinque fai le scale di casa sua a due gradini al a volta, al egro e innamorato, perché hai voglia di baciarla e di sentire il suo odore. Quando entri in casa sua c’è già un buon profumo e non sai trovare le parole per dire a te stesso quanto sei felice, e quando sei solo in bagno ti guardi al o specchio e ti fai i complimenti per quanto lei è bela. ↗
While stationed in Fort Jackson, I experienced racial prejudice for the first time and came to the understanding that humans are not born with prejudice, but learn prejudice. Back home in South Dakota, I only knew one black American. The Scandinavians in my community treated him just like any other Swede; my family considered him a friend. My parents taught me, and I believed that all men are equal because God created all men in His image. One day during a week end furlough, I boarded a crowded city bus. As I walked down the aisle, I looked for an open seat. Looking towards the rear of the bus, I noticed three huge, young black men sitting on a bench in the back. I decided to squeeze onto the bench with them. As I sat down, a woman said in a very loud voice, "What is that white soldier doing in our part of the bus?" Neither my life experiences nor my education prepared me for what I experienced walking the streets of Fort Jackson. I saw water fountains for whites only, barbershops for blacks only, and separation for most aspects of Southern living. I discovered that the feelings of prejudice ran deeply amongst many of the people that we encountered. In fact, the blacks even trained separately from the whites during our military preparation, even though we all worked towards defending the United States of America. ↗
#black-americans #black-soldiers #bus-segregation #fort-jackson #racial-prejudice
He's a man," Themla said. "I guess that explains it." "Hairy, Neanderthalic," Thelma said, "perpetually half-crazed from excessive levels of testosterone, plagued by racial memories of the lost glory of mammoth-hunting expeditions - they're all alike. ↗
#mammoth #masculinity #men #men
Call it what you like: The Upper Sky, the Unmade, even the Empyrean. Men have given it so many names over the course of history. But those names don't really matter, in the end. It's the unchanging matter. A place without qualities. Neither hot nor cold, wet nor dry. The aether remains while all else shifts and fades...The aether is the opposite of creation. It's always there, invisible but burning bright. It's the pale web that holds the universe together. ↗
You broke a man today. Doesn't that affect you at all? These are lives, not pieces in a chess game with your uncle.' 'You're wrong. We are on my uncle's board and these men are all his pieces.' 'Then each time you move one of them, you can congratulate yourself on how much like him you are. ↗
A minute or two more and Orlant disengaged, and swore. 'Are you going to fight me or not?' You said we were sparring,' said Damen, neutrally. Orlant flung down his sword, took two steps off to one of the watching men, and pulled from its sheath thirty inches of polished steel straightsword, which without preamble he returned to swing with killing speed at Damen's neck. ↗
The shock of collision was like the smashing of boulders in the landslide at Nesson. Damen felt the familiar battering shudder, the sudden shift in scale as the panorama of the charge was abruptly replaced by the slam of muscle against metal, of horse and man impacting at speed. Nothing could be heard over the crashing, the roars of men, both sides warping and threatening to rupture, regular lines and upright banners replaced by a heaving, struggling mass. Horses slipped, then regained their footing; others fell, slashed or speared through. ↗
