Wednesday, May 18, 2011

Pynchon on Leopold's Congo

Here is that Pynchon passage on page 317 of my paperback edition of Gravity's Rainbow: Oh, no. Colonies are much, much more. Colonies are the outhouses of the European soul, where a fellow can let his pants down and relax, and enjoy the smell of his own sh-!-t. Where he can fall on his slender prey roaring as loud as he feels like, and guzzle her blood with open joy. Eh? Where he can just wallow and rut and let himself go in a softness, a receptive darkness of limbs, of hair as woolly as the hair on his own forbidden genitals. Where the poppy, and cannabis and coca grow full and green, and not to the colors and style of death, as do ergot and agaric, the blight and fungus native to Europe. Christian Europe was always death, Karl, death and repression. Out and down in the colonies, life can be indulged, life and sensuality in all its forms, with no harm done to the Metropolis, nothing to soil those cathedrals, white marble statues, noble thoughts. . . . No word ever gets back. The silences down here are vast enough to absorb all behavior, no matter how dirty, how animal it gets....


New meaning of IMF - I Maid F'er

If THIS doesn't go viral in the tasteless and tacky world of cyberspace then "God didn't make little green apples and it don't rain in Indianapolis in the summertime."

If you believe in aid to Africa then won't you please post this all in your status and keep it for one hour?

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