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Who loves ya, baby?
One of the other things I wanted to do, something I learned from Prynne, was point out the way capitalism colonises the language of nature. Bank, stream, branch, and here Burroughs is talking about a similar colonisation of colour.
The way language gets manipulated and how effective it can be is pretty fascinating/terrifying, torture becomes "enhanced interrogation techniques"; I read a review of Bleeding Edge which suggested that Pynchon's use of the term '11 September' was a conscious decision to duck what's now a brand, a slogan and a narrative in "9/11".
 

luka

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It's a shame Barty didn't have the patience to read this book I reckon he would have got something out of it if he stuck to it maybe he's got add though? A lot of drummers have they say.
 

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Who loves ya, baby?
I'm sure I've noticed a few fragments of Joyce and Eliot in there, there was one bit where it said "... all the living and the dead... " which I assumed was from the end of The Dead and the 'fear in a handful of dust' line is def. in there somewhere, he cuts it up at least twice.
 

luka

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There's huge amounts of Eliot. They're from the same town. Eliot is the major influence and yes, it's cut up in there too.
 

luka

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Corpsey has some weird thing about modern literature. It doesn't compute. His software needs updating. I'd like to know what books he studied at university at undergrad and postgrad.
 

luka

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You're a bit like corpse in some ways but you've got much more up to date taste in literature which is nice. A later model.
 

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Who loves ya, baby?
We should put old fashioned floral covers on loads of modern books, hide them on his shelves and trick him into reading them.
 

luka

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:crylarf::crylarf::crylarf::crylarf::crylarf::crylarf::crylarf::crylarf:

A primrose pressed between the pages. A fading memory of someone's perfect summer. A lovers gift, before the inevitable betrayal.
 

luka

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Ah he's fucked off now. We needed an indignant response for it to be banter. A reaction. Feels too much like bullying when they just slink off. You start feeling guilty about it.
 

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Who loves ya, baby?
I finished it last night. The thing about the tanks at "blood temperature" sticks out, losing the sense of one's body and the outline of it, merging with what's in the tank with you.
 
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