American planes, full of holes and wounded men and corpses took off backwards from an airfield in England. When they were over France, some German fighters joined them, always flying backwards, sucked bullets and shell fragments from some of the planes and pilots. They did the same with some American bombers destroyed, who were on the ground and then took off back to join the training.
The formation flew backwards and flew over a German city in flames. I bombers opened their bomb bay doors, exerted a miraculous magnetism which shrunk the fires, gathered them into cylindrical steel containers, and lifted the containers until they disappear into the bellies of the planes. The containers were stored neatly in racks. The Germans below had miraculous devices of, which were long steel tubes. They used them to suck more fragments from the crewmen and planes. But there were still wounded Americans, and some bomber was severely damaged. Over France, though, German fighters came back up again, everyone and everything new.
[Kurt Vonnegut, Slaughterhouse 5]
Upper Side effects literature are often unpredictable.
When caught by surprise by a page of Hi-L (in the wake of Hi-Fi, Hi-Fun, Hi-Tech, Hi-Mum) I have an upward pressure, tachycardia and a fall in instantaneous attention.
I look around for someone to say hey you look , read here without even having finished reading there, because the Hi-L recognize it after just three lines. I never usually no one around: you are either in bed or on the train or in situations where there are no friendly eyes that twinkle. I begin to blink, it makes me tick, I settle scarf, underpants crooked in the hole, I hunt in the bag and try something. Then I stop, relax and pretend I smile at the window. After a full minute I realize that I have the bib because I fall a drop of saliva on the paper. If I train I hope I have not seen anyone and start fiddling with a pencil to mark them with personal codes (vd here, arrow, bulb, eye, Hi-L) pages are disarming to me under his nose. If you are in bed usually say that shit dear, and I clean shit with his elbow. If the flap is thick around the pillow or the exchange with the next so that no one sleeps there. Then finish reading, sketch an attempt to save a few lines, I am an ear to the book and closes it. Then usually I can not sleep. If it's day, passed the Rock of Hi-L I start to read but I do not remember what happened before the pages of Hi-L, which function as a sort of Reset.
Until thrown them away, the pages of The Hi-infect the mind and prevent the reader to absorb more useful data. So, since this weekend I could use my brain to interact with other human beings, try to place here the words of that good old Kurt, once again, try to dissuade me from my mission of Aristotelian social animal.
0 comments:
Post a Comment