22 December 2007

My computer is ruined, crushed, burnt to a crisp, and all inside was arsoned away as if it were really nothing more than the leaves of paper which it all started as being. Pages all , in a moment went away, and without the romance of a single crackle or a swirl of white smoke. Now, these are the days of effortless destruction.

And amid this whole thing, I find myself becoming more admiring of Magna, which I thought would never happen. I saw a documentary about magna on showtime and found it all very interesting and well made. I also wish I had a book I had as a kid, from which I stole much of my ideas about art and all, a book bought by my dad called THE BOOK OF WONDERS. It was an ancient book back then, written and published in 1933, and bought by my immigrant pop back in the days when metropolis was seen as being an end in itself, and when people thought the world would be saved by crome and bronze and steam pipes. It was out of that book where mister stupendous and everything else I believe in came out, like a psalm of technology.But eventually, Uncle Hitler would apear with his usual germanic pervesrions and his usual german soot, and america would win and become a house of ubermenches itself, and would be a empire of plastic, leaveing the republic of crome and steam and red lipped brunettes away for good.

Labels: , , ,