2 August 1996, Milano, excerpt to Anna Cypra

Sunday, 6 July 2003

I had dreams last night that I liked very much. Angels and Samurai—Seraphim and Ninja. “…How long has it been since we’ve eaten together? Had rice and mice…”

I’ve been watching more executions on teevee. Today it was the Chinese. I looked away, knowing full well what I was about to see, and then some part of me made me look. Was it pain or pleasure? Where does knowledge fall in that canyon? What drove me to need to see that row of people on their knees shot in the backs of the heads; bilging rivers of their lives out of their mouths as they fell? Of the two ways humans murder I’m not sure which I find more disturbing but this kind is more frightening. Because it is so casual that it could be lurking anywhere. A passionate murder is seen coming; usually even participated in. An execution like this is not seen coming. A border shifts somewhere and suddenly you are undesirable.

…Ah, I was supposed to be manufacturing something besides small talk. What is it I can say?

The desire for a girl without skin. The desire for an evil that is so natural it doesn’t seem it. To be submerged into a lacking. A cardinal lack of pain. With an automatic return ticket lest the drug be overpowering. Would you trade albatrosses? I think not. Even our secret pains make us special.

digg stumbleupon del.icio.us reddit Fark Technorati Faves