Ich wiederhole, wiederhole nachdrücklich: alle unmittelbaren und alle Tatmenschen sind ja nur tätig, weil sie stumpfsinnig und beschränkt sind. Wie sich das erklären läßt? Folgendermaßen: Infolge ihrer Beschränktheit nehmen sie die augenscheinlichen und zweitrangigen Ursachen für die primären und lassen sich auf diese Weise rascher und leichter als die anderen überzeugen, daß sie einen unanfechtbaren Grund für ihre Tätigkeit gefunden haben; damit geben sie sich zufrieden, und das ist die Hauptsache. Denn, um eine Tätigkeit zu beginnen, muß man restlos beruhigt und aller Zweifel enthoben sein. Nun, wie soll ich zum Beispiel mich beruhigen?
Fjodor Dostojewskij: Aufzeichnungen aus dem Kellerloch. Reclam, Stuttgart 1984. S. 19. (via brainexpectingrain)

(via ratlosnetzwerk)

[…] that’s the attitude for the Bard, the Zen Lunacy bard of old desert paths, see the whole thing is a world full of rucksack wanderers, Dharma Bums refusing to subscribe to the general demand that they consume production and therefore have to work for the privilege of consuming, all that crap they didn’t really want anyway such as refrigerators, TV sets, cars, […] all of them imprisoned in a system of work, produce, consume, work, produce, consume, I see a vision of a great rucksack revolution thousands or even millions of young Americans wandering around with rucksacks, going up to mountains to pray, making children laugh and old men glad, making young girls happy and old girls happier, all of ‘em Zen Lunatics who go about writing poems that happen to appear in their heads for no reason and also by being kind and also by strange unexpected acts keep giving visions of eternal freedom to everybody and to all living creatures […]
Jack Kerouac: The Dharma Bums, 1958.
Ich bin, ich existiere, ich denke, also bin ich; ich bin weil ich denke, warum denke ich? Ich will nicht mehr denken, ich bin, weil ich denke, daß ich nicht sein will, ich denke, daß ich…weil…puh!
[Jean-Paul Sartre: Der Ekel] (via negationdernegation)

neology:

GPOY: wm aktuell.

Sie haben mich nicht nur nicht eingeladen, ich habe auch abgesagt.
Ringelnatz (via neology)
noxe: Bela Lugosi as Jesus. 
Bauhaus dazu: “Bela Lugosi’s dead … undead, undead, undead […]”
frohe ostern und so!

noxe: Bela Lugosi as Jesus. 

Bauhaus dazu: “Bela Lugosi’s dead … undead, undead, undead […]”

frohe ostern und so!

Doch stille sammelt im Weidengrund
Rotes Gewölk, darin ein zürnender Gott wohnt
Das vergoßne Blut sich, mondne Kühle;
Alle Straßen münden in schwarze Verwesung.
Georg Trakl:Grodek
Manto: Den lieb’ ich, der Unmögliches begehrt.
Goethe: Faust II - Der Tragödie zweiter Teil.
When one considers to what an extent our faith in the infallible beneficence of technical progress has already waned, the fusion which Dick envisages between culture and nature, between the instrument and its basis, by virtue of which it acquires the aggressive character of a malignant neoplasm, no longer seems merely sheer fantasy. This is not to say that Dick is predicting any concrete future. The disintegrating worlds of his stories, as it were inversions of Genesis, order returning to Chaos—this is not so much the future foreseen as it is future shock, not straightforwardly expressed but embodied in fictional reality, it is an objectivized projection of the fears and fascinations proper to the human individual in our times.
Stanislaw Lem: Philip K. Dick: A Visionary Among the Charlatans.
Because at their best, experiencing these works is like spening a month in the high Alps. You return thinner, stronger. You’ve grown accustomed to silence and thus learned of an inner voice which has been talking, urgent but unheard, a long time. You have less patience now with the white noise of the world, but that will work to your advantage.
From Jonathan Carroll’s introduction to Signal to Noise.

Small Town Inertia : David : Postcards from the black by J A Mortram

One of the strangest things is waking up from a dream. In dreams I can still see. I can see everything. I wake and feel I can still see for a time, then the black seeps in and I realise I am awake and in darkness again, where the reality used to be filled with sight, now my dreams are. Where sleep was without light, now that’s my waking life. Everything is upside down. Now being awake is like the dream. My awake nightmare.
[…] there is no future, […] ‘the present is throwing up so many options, so many alternatives, that it contains the possibilities of any future right now. You can have tomorrow today. And the notion of the future as a sort of programmatic device … a compass bearing … a destination that we are moving towards psychologically and physically … is rather outdated.’
J. G. Ballard: Extreme Metaphors — Collected Interviews. From the introduction by Simon Sellars.