House of Leaves
by Mark Z. Danieleweski
this House of Leaves appreciation blog is brought to you by Kaleb, Jess, and Chris.
Posts tagged "mzd"
Temperature: 32F
Light: absent.
Silence: complete*
Air Movement: (I.e. breezes, drafts etc.): none
True north: DNE
*with the exception of the ‘growl’.
Light: absent.
Silence: complete*
Air Movement: (I.e. breezes, drafts etc.): none
True north: DNE
*with the exception of the ‘growl’.
Of course, I have my own immeasurable stupidity to blame for winding up here. The old man left plenty of clues and warnings. I was the fool to disregard them. Or was it the reverse: did I secretly enjoy them? At least I should have had some fucking inkling what I was getting into…
I know a moment came when I felt certain its resolute blackness was capable of anything, maybe even of slashing out, tearing up the floor, murdering Zampano, murdering us, maybe even murdering you.
In anxiety one feels uncanny. Here the peculiar indefiniteness of that which Dasein finds itself along in anxiety, comes proximally to expression: the “nothing and nowhere”. But here “uncanniness” also means “not-being-at home.” [das Nicht-suhause-sein].
I looked at my hands. I was holding onto the steering wheel so tightly, all my knuckles were shiny points of white, and my blinker was on, CLICK-click CLICK-click CLICK-click, so certain, so plain, so clear, and yet for all its mechanical conviction, blinking me in the wrong direction.
That wasn’t the last time I lost sense of time either. In fact it began to happen more often, dozens of hours just blinking by, lost in the twist of so many dangerous sentences. Slowly but surely, I grew more and more disoriented, increasingly more detached from the world, something sad and awful straining around the edges of my mouth, surfacing in my eyes. I stopped going out at night. I stopped going out. Nothing could distract me. I felt like I was losing control. Something terrible was going to happen. Eventually something terrible did happen. No one could reach me.
I didn’t think much of it, though it wasn’t exactly the kind of thing you forget either.
Truth & Truth. Or TNT. Truth and Truth therefore becoming another name for the nitrating of toluene of C7H5N3O6- not to be confused with C16H10N202- in other words one word: trinitrotoluene. TNT telegraphing a wierd coalition of sense. On one hand transcendent and lasting and on the other violent and extremely flammable.
144
Words filling my head. Fragmenting like artillery shells. Shrapnel, like syllables, flying everywhere. Terrible syllables. Sharp. Cracked. Traveling at murderous speed. Tearing through it all in a very, very bad perhaps even irreparable way.
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