Sunday, March 12, 2006

# Posted 9:37 PM by Patrick Belton  

HE STOOD BROODING BY HIS BED.... The light did him harm, but not as much as looking at things did; he resolved, having done it once, never to move his eyeballs again. A dusty thudding in his head made the scene before him beat like a pulse. His mouth had been used as a latrine by some small creature of the night, and then as its mausoleum. During the night, too, he’d somehow been on a cross-country run and then been expertly beaten up by secret police. He felt bad.'

Modern Drunkard Magazine, which supports my particular lifestyle community against great frequent prejudice and reprobation, gives me another excuse to read again one of the most exquisitely crafted paragraphs in the language I love, as well as a great deal else about Kingsley Amis as well.
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