"this War was never political at all"

[Sean Lawler]

Re: "this War was never political at all"
  ----- Original Message ----- 
  From: vze422fs at verizon.net 
  To: JBFRAME at aol.com ; pynchon-l at waste.org 
  Sent: Friday, February 28, 2003 12:11 AM
  Subject: Re: "this War was never political at all"


  on 2/27/03 7:58 PM, JBFRAME at aol.com at JBFRAME at aol.com wrote:


    In a message dated 02/27/2003 8:50:28 AM Pacific Standard Time, pynchonoid at yahoo.com writes: 



      ...a conspiracy between human beings and techniques, by 
      something that needed the energy-burst of war, crying, 
      'Money be damned, the very life of [insert name of 
      Nation] is at stake," but meaning, most likely, dawn 
      is nearly here, I need my night's blood, my funding, 
      funding, ahh more, more. . . . 



    Reminds me... 

    Moloch 
    What sphinx of cement and aluminum bashed open their skulls and ate up their brains and imagination? 
    Moloch! Solitude! Filth! Ugliness! Ashcans and unobtainable dollars! Children screaming under the stairways! Boys sobbing in armies! Old men weeping in the parks! 
    Moloch! Moloch! Nightmare of Moloch! Moloch the loveless! Mental Moloch! Moloch the heavy judger of men! 
    Moloch the incomprehensible prison! Moloch the crossbone soulless jailhouse and Congress of sorrows! Moloch whose buildings are judgement! Moloch the vast stone of war! Moloch the stunned governments! 
    Moloch whose mind is pure machinery! Moloch whose blood is running money! Moloch whose fingers are ten armies! Moloch whose breast is a cannibal dynamo! Moloch whose ear is a smoking tomb! 
    Moloch whose eyes are a thousand blind windows! Moloch whose skyscrapers stand in the long streets like endless Jehovahs! Moloch whose factories dream and croak in the fog! Moloch whose smokestacks and antennae crown the cities! 
    Moloch whose love is endless oil and stone! Moloch whose soul is electricity and banks! Moloch whose poverty is the specter of genius! Moloch whose fate is a cloud of sexless hydrogen! Moloch whose name is the Mind! 
    Moloch in whom I sit lonely! Moloch in whom I dream angels! Crazy in Moloch! Cocksucker in Moloch! Lacklove and manless in Moloch! 
    Moloch who entered my soul early! Moloch in whom I am a consciousness without a body! Moloch who frightened me out of my natural ecstasy! Moloch whom I abandon! Wake up in Moloch! Light streaming out of the sky! 
    Moloch! Moloch! Robot apartments! invisible suburbs! skeleton treasuries! blind capitals! demonic industries! spectral nations! invincible madhouses! granite cocks! monstrous bombs! 
    They broke their backs lifting Moloch to Heaven! Pavements, trees, radios, tons! lifting the city to Heaven which exists and is everywhere about us! 
    Visions! Omens! hallucinations! miracles! ecstasies! gone down the American river! 
    Dreams! adorations! illuminations! religions! the whole boatload of sensitive bullshit! 
    Breakthroughs! over the river! flips and crucifixions! gone down the flood! Highs! Epiphanies! Despairs! Ten years' animal creams and suicides! Minds! New loves! Mad generation! down on the rocks of Time! 
    Real holy laughter in the river! They saw it all! the wild eyes! the holy yells! They bade farewell! They jumped off the roof! to solitude! waving! carrying flowers! Down to the river! into the street! 

    1956 
       



  I saw the best minds of my generation walking the negro streets at dawn,
  Angel-headed hipsters searching for an angry fix,
  Naked, hysterical, starving.

  Thanks, man.

  Sometimes we need to be reminded.

  Peace,
  Joe
   

  Whoops...

  "I saw the best minds of my generation destroyed by madness, starving hysterical naked, dragging themselves through the negro streets at dawn looking for an angry fix,
  angelheaded hipsters burning for the ancient heavenly connection to the starry dynamo in the machinery of night..."