Wednesday, April 09, 2008


Phone-line interference in the form of children's voices singing just beyond the range of human hearing, mole-narrators meticulously describing their protective burrows, salesmen less shocked by being turned into beetles than embarrassed by the fact that their boss and family might see them this way - Kafka's warped and absurd snapshot of 20th-century humanity is, perversely, probably the most objective one there is.
Bataille collapses the sublime into base matter and fragments the self within the kaleidoscope of its desires. He chops man's head off, makes the sun bleed and the sky reek with the stench of God's decomposing flesh.