Hlas s typickým přízvukem pro tento kraj.
šel pěšky ?
vedle ní , usmívala se
rozkvetlá Boudica ,
řítila se ulicemi Londonia
šel pěšky ?
s typickým přízvulkem kraje kde žila,
skoro zpívala !
A voice with a typical accent for this region.
next to her, she smiled
she rushed through the streets of London
with the typical accent of the region where she lived,
she didn't speak
she almost sang!
Jakákoli podobnost se skutečností je čistě náhodná nebo klasická synchronicita, napsáno velmi dávno.
And I held astronaut Peters by the hand.
The Shadows of Hart Crane. Catch!
In disguise, Edward Bengt infiltrated the platform to the London-Paris Express. He had just detained the robber David Hamilton, also known as Pound David with one eye in the back, who fled back into the foggy streets of London, disguised as a nun.
Surrounding snowshoes, couples standing apart and everyone is smiling. There are volcanoes and lots of cacti in Mexico.
In front of modern tenement houses an endless line of cars. The owners lovingly polish them, rhythmically. Suddenly, screaming wives and their children run out of all the apartment buildings and rush into the cars. Supermarket baskets and bags are everywhere.
Termites are tropical ants and this is their city, their house. Termite mound. As you can see, it is just as beautiful and beautiful as it is big. They were built by all the termites who lived here from the past to the present. Other termites will hatch tomorrow, and their new and native home will be small. Do you think they will tear it down to make it different, more beautiful and bigger?
Edward Bengt was immediately promoted for the successful intervention and received an award for bravery from the Queen. Police Commissioner Sullivan has been promoted to police president. It was a gnashing of teeth, which Sullivan had to leave.
The very next day, the Times released with headlines.
In the afternoon, a crowd gathered in front of the Palace of Justice, began to sing, and demanded the release of David Hamilton, also known as Pound David, with one eye in the back.
The crowd chanted: To- jsou- na-ši -li-dé! These- are -our- people! Give them back to us!
25 November, Le Figaro published an article.
It was also taken over by the London Times on November 26.
It said: "The truth is on the march and nothing will stop it!
Let the bell of freedom ring from the Rocky Mountains in Colorado!
Let the bell of freedom ring from the jagged peaks of California!
Whether the bell of freedom rings from every village and every city and from every solitude, we will finally be able to speed up the day when all the children of God, black, white, Jews, Christians and Muslims, Protestants and Catholics, take hands and sing the old spiritual: Finally free! Oh God, finally free! We are finally free! -
The Potosí Indians were dressed in short leather trousers, linen embroidered coats, and helmeted leather goatskin hats. They looked like bastards. They looked at a clay tablet that one of them had brought from the jungle. Aymara ideograms were painted aniline on the smooth back. They captured the famous fable for Ekkek's celebration, which began as follows:
When the swallows' wings flutter in the sky,
pale moon floats across the sky
When the rose blooms and the thorn punishes you
then only you
and long walks along the boulevards of Paris,
hand in hand.
In the corner of the room sat an eighteen-year-old Indian woman, partly behind a table, the shadows of candles flickering on her face, watching us with the eyes from which they shone - the shadows of Hart Crane !!!
Then she heard a distant human cry.
The extinguished fireplace blackened on the shore, bathed in moonlight.
Underneath, in his ashes, small red glowing embers went out late into the night.
And far on the dark ocean,
on the wild sea,
there was silence and darkness.
You were somewhere, and in the darkness, in the darkness, light shone.
K O N E C
Karta Crowleyho Tarotu na publikaci poslední kapitoly číselně, nikoli úplně, ještě zbývá napsat kapitolu 44- a možná to bude právě Výprava do Celkové Anestézie a právě teď všechno zapadlo do sebe.
KLIK. Jako dílky Lega.
Jako naše oči tehdy v pizzerii , nad okraji pizzy plněnými sýrem a karta Crowleyho Tarotu je...
V pozadí zvuk Zvonu Míru z Ohia prostřednictvím YouTube a Zvuky z Archivu BBC, volně dostupné pro nekomeční účely:
Markets: Mexico – Tijuana: Street market atmosphere.
Foreign Atmospheres – Spain, bullfight with music.
Čtení je prakticky bez chyby, jen v závěru jsem se musel smát při větě ,,Seděla částečně za stolem“- při čtení si situaci VŽDY představím a toto byla výzva….jak asi mohla sedět, když to bylo ,,částečně“ ?
Nepamatuji si, že bych tu větu psal a jak byla myšlena.
Jakákoli podobnost s čímkoli, jmény, místy, je náhodná, nebo je to klasická synchronicita.
And I held astronaut Peters by the hand.
Tragedy. It was a tragedy. But he wasn't quite sure.
Eventually he turned, Coaching Directions.
-How do you want to stop him.-
I shook my head: -We have no hope ….-
He turned and addressed the invisible crowds of his faithful: -We will say goodbye and sail on, brothers, we will find an island large enough and fertile enough to grow bread for us, for us all.-
He had lived in London since time immemorial and believed that there was such a thing as an island.
He was tormented by the thought, counting down the hours and composing positive waste. He didn't even notice that the two metal plates, whose loved ones and friends were merging into a single huge piece of metal: -I couldn't help them- something suddenly interrupted the flow of his thoughts.
March, the way when gusts of pressure force individual days, days, days, days, days…
He hasn't eaten body parts yet.
The lungs didn't have enough air to eat breakfast, now the waves and discontinuous fragments of impulses brought furniture into the cabin.
-The talk won't help us now.-
Death, Truth, the roar of thunder, and a time of excruciating inevitability awaited the door.
- Enough demagoguery, - he said.
-I want to mark seconds and minutes with nitroatom structure.-
- Do you want to? - Mr. Marek asked.
-I want it… -He whispered Coaches Directions.
- Mr. Marek asked, thinking-Dreams and desires, dreams and desires, plans for the future, cha cha.-
-I'll work on it!- Coachman Directions said, walking among his invisible faithful.
The beautiful court lady slept. She breathed slowly. Her renaissance clothes were like onion slices. Just peel them off !
End of chapter eleven.
Karta Crowleyho Tarotu na publikaci jedné z posledních nečtených kapitol střihové novely ,,A za ruku jsem držel astronautku Petersovou" je ,,Kolo štěstí ".
Jedna kapitola, čtyřicet čtyři, ani není napsaná, to bude zajímavé, pokračovat po takové době.
Napsáno před více jak deseti lety, jakákoli podobnost je čistě náhodná nebo je to klasická synchronicita.
And I held astronaut Peters by the hand.
Do you want a mysterious expedition or something?
Well, it's a village. I have never seen one like this and I had no idea that such villages could be.
Round blackened houses without windows stick to poles and under them everything is possible: some huge pots, troughs, rusty boilers, wooden rakes, shovels - there is choked clay between the houses, so hard that it shines. And where are you looking - nets. Dry. I don't know what is being caught in those nets. On the right is the swamp, on the left is the swamp and the sea? The sea stinks like a sump, as if rotting for thousands of years. North. Wild. And the inhabitants, it is known, nowhere.
There was only one thing clear. Death lurked ahead.
Find me a novel I haven't read! Tell Dr. May to resurrect Vinnetou, the Sioux bullet knocks him down and Buffalo Bill grows old. The spirit of the prairie flies, flies and does not even touch the hooves of the steppe grass horses and the lasso hisses in the air. Uff. Uff.
Why is it called -November?
The trees have long been bare and there is no fall of chestnuts.
Why is it called -August?-
Tata Iwi was walking through the streets of demolished London. He didn't know about it. It was just another village for him. Other debris, scars on the face of the world, which will soon heal when vegetation hides them…
I'm in a hurry.Why?
I wrote the word hurry.
Any mysterious expedition? Give me a break.
He was suddenly froze that he had rejected the oranges.
The thermonuclear drill started working.
- Close the door - Bobby shouted. There was no answer. She opened it with a terrifying key.
-And there… - Blonder pressed her hands to her chest and her hair fluttered, then took a spectacular pause. The American opened a new bottle of Coca-Cola and drank it without tearing it from his mouth, anise.
-And there…. there… -the blonde continued.
-Mon-mon -monsieur? -
He stared at the wall, as if waiting for it to part. I walked over to him and put my hand on his shoulder. He stopped shaking quickly. He was humbly taken away. The horror faded from him, and cunning crept into the fox's eyes. He studied me for a moment, then began cautiously in a fistula, "Don't you know who I am, monsieur?"
I looked encouraging.
The buzz of the computer merged into a single continuous sound, reminiscent of the sound of a circular saw cutting dry wood.
The speaker crackled suddenly, laughter.
Twilight thickened on the locator screens.
He walked over to the counter and pushed a button. The red warning lights on the towers in the corners of the starting area came on and the starting siren sounded.
End of Chapter 56.
Karta Crowleyho tarotu na publikaci čtení kapitoly 56 je ....
Napsáno více jak před deseti lety , jakákoli shoda se skutečností je náhoda nebo synchronicita.
And I held astronaut Peters by the hand.
They parked in front of a tall, narrow house, the windows on the ground floor were closed by faded net curtains. A battered brick wall, a trickle of water trickled down the broken gutter, leaving a slimy green stain on the front steps.
It was a two-story house, and the upper broken beams towered over the branches of the trees like the strange keels of shipwrecks. A dead house among thousands of dead houses, whispering the message of a bygone era.
Everything is coming to an end.
Somewhere in the suburbs of London, someone plays a gramophone record and the quiet, deep and hoarse voice of the singer Varja Panin came to us in silence: "My dear, it's a purely feminine point of view-
"Try to stop me, do a miracle
There is nothing so magnificent in the world
Make it a big bomb
She couldn't blow up
Someone is calling me from the outside, I don't want to be alone now "
-She says, in fact, he says he has bad blood.- Bobby said.
I smiled. We walked in silence after the song ended.
The world of adults differs from children's only minimally. It is a world where rapists are at their best, where excuses do not satisfy anyone, least of man alone, where cowardice corrodes the soul and you don't care.
-That's what the song is about, ”Suzanne said.
It's thundering and raining. The tree branch flutters sharply in front of the dim light of the street lamp, casting grotesque shadows on the glistening sidewalk.
We missed the playground. Abandoned. We walked in silence.
From the course we went to the cenote dagrado-sacred well, it is not strange that the Mayans, who worshiped the god of rain, considered the well sacred. There are no rivers nearby. If anyone knew at all that an underground river appeared and lost again in the underground jungle, then it must have been only the chosen people. And suddenly, in a place where the water was nowhere, a twenty-meter-thick layer of limestone collapsed and sediment appeared. Shrubs and trees disappeared under the water in the depression, and the white walls in the middle of the lush green forest demanded sacrifices like the teeth of the big mouths of the rain god. According to legend, the most beautiful girls threw themselves into the well. They dressed them richly, adorned them with precious jewels, and led them to a well under white bedspreads. However, a special group that examined the bottom of the well in 1974 proved that girls were not thrown into the well. All the skeletons found at a depth of thirteen meters belonged to men.
Daddy Iwi, in an anachronistic swallow attire and with his knees dropped, bowed silently to the ground. It was a success. Everyone laughed.
His lips are pale and his eyes shine dangerously.
His mind immediately began to imagine, and the businesswoman, Růžena Rybízová, opened herself dressed in a colorful shiny robe and blinked in surprise.
Lines of clouds chase around the pale moon, which is just disappearing behind a black wall of rain.
Bobby burst out laughing.
Tata Iwi, with a seemingly stern face, announces that she needs to get something in Miss Currant's grocery store.
Anger freed me from judgment and deprived me of caution.
-Freat! Be careful not to let your miserable soul come out of you!
In our world, news is spreading at the speed of light. However, this will not always be the case. Dad glared at me.
-Look! We live with germs around us, and when we become immune to them, we may not care that they exist. Yes, I'm glad I know that. I'm glad I know exactly who is rubbing his mouth on me. From which corner do they throw mud at me. Earlier… before…, when I was young. Do you realize that you are running to pagan superstitions to avert God's wrath? Which shows how confusing you are about religion.-
He spoke flawless German, tired and chubby ala Graf Zeppelin, and ended his sentences with a violent, imbalance laugh that went into violent and unbearably bright tones. The head was covered with a cap with sewn-on ears from an old wolf. They stuck to the sides, always trapped, as if they sensed danger.
The end of the first part.
End of the fifty-third part.
Několik drobných omylů při čtení ponecháno, konec s dovětkem a následným zahřměním je ponechán pro ilustraci, protože..... je to záznam jednoho TEĎ...a hlavně, ani nevíš co to pro mne znamená , být naživu, mít možnost, dělat to co dělám.
Můj právní zástupce mi včera řekl, že šance na přežití při sražení automobilem v rychlosti šedesáti pěti kilometrů za hodinu, jak se to stalo mě, je deset procent.
Karta Velké Arkány Crowleyho Tarotu na publikaci sobotního čtení je - ,,Mág."
Napsáno více jak před deseti lety, jakákoli podobnost s čímkoli je náhodná nebo klasická synchronicita jako dnes ráno kdy jsem otočil dva Mágy po sobě. Jistě. Náhoda. Jistě,synchronicita. Tedy vzhůru na kozlík kočáru s Kočím Směrů !
And I held astronaut Peters by the hand.
Goat, Carriage and Coach Directions in a colorful landscape.
The sun rose higher in the sky. Landscape with green and yellow hills. Tops that miraculously rise in the valley like huge sleeping elephants. And along the paths fences covered with roses, small blooming roses creeping up the pillars or hanging on iron wires. Everything is delicate, as if painted, one almost wants to cry how beautiful everything is.
The carriage travels on a sun-drenched path that winds to a height above the valley.
Kočí Směrů, spread out on a goat, smoked and told about long journeys, voyages and riots of sailors, cruisers, submarines and Ivan Poddubný and other famous wrestlers, about strongmen who pick up three horses with a car and ten people still sit in the car. .
-Unfortunately, I can not spread further on this thing, because… - says Coachman directions.
The wheels of the carriage rattled, and Mr. Mark's voice came into the sound.
-To Africa. I will become a doctor and go to Africa. One can do anything. He can change anything. Will is needed. Turn the world around, turn it upside down, take it off your skin. I am free now.-
He turns in Coach's directions.
-Did I tell you about one of our most interesting experiments? No? Both subjects underwent surgery, each of which introduced two tiny membranes into the brain, one membrane connected to the center of aggression, the other to the area of sexual activity. Outside the test room, we have a transmitter that acts on this or that membrane, so from our control panel we can influence the behavior of the test subjects in terms of their aggressiveness or sexuality. Unfortunately, the shots did not work very well, although we used several cameras. Imagine the control panel, there are two units, one for a woman, one for a man. We affect their sexuality and you see how the wild freak suddenly changes to stroking and then to intercourse. During her, we activate the woman's aggression, start to rage and beat around each other, a man who is under the influence of sexual arousal tries in vain to seize her. It almost looks like a farce, sometimes you can't help but laugh. But it is a fact. We play Gods.-
The coachman said quietly-For me it's not a fact.-
Mr. Marek answered him- Yes. God descends from any mountain, goes through a dark and quiet forest, wild beasts everywhere.-
There is silence, no sounds of cars rolling on the highways of the world. Not a single sound is heard. There is even silence.
Christ's crooked face in pain, the inaudible cry behind bared teeth. That's the silence. When was the last time you were silent?
- Stop !!! - shouts the Coachman's directions to the horses and obediently stops you.
He jumps off the goat on the ground, on all fours, sways from side to side and, like frenetic Japanese women, does the same, whining like a shot dog.
A group of children appears on the way.
The boys have shorts and are pretty tanned.
-Trumpers! Trumpet greetings!
The bugle blew the trumpet.
The coachman threw again.
The boys passed them, lined up in two steps.
Mr. Marek slaps Kočí's back.
The trumpet player trumpeted, some of the boys' eyes wandered to where the Coachmen gave directions, and they continued on their way, but before they got back to London, their eyes swelled. Several members of the unit then had to get rid of parasites for many months, which burrowed into their eyes and disturbed the cornea.
The coachman wiped his mouth — but suddenly!
A roaring cry escaped his throat, a hoarseness of terror.
The steel blade of the fang flashed in the sun! Fang!
And Mr. Marek stabbed and stabbed and stabbed and stabled and stabled and stabled with a convulsive hand, drops of blood swirling in the air on all sides, the unit was long gone.
The coachman's directions lay, showing no signs of life. Where was that life? Where does everything happen when an empty body lies as if it is asleep? Where are the ideas on the way elsewhere?
The sun was shining high in the sky.
Mr. Marek mounted a goat.
He took the reins. He looked at the body in the dust of the road.
- He sighed. - Hey!
And the blood of the Coachman's Directions shone on the sleeves of his travel jacket.
End of chapter twenty-eight.
Karta na publikaci klapotu koňských kopyt je...
And I held astronaut Peters by the hand.
Chapter Twenty-seven Part One
Down here, on dark ground.
Down here, on the dark ground, there was no discernment for twenty paces, such was the fog. Only the streetlights and blinded car headlights formed blurred yellowish spots here and there.
Excited and back on our backs, Bill and I walked along Buckingham Palace Road and saw the long, deserted streets, nowhere, just the sweet star of Mary in front of us, and where it was in the morning when a girl poured red wine into my friend's mouth. from the Spanish wine bellows and still couldn't hit…
I was madly trying to enjoy the mist and clouds rolling in the Thames.
The downpour started and Bill and I just covered our covers with blankets. The water washed away thousands of cockroaches, spiders, and lizards, rats that began to roam the streets and crawl through the walls of houses where clouds of barely visible marigus flies swarmed and where malaria and rattlesnakes waited.
Somewhere in the gardens, the dogs howled incessantly.
So. Strange Sunday.
Long, red tongues licked the darkness, pointing to infinity, to the flames of tallow candles on which moths rub their wings.
The radio of an overturned car sang the service, and as we passed Big Ben, the two tall English cops watched us suspiciously with Scotland Yard's sinister smiles, as in the old Sherlock Holmes movies.
Where are they now, my wandering acrobats?
All the while, my mind was excited to think of England at dawn, of London, drowning in mist.
And I realized that it doesn't matter that we sin.
,,Napsáno před více jak deseti lety, jakákoli podoba s čímkoli je …JE.
Napsáno více jak před deseti lety, shoda jmen událostí příjmení a skutků je náhodná, nebo je to klasická synchronicita. Také publikace zrovna dopisu poručíkovi Goškevičovi, Rusovi, je náhodná,je to část příběhu, na tento dopis v jiné kapitole následuje odpověď. Jsem PROTI jakékoli válce kdekoli, na Ukrajině zvlášť , Bohdane, držím Ti palce !
And I held astronaut Peters by the hand.
Letter addressed to Lieutenant Osip Goshevich.
Dear friend !!!!
I will take advantage of the visit of one of my former maids, who is less blunt than the maids I have now, and I will ask her to deliver these few lines to you.
Please excuse the inconsistency of this letter, its fragmentation and stylistic shortcomings. It's weird, I know, it's the same as my head, I'm so confused about it. Plus, I'm in a bad mood today.
Hardly in any other nation is there as much general beauty as in England. Do not judge the beauty of the English, according to the red-haired gentlemen and ladies who desert from England under the name of captains, engineers, teachers and educators - these are rubbish, a pretty woman does not have to run away from England, beauty is capital.
It is said that English women are distinguished by the size of their feet, I do not know if this is true. It seems to me that this is partly a prejudice, mainly because no other women show off their feet like English women. As they cross the muddy street, they lift their skirts so high that they provide the perfect opportunity to see their feet.
The English women are mostly tall, slender, but a little proud and calm — in the words of many connoisseurs, even cold. Coldly!!!
The color of the eyes and hair is extremely diverse - some are perfect brunettes, but they are also extraordinarily white and have a bright, beautiful blush.
Whenever I see a pretty English woman, it seems to me that I see Captain Kopejkin.
Because I lived as a traveler in hotels, I had few opportunities to observe women closely, except for housewives in inns, saleswomen in shops, and so on. These two maids run around me like two mail horses, repeating murderously to my every word like magpies: -Yes, Sir… .No, Sir… -
But why these words, my dear… where have I sharpened it? What am I describing?
Of course, I saw how callously you rejected my suggestions that my crazy passion put into my previous writings, I heard your confessions that you have secrets in front of me that I am not worthy to know… Fifteen years later I am writing for you and it is a fact , you told me I'd know right now, I'm on fire, I'm on fire, tell me.
You should rejoice and be proud, for the absolute power you have over me, over my will, must fill you with pride. Who you are? What kind of power is that? Who gave it to you? You are not human… no… in my eyes, no! You are the Angel of my Destiny!
Copies and women's blouses have always made me sad.
I always finish writing more tenderly than I should, and you, ungrateful, are abusing my tenderness and doing what you like and not what I want.
don't be lazy and come see your friend…
Still passionately, the days do not take away from the passion, on the contrary, more and more passionately,
Post scriptum: The general impression of the appearance of London and its population is strange, two million people live here, London is a center of world trade and guess what is not visible on it?
Life-actually its tumultuous boiling. Trade is seen, but there is no life, otherwise you must conclude that trade is life here, as it really is. Life here… does not strike your eyes.
There is a relative silence, all actions are somehow quiet, serious. Apart from the inevitable noise caused by horses and carriage wheels, almost nothing else can be heard. The city seems to be holding its breath and pounding its pulse as a living being. There is no needless shouting and no need for movement. Everything seems to be budgeted, weighed, and valued, as if voice and facial expressions were paid for just as much as windows and rims on wheels.
Adios and goodbye, yes? Goodbye Goodbye Goodbye. And now remember for a moment that even in your disobedience, Yours too loves You.
Oh, a ton of delights when my mind wanders to You….
End of chapter twenty-two.
Karta Crowleyho Tarotu na publikaci slov, určených ruskému poručíku, ať se všem ruským vojáků líbí nohy kapitána Kopejkina je...
Čteno a nahráno ve Studiu Midian. Zvuk v pozadí , Archiv BBC, volně dostupné pro neziskové projekty, přesněji- Period Battle – Eleventh Century Battle, large army fighting with swords & axes.
And I held astronaut Peters by the hand.
Beautiful court lady and Helene Blehárová.
When I came out of the bathroom, I was surprised to find that Miss Blehar had packed a tailcoat and other things for the trip.
Since she seemed to have taken her mind by hand, I tried to indicate to her with a friendly pat that I had already forgiven her.
Me: -Nobody can pack as nicely as you, Miss Blehar.
Miss Blehar: - So? -
Me: - Old man! -
I was very angry that she did not answer. The last expression was not, of course, the happiest, but Miss Blehár could be so terribly annoyed that she would froth the blood to the Holy Spirit himself.
There is necessarily a drop of bile at the bottom of each cup.
We committed a deadly sin with an unnamed nun several times, confessed to torture, and had to walk the naked streets of London, stoned and loyal believers stoned us and spat at us full of sincere ugliness, and before we released souls at the border, we confessed to all other horrible shame and people screamed and cried.
That was before.
Bodies covered with colorful scales of newspapers and magazines, rainbow curtains of tropical rain fall on London.
Reflection drowns out the sound of melodic gong.
Emergency signal. Mexican smog.
They pounce on each other and it's all over in a minute.
I'll throw myself into everything.
We have an Indian summer here.
The beautiful court lady inhales the lukewarm night air and observes the sky, the stars composing the constellations, the Southern Cross, the Centaur, the triangle and the Altar a little to the right. His evening despondency slowly dissipates in the majesty of the universe, which at one point has come within his fingers, throws a lasso, and pulls the moon to himself.
In the last fire of the evening sun, everything grows to heroic proportions. The mountains are higher and more majestic, the forests denser and more mysterious.
About twenty miles to the northwest, the last gas-filled garages exploded.
He drinks liters of black coffee.
She walks around him, strokes him and sniffs at him, digging her fingernail into him. He turns and swaps. - Think of something nice Sullivan. Think of me, for example. -
The choke figs run in long spirals, long and noble.
Sullivan is stunned by the smell of her body, he thinks of her seeing her yesterday with a milk jug, he can feel the laminar flow of sterile air, his lips move, and he says something in a hoarse voice.
Silence is annoying and sticky.
Everything always ends in silence.
End of chapter thirty-seven
Karta Crowleyho Tarotu na publikaci je.... ,,Chtíč"
How did it happen that people started talking about the Captain again? The entrance to the underground was hidden behind the skeleton of a cumbersome concrete structure resembling a dinosaur skeleton. At the same time, none of them knew where this would lead. The only crack in the world already covered with a veil shakes the ground and the concrete is crumbling. In a few minutes the voice of a real parrot. -Please clarify! So is there an apparatus for accepting ideas, or not? -How do I know? -The salesman answers.-We don’t talk, do we? You can broadcast picture and sound yourself! – -Yes sir…- Are you broadcasting? -No!- -Why not?- -I don’t have such an order! –
Every whirlwind is foreshadowed by a rumble, it’s like when Sarah sits in a jeep and heads for the mountains, a dirty Mexican pumper stares into the distance, the sky retracts…. He was already in a fever. Only girls can bear the blinding mixture of the glow of knowledge and the sun.
There is a voice, torn and squeaky, that sounds like a big chunk of the spring sky. -And he’ll take us far if we’re not careful. It is a problem that casts our doubts about the very structure of our society. Are we barbarians? The nanny once kissed my tongue. That was fame! – -But for God’s sake, my dear, it’s just as much of a fantasy as our thoughts. … I understood him. He and a friend stare at the goddess’s ass. Then they smile apologetically in the still air and the sun reaches them without connection. The salesman fires three revolver revolver at the red sky and refuses to debate with the parrot. The world is morning cold, we don’t know the day or the clock.
He stopped and waited for wailing and cattle. And when he saw the two brethren, he trembled. They were together and they wanted her. They wanted to. When someone sees something, someone, in front of them, every day, minute, second, and yet they can’t have it – how can it end? Not good. Sweet rays emanating from the hut echoed through the moans. The overcast and gloomy spring light silvered the edges of the hazel fence. The rickety gates receded and three men came out, covered in elephant skeletons. They set out on a journey.
Přesto..podvečerní čtení…před tím, co se chystá tento týden je….vlastně záchrana.
And I held astronaut Peters‘ hand, chapter twenty-first, in my hand.
He dies and an arrow flashes near the village.
The biologist pursed his lips. -I created you! -Me?- -Yes! You and all probable life! – -Did you decide? –
The captain gave me forty minutes to break the time barrier. Then they send me to a psychiatric hospital or declare that my mental anomaly is caused by Star Force. But isn’t everything really a bit abnormal?
I watch in despair as the blind man continues to play, as souvenir photos continue to be made. And I went back to the letters.
The sergeant who examined our hair always said: – The freezing Cosmos is gliding in front of us like a sea storm… – The young girl’s body is like a strong wind blowing over a superheated ground. It can have a funnel-shaped, cylindrical or spiral shape. From 1900 until today, the Adriatic Sea has been hit by thirty-two sea storms. Practically once a year. In the twenty-twenty-third year, there were no storms. Then, like a machine-gun dose, the thud of running legs and the cracking of broken ribs are heard. Maybe branches. They are painted girls, smoke cigarettes from the tip and have their legs slung over their legs. One of them says: – Why should you think of Tangier, when London is so charming, cold, so nice, with lots of wonderful continental restaurants. What about us? Do you love?
About twelve journalists sat in the corner of the hall of one such restaurant. They drank, waved their hands, and discussed passionately. Then someone spoke, just in a low voice, half-mouthed. As if by the way.
The pilots were tired, did not sleep at night, and now they had worked hard for a long time, realizing that Olson was worse off than the others, so they reassured him and told him it wouldn’t take long.
Nahráno a smícháno ve Studiu Midian. No. Ve Studiu. Proč ne ? I kdyby jen…někdo.
And I held astronaut Peters by the hand.
The lonely, forceful steps of the German philosopher.
Traveling through time every day, smiling and uttering words, and William is lonely, striking the mad German philosopher, wearing Vietnamese European trousers and a shirt with pockets, a fishing hat and a long shotgun in his hand – he attacks him in one dark corner. a bunch of thorns. He clicks the old thing and says- Come on, you bastards- and thugs will blow up in the nothingness of the endless streets of London… William then lights elegantly. When the seafront appears, he pulls out his binoculars and looks out to sea. Nothing but emptiness spans the horizon.
William thought. – It’s amazing in London’s prostitutes that they take off their veils over their noses and then the long biblical robe, and suddenly they’re just lewd sluts with a lustful smile and nothing more. He smiled. Later, as he tried to look through the wrong time and find me, his eyes searched, turned to dust and rose until he found me, looked at me and asked – Where are you? Where are you? – But all I heard was the rustling of my lips, and the connection broke when a high, phallic voice carried over the air — We’re sending an extraordinary message… .We’re sending an extraordinary message…We are sending an extraordinary message… Citizens of the Earth beware… We are sending an extraordinary message… –
I saw the deer of the dawn rushing forward, but where was I at this moment when the shattering vibration of the other worlds pulsed and rushed in the infinite universes like on a treadmill — was it me?
Andrei Petrovich Slomin, the editor, began the day by scolding his Tokyo correspondent Pucyn, who had recently worked in London as a fake player. -Stop filling my issue with the articles about the success of the Osaka fishing industry exhibition. Does it make sense to praise the improvement of fishing tackle when all our salmon end up in Japanese or American nets? But when he said that, it dawned on him that he might be trying his luck. Pucyn confirms with a smile.- My dream has come true. I always wanted to appear on the front page as a model.-
Ratatata receded. The closer the rattling sounded, the more strikingly it resembled the night machine gun fire on the Sierra Guadarrama.
Solomin sends several letters in carriers to be delivered to the police station. One of them says: – Optimists are excited, pessimists are turning one of the dreaded nightmares into reality. We are not alone in space. From the pictures taken by astronaut Peters, it is clear that the surface of Jupiter’s moon Europa is covered with a thick layer of ice. Below it is liquid water. Is there really life? Does Namor rule there? The night fell suddenly. Pampa is silent. The small town stretches happily in the moist air. The sharp headlights of a slow-moving car slide down a large, flashy banner: NO ROAD LEADS TO ROME.-
They all led to You.
Karta Crowleyho Tarou na publikaci čtení s doprovodem virtuálních hudebních nástrojů je…
Chapter one. Time is not just a matter of days and minutes.
At Big Ben, the famous London clock tower, two were just striking. It was like a roar of thunder. He stared at the strange city. He heard orders: -The curfew for residents.In strategic places, set up patrols… – That handled everything. He did not walk on a hidden smuggling path.
An hour later, he went to the newsstand opposite Parliament to buy a box of Havana cigars and went out in a plaid skirt like a Scottish bagpiper to the Metropol cinema, now watching the Drum Fire. Time is not just a matter of days and minutes. It was necessary to cross the oceans of the world. New countries have pushed the hitherto completely recent past. Plus, he got a fever the day after he arrived. He was very old and strange, tiny, with a long white beard like a giant squid, a record of something important, snatched from the depths of the ages, or he was just raving. After many years, he went out and looked at the starry sky. She was endless, calling to him but not intimidating. He already knew he would return to space.
There, behind a forest of oil rigs, was a rocky hillside, hot in the heat. A white dusted path led along it. Dazzling light, immersed in endless desire. Trees can be seen high on the ridge. Seagulls rise above them. They take off in dead tracks. Mad eyes clouded from the polar ice. The girls are a little scared of him. The light beam comes from a nice ass.
Voices of ladies, Unisono:
,,Work with bricks…thousands,ten thousand,million of bricks!“
Choirmaster: -Damn, those bricks. And the house is nowhere !!!! And to the sign of woman he had plays epileptic note.
Later, on a large green meadow, the ladies – they are young Italians – dial rhythmically according to the orders of the gym professor, who is standing on a wooden step at the edge of the meadow: -At two, one to two, one to two three… – -Time, eh -he say.-
Western and eastern borders, everything, red tongues of flame with charred algae, excited throats.- They all drank white coffee and the City was expanding.
He stepped in, holding a sleeping gun. The art of killing… thought about these words.That I did not have to kill a man. He returned to the bed and pressed the internal connection button. Great, it worked, the screen came to life and streaks appeared on it. Then blackened in a moment. It was high time.
Later that day, all the English evenings wrote in inch headlines: -MERRY !!!! Letter from the President of the Republic:… The court-martial has just ventured-on order-to release a certain man… Obviously he is an agent from another planet, the problem is that he does not know why he was sent here, he forgot his precious message… DANGER A MORT. Distant drums sound better. Good old England loves its former rulers. The signal of the psycho cell is negative přenos. This time the transmission did not take place. –
The man was William Seward Burroughs, and now we were heading down narrow streets in ragged robes, passing charming brunettes in tight skirts, schoolgirls with boyish hairstyles, lips rolling over books, and nervous learning by heart-waiting to meet young Marcel Proust in the park after school. Magical young girls who walk with certain steps on low heels to the center.
And after London’s cobblestones damaged by winds and rains, a long line of gray animals ran in the grass between the boards, the whole family, the flying rats laboriously detached from the crumbling walls, twilight ensued, and the roads covered England from south to east and back to London, Mexico, Morocco, Paris, all the oceans and various interesting people and things and cities will appear on them and when William says: -You shouldn’t be dating those Mexicans, it’s a pack of con artists- I say: -Let’s get out of here, it’s too literary, — but he stops me: – That’s screaming! Here you are in heaven and not in some slum where foxes give a good night. Go, no one is holding you.-
But do you have a way back?
End of the first chapter.
XXXXXXXXXXXXXXX Karta Crowleyho Tarotu na publikaci čtení pro Tebe je…. Yasmin. Again.
Překlad je jen z automatického překladače, časově bych to nikdy nestihl, pár úprav se povedlo.
Jakákoli podobnost s osobami či událostmi je čistě náhodná, napsáno bylo před více jak deseti lety.
Nahráno ve Studiu Midian….. a , čas není jen otázkou dní a minut, jednou….a bude to zítra, co říkáš,samé zítra a zítra a zítra ?