Thursday, November 6, 2008

To Science Fiction Writers Circa 1965

"I love you sons of bitches," Eliot said in Milford.
"You're all I read anymore. You're the only ones who'll talk about the really terrific changes going on, the only ones crazy enough to know that life is a space voyage and not a short one, either, but one that'll last for billions of years. You're the only ones with guts enough to really care about the future, who really notice what machines do to us, what wars do to us, what cities do to us, what big, simple ideas do to us, what tremendous misunderstands, mistakes, accidents, and catastrophes do to us. You're the only ones zany enough to agonize over time and distances without limit, over mysteries that will never die, over the fact that we are right now determining whether the space voyage for the next billion years or so is going to be Heaven or Hell"

Eliot admitted later on that science fiction writers couldn't write for sour apples..."

--Kurt Vonnegut, God Bless You, Mr. Rosewater

Lurker of Chalice-Lurker of Chalice

This record is so fucking awful. It's this guy, Wrest, who was in Leviathon. It's all ambient black metal or something. It's terrible. I don't know what kinds of drugs you have to consume to find this kind of music interesting, but I want no part of it. The only reason I'm posting it here is because people pay $40+ for the vinyl version (the re-press that is, the original is waaaay more), and I don't think that any person should ever have to pay for bad music. So download it and listen to it and wonder why the hell you wasted your time after I just spent an entire paragraph telling you how much it sucks.

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