A Human Yo-Yo Gets to an Apocheir

December 24, 2024

Christmas Eve, 1955, Benny Profane, wearing black Levi’s, suede jacket, sneakers and big cowboy hat, happened to pass through Norfolk, Virginia. Given to sentimental impulses, he thought he’d look in on the Sailor’s Grave, his old tin can’s tavern on East Main Street. He got there by way of the Arcade, at the East Main end of which sat an old street singer with a guitar and an empty Sterno can for donations. Profane rounded the corner. With its usual lack of warning, East Main was on him.

Thomas Pynchon, V.

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Thought:

“The future is creasing to exist, devoured by the all-voracious present. We have annexed the future into the present, as merely one of those manifold alternatives open to us.”

J. G. Ballard | Crash

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