I stopped believing three years ago, while you keep screaming for revolution
не могу не запостить 
чистейший восторг.
It just reminded me of that point. That simple point to which history tends despite its violence, despite itself.
Now. Love. That's all there was.
In the past it had been fun for me, but no more. That was history. Maybe it wouldn't last, maybe it wouldn't work. But that was the future.
Now. Love.
I had opened the door and was about to charge from the house when I heard the phone ringing.
I stood there for ten seconds undecided.
It could be the hospital. Probably just calling me back using caller ID. Should I answer it?
Maybe he's found out my number, though? It wouldn't be that hard. It could be him ... it might be him.
I raced back to the study and snatched up the phone.
'Yes?' I panted. 'Is that you?'
'It most certainly is me,' said Fraser-Stuart.
'Oh, go fuck yourself in chocolate,' I bellowed and slammed the phone down, disgusted.
'In chocolate!' said a voice behind me. 'You are so weird, Mikey.'
I spun round. He looked a little pale and tired. The hair was longer of course and I noted the beginnings of a small goatee-style beard.
'The door was open,' he said apologetically.
I stared at him.
'Well, Mikey? Aren't you gonna say anything?'
I approached him cautiously, afraid that at any moment he might disappear, that the tide that had flung him towards me would reach out and pull him back.
'So where's the Mardi Gras?' he said. 'The bookstores? What are we waiting for? Give me some Ecstasy and let's get out there and dance.' (с)
чистейший восторг.
It just reminded me of that point. That simple point to which history tends despite its violence, despite itself.
Now. Love. That's all there was.
In the past it had been fun for me, but no more. That was history. Maybe it wouldn't last, maybe it wouldn't work. But that was the future.
Now. Love.
I had opened the door and was about to charge from the house when I heard the phone ringing.
I stood there for ten seconds undecided.
It could be the hospital. Probably just calling me back using caller ID. Should I answer it?
Maybe he's found out my number, though? It wouldn't be that hard. It could be him ... it might be him.
I raced back to the study and snatched up the phone.
'Yes?' I panted. 'Is that you?'
'It most certainly is me,' said Fraser-Stuart.
'Oh, go fuck yourself in chocolate,' I bellowed and slammed the phone down, disgusted.
'In chocolate!' said a voice behind me. 'You are so weird, Mikey.'
I spun round. He looked a little pale and tired. The hair was longer of course and I noted the beginnings of a small goatee-style beard.
'The door was open,' he said apologetically.
I stared at him.
'Well, Mikey? Aren't you gonna say anything?'
I approached him cautiously, afraid that at any moment he might disappear, that the tide that had flung him towards me would reach out and pull him back.
'So where's the Mardi Gras?' he said. 'The bookstores? What are we waiting for? Give me some Ecstasy and let's get out there and dance.' (с)
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10.11.2009 в 19:06-
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10.11.2009 в 19:08о да...)
так тепло после этой книги и хорошо)
до сих пор)