May 29, 2006
Primacy
by Andrew A. Anissi
Masako crossed her legs. This time she caught a quick glance from the receptionist, who was obviously trying hard not to stare.
With a frown that would have been puppy dog cute if it wasn’t so menacing, Masako fixed the receptionist with a glare that said, “Don’t you dare look at me.”
The receptionist coughed and buried his head into his work. He coughed again a few seconds later when the clock struck 3:00 pm, and the therapist’s door opened.
“Good,” Masako thought. “I was getting bored playing with that peon.” Following the shrink into his office, Masako smiled and stuck her tongue out at the reception playfully as she swung her Hello Kitty bag over her shoulder and sauntered out of his pathetic life.
Posted by andrewanissi at 03:22 PM
December 22, 2005
The Great God Pan
by Arthur Machen
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THE EXPERIMENT
"I am glad you came, Clarke; very glad indeed. I was
not sure you could spare the time."
"I was able to make arrangements for a few days; things
are not very lively just now. But have you no misgivings,
Raymond? Is it absolutely safe?"
The two men were slowly pacing the terrace in front of
Dr. Raymond's house. The sun still hung above the western
mountain-line, but it shone with a dull red glow that cast no
shadows, and all the air was quiet; a sweet breath came from the
great wood on the hillside above, and with it, at intervals, the
soft murmuring call of the wild doves. Below, in the long
lovely valley, the river wound in and out between the lonely
hills, and, as the sun hovered and vanished into the west, a
faint mist, pure white, began to rise from the hills. Dr.
Raymond turned sharply to his friend.
"Safe? Of course it is. In itself the operation is a
perfectly simple one; any surgeon could do it."
"And there is no danger at any other stage?"
"None; absolutely no physical danger whatsoever, I give
you my word. You are always timid, Clarke, always; but you know
my history. I have devoted myself to transcendental medicine
for the last twenty years. I have heard myself called quack and
charlatan and impostor, but all the while I knew I was on the
right path. Five years ago I reached the goal, and since then
every day has been a preparation for what we shall do tonight."
Continue reading "The Great God Pan"
Posted by andrewanissi at 04:03 AM
The Bowmen and Other Noble Ghosts
by "The Londoner" (Arthur Machen)
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* *
Of course his story had to be about the war; there are no other
stories nowadays. And so he wrote of English soldiers who, in the dusk
on a field of France, faced the sullen mass of the oncoming Huns. They
were few against fearful odds, but, as they sent the breech-bolt home
and aimed and fired, they became aware that others fought beside them.
Down the air came cries to St. George and twanging of the bow-string;
the old bowmen of England had risen at England's need from their
graves in that French earth and were fighting for England.
* *
He said that he made up that story by himself, that he sat down and
wrote it out of his head. But others knew better. It must really have
happened. There was, I remember, a clergyman of good credit who told
him that he was clean mistaken; the archers had really and truly risen
up to fight for England: the tale was all up and down the front.
Continue reading "The Bowmen and Other Noble Ghosts"
Posted by andrewanissi at 03:58 AM
The Dazzling Light
by Arthur Machen
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protecting the skull are particularly thick, and the weight of the
helmet renders its use in open warfare out of the question. The rim
is large, like that of the headpiece of Mambrino, and the soldier
can at will either bring the helmet forward and protect his eyes or
wear it so as to protect the base of the skull . . . Military
experts admit that continuance of the present trench warfare may
lead to those engaged in it, especially bombing parties and barbed
wire cutters, being more heavily armoured than the knights, who
fought at Bouvines and at Agincourt.--The Times, July 22, 1915
The war is already a fruitful mother of legends. Some people think
that there are too many war legends, and a Croydon gentleman--or lady,
I am not sure which--wrote to me quite recently telling me that a
certain particular legend, which I will not specify, had become the
"chief horror of the war." There may be something to be said for this
point of view, but it strikes me as interesting that the old
myth-making faculty has survived into these days, a relic of noble,
far-off Homeric battles. And after all, what do we know? It does not
do to be too sure that this, that, or the other hasn't happened and
couldn't have happened.
Continue reading "The Dazzling Light"
Posted by andrewanissi at 03:56 AM
The Monstrance
by Arthur Machen
1914
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priest heaved up the Host there came a beam redder than any rose and
smote upon it, and then it was changed bodily into the shape and
fashion of a Child having his arms stretched forth, as he had been
nailed upon the Tree.--Old Romance.
So far things were going very well indeed. The night was thick and
black and cloudy, and the German force had come three-quarters of their
way or more without an alarm. There was no challenge from the English
lines; and indeed the English were being kept busy by a high shell-fire
on their front. This had been the German plan; and it was coming off
admirably. Nobody thought that there was any danger on the left; and so
the Prussians, writhing on their stomachs over the ploughed field, were
drawing nearer and nearer to the wood. Once there they could establish
themselves comfortably and securely during what remained of the night;
and at dawn the English left would be hopelessly enfiladed--and there
would be another of those movements which people who really understand
military matters call "readjustments of our line."
The noise made by the men creeping and crawling over the fields was
drowned by the cannonade, from the English side as well as the German.
On the English centre and right things were indeed very brisk; the big
guns were thundering and shrieking and roaring, the machine-guns were
keeping up the very devil's racket; the flares and illuminating shells
were as good as the Crystal Palace in the old days, as the soldiers
said to one another. All this had been thought of and thought out on
the other side. The German force was beautifully organised. The men who
crept nearer and nearer to the wood carried quite a number of machine
guns in bits on their backs; others of them had small bags full of
sand; yet others big bags that were empty. When the wood was reached
the sand from the small bags was to be emptied into the big bags; the
machine-gun parts were to be put together, the guns mounted behind the
sandbag redoubt, and then, as Major Von und Zu pleasantly observed,
"the English pigs shall to gehenna-fire quickly come."
Continue reading "The Monstrance"
Posted by andrewanissi at 03:54 AM
The Soldiers' Rest
by Arthur Machen
1914
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He still felt drowsy and dazed with some fierce experience through
which he had passed, but so far he could not recollect much about it.
But--an agreeable glow began to steal about his heart--such a glow as
comes to people who have been in a tight place and have come through
it better than they had expected. In its mildest form this set of
emotions may be observed in passengers who have crossed the Channel on
a windy day without being sick. They triumph a little internally, and
are suffused with vague, kindly feelings.
The wounded soldier was somewhat of this disposition as he opened his
eyes, pulled himself together, and looked about him. He felt a sense
of delicious ease and repose in bones that had been racked and weary,
and deep in the heart that had so lately been tormented there was an
assurance of comfort--of the battle won. The thundering, roaring waves
were passed; he had entered into the haven of calm waters. After
fatigues and terrors that as yet he could not recollect he seemed now
to be resting in the easiest of all easy chairs in a dim, low room.
In the hearth there was a glint of fire and a blue, sweet-scented puff
of wood smoke; a great black oak beam roughly hewn crossed the
ceiling. Through the leaded panes of the windows he saw a rich glow of
sunlight, green lawns, and against the deepest and most radiant of all
blue skies the wonderful far-lifted towers of a vast, Gothic
cathedral--mystic, rich with imagery.
Continue reading "The Soldiers' Rest"
Posted by andrewanissi at 03:52 AM
The Bowmen
by Arthur Machen
1914
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On this dreadful day, then, when three hundred thousand men in arms
with all their artillery swelled like a flood against the little
English company, there was one point above all other points in our
battle line that was for a time in awful danger, not merely of defeat,
but of utter annihilation. With the permission of the Censorship and
of the military expert, this corner may, perhaps, be described as a
salient, and if this angle were crushed and broken, then the English
force as a whole would be shattered, the Allied left would be turned,
and Sedan would inevitably follow.
All the morning the German guns had thundered and shrieked against
this corner, and against the thousand or so of men who held it. The
men joked at the shells, and found funny names for them, and had bets
about them, and greeted them with scraps of music-hall songs. But the
shells came on and burst, and tore good Englishmen limb from limb, and
tore brother from brother, and as the heat of the day increased so did
the fury of that terrific cannonade. There was no help, it seemed. The
English artillery was good, but there was not nearly enough of it; it
was being steadily battered into scrap iron.
Posted by andrewanissi at 03:47 AM
June 03, 2005
The Haunted and the Haunters: Or, The House and the Brain
By the Right Hon. Lord Edward Bulwer-Lytton
[1878], Taken from themagickalreview.org
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A friend of mine, who is a man of letters and a philosopher, said to me one day, as if between jest and earnest,—“Fancy! since we last met, I have discovered a haunted house in the midst of London.”
“Really haunted?—and by what?—ghosts?”
“Well, I can’t answer that question; all I know is this—six weeks ago my wife and I were in search of a furnished apartment. Passing a quiet street, we saw on the window of one of the houses a bill, ‘Apartments, Furnished.’ The situation suited us: we entered the house—liked the rooms—engaged them by the week—and left them the third day. No power on earth could have reconciled my wife to stay longer; and I don’t wonder at it.”
Continue reading "The Haunted and the Haunters: Or, The House and the Brain"
Posted by andrewanissi at 12:02 AM
May 07, 2005
Buy this book!
 |
My Education by William S. Burroughs Price: $6 |
Posted by andrewanissi at 07:28 PM | Comments (0)
April 30, 2005
HOUSEHOLD GODS
A Comedy By Aleister Crowley
[Privately Printed in 1912]
TO LEILA WADDELL
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SCENE
THE HEARTH OF CRASSUS;
AFTERWARDS THE LAWNS, THE WOODS, THE LAKE, THE ISLE.
CHARACTERS
CRASSUS, a barbarian from Britain.
ADELA, his wife, a noble Roman lady.
ALICIA, a servant in the house.
A STATUE OF PAN.
A FAUN.
HOUSEHOLD GODS
THE SCENE is at the hearth of CRASSUS, where is a little
bronze altar dedicated to the Lares and Penates. A pale
flame rises from the burning sandal-wood, on which CRASSUS
throws benzoin and musk. He is standing in deep dejection.
CRASSUS.
Smoke without fire!
No thrill of tongues licks up
The offerings in the cup.
Dead falls desire.
Continue reading "HOUSEHOLD GODS"
Posted by andrewanissi at 07:23 PM | Comments (0)
April 18, 2005
MY FAVORITE MURDER, by Ambrose Bierce
by Ambrose Bierce (1842 - 1914)
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Having murdered my mother under circumstances of singular atrocity, I
was arrested and put upon my trial, which lasted seven years. In
charging the jury, the judge of the Court of Acquittal remarked that
it was one of the most ghastly crimes that he had ever been called
upon to explain away.
At this, my attorney rose and said:
"May it please your Honor, crimes are ghastly or agreeable only by
comparison. If you were familiar with the details of my client's
previous murder of his uncle you would discern in his later offense
(if offense it may be called) something in the nature of tender
forbearance and filial consideration for the feelings of the victim.
Continue reading "MY FAVORITE MURDER, by Ambrose Bierce"
Posted by andrewanissi at 04:22 PM | Comments (0)
April 11, 2005
The Yellow Sign
by Robert Chambers
Original Publication: 1895 in the compilation, The King in Yellow
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"Let the red dawn surmise
What we shall do,
When this blue starlight dies
And all is through."
I
There are so many things which are impossible to explain! Why should
certain chords in music make me think of the brown and golden tints of
autumn foliage? Why should the Mass of Sainte Cecile bend my thoughts
wandering among caverns whose walls blaze with ragged masses of virgin
silver? What was it in the roar and turmoil of Broadway at six o'clock
that flashed before my eyes the picture of a still Breton forest where
sunlight filtered through spring foliage and Sylvia bent, half curiously, half tenderly, over a small green lizard, murmuring: "To think that this also is a little ward of God!"
Continue reading "The Yellow Sign"
Posted by andrewanissi at 11:51 PM | Comments (0)