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“Sometimes I want to suck on a beautiful word. To lick it clean.”
― Babyfucker
― Babyfucker
“Inflate the sentence. Try to make it burst.”
― Babyfucker
― Babyfucker
“I fuck babies. Therefore maybe I am.”
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“I’d like to return to prose after a fifteen-year hiatus. An epistolary novella maybe. A man went into the mountains fifteen years ago to write the following letter to a woman: “Dear B., I’d like to strike you down with an iron rod. Maybe I love you. If you feel the same way and your wishes conform to mine, then please please get in touch with me posthaste. We’ll discuss this matter together and make the necessary arrangements if everything works out. With warm wishes, Your Bernd.” The letter is, however, never mailed and never written. In further letters to B. from Bernd, he pursues, among other things, the question: why? The last letter could be the one in which Bernd lets B. know that the matter has been settled since he has just been struck down by a group of women with iron rods.”
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“O I'm babbling.”
― Babyfucker
― Babyfucker
“But couldn't he burn the twaddle instead of straining it. The story of the man who uses a Bunsen burner to singe from his lips the words with which a story might otherwise have been told.”
― The Old Man and the Bench
― The Old Man and the Bench
