Miranda’s Reviews > Herr F > Status Update

"I can feel it: a kick inside my belly. Agnes, my female character based on the artist Louise Bourgeois, is trying to come back.

After I knowingly infected Gretchen with syphilis in the hope of broadening her mind, I began slowly and carefully to show little flashes of Agnes here and there. Perhaps there was something homeopathic about it; I didn’t want to scare Gretchen away again,"

"I have sold my soul, I have sired the world’s most ridiculous best seller, I live in an unfeasible house, I have won and then lost my sweetheart, I have been kicked around by a racist shepherd and now I am contemplating getting a dead man’s face grafted onto the front of my head. This in addition to my two prosthetic limbs. I feel like a golem, a lumbering human patchwork, an abomination."

"I will later be informed, via Twitter’s 140-character limit, that Gretchen has gone mad, drowned my son and been sentenced for murder. I will try unsuccessfully to rescue her from death row, but it will take a deus ex machina to do that."

"We’re in Vienna, of course, and the cave at the tip of the lily is a nightclub folly decorated with crinkled crape and draped velvet. It looks and feels like the inside of a humid vagina; the clitoris is a pink chandelier. Gretchen sits on a chair with a dead magazine, waiting for me to emerge from the hallway where love’s never been. Lust quickly moves us to a bed where the moon has been sweating."

"By becoming famous for writing about moss, and by selling my posthumous existence to the devil, I, Heinrich Faust, have scored a triple whammy: I have combined moss, death and fame into a sort of existential sandwich. I have then munched into my sandwich, only to be disappointed that the ingredients all taste the same."

"Press: Are you bald, that you have to wear that wig?

Faust: It’s worse than that.

Press: Are you for real?

Faust: Come and have a feel."

This is too Momus...

I got distracted...I'm sorry I'm leaving my own plan.