Word: deathly
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Dates: during 1960-1969
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...fluid immediacy of impresssonism and the starker psychology of expressionism began to lose their distinctiveness and prove permeable and complementary. The last magnificent statements of the musical expressionistic esthetic were Alban Berg's operas Wozzeck (1921) and Lulu (1935), and his Violin Concerto (1935), an elegy written upon the death on Mahler's daughter Manon. The neurasthenic romanticism of Mahler was transmuted in these works to a testament and a valedictory. The plasticity of musical idioms was clearly responding to a mellower comprehension of what had happened to man as a result of the conflagration. Composers were succeeding in speaking...
Thus the artist "Fiddleman" (Malamud's pun) is officially pronounced dead. But out of his almost interminable death agonies, Fidelman (a faithful human being) has been born...
...into finer powder--the acceptance of the final negative -- Transplant says that when you don't have any more excuses for yourself, you're dead, that's why even rich addicts lie and steal. No. No. Each and every argument for anything at all ends with the final no. Death. NO. No. Everything is no: no love, no hate, no energy, no sense, no time, no space, no place, no people, no you; even yes is no: yes to the needle, yes to the cookery, yes to every no that has ever not been or been or however. However...
Fill the syringe, don't spill, hot glutin, like sperm thinned out, you're a better man, the ultimate power of the penis is yours, life-giving death, the shock of mortality, the paralytic realization of death. There are too many bruises on your arm, so probe a little, who cares anymore? It'll only hurt for a second. Push -- watchit goddamit your fingers are so wet it's slipping shit!--the bubbles are out. One last review before...
hardly since the beginning of time has man ever discovered . . . what tell me!!! what is it that man has never discovered???? please, i must know--it is a matter of life and death. . . . "that's right," he said (the whole in the wall in the wheel of the world). . . . "it's a matter of your life, heh, heh." . . . and then he zapped him with a tompson submachine gun brrrraaapppppp. but the pellets dissolved and scattered into a 1000 tiny motes that resembled pieces of the 160 tons of sunlight that fall to the ground every day. "i'm a sunflower...