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You kick off your shoes and flop onto the bed—landing, of course, among millions of mites. Had you any inkling that your bedding was alive with arthropodic crablets, chomping away on flakes of your dead skin, you would be so disgusted you would probably choose to lie on the floor. Yet every one of us, including the rich, the pious, and the royal of blood, sleeps each night in colonies of such mites. The ultimate witnesses, the most intimate voyeurs, these mites. What books they might author, what tales they could tell! Imagine the memoirs of a multitude of minuscule malcolm lowrys, expatriates in a martex mexico, soused on dandruff tequila, living and writing under the volcano of love. Jolted by mattress-quakes, buried by thigh-slides, swept away by flash floods of seminal lava, they cling to the linen with their petite pincers, recording with literary objectivity our orgasms, our fevers, our pillow talk, our dreams. Who knows more of our secrets? Who? Nightly, and often by day, they sail with us in the lunar barge, their flake steaks marinated in our tearwater, their breakfast boiled in our sweat, the winds of our farting at play in their hair. They are familiar with wife and mistress, husband and lover, hot-water bottle and fetish, favorite sitcom and favorite drug; have memorized confession, recrimination, prayer, delirium, and that sweet name we cry out in our sleep. Our babies are conceived—and born—in their midst; our parents—and someday we ourselves—die in what passes for their arms. Yes, all this but the mites do not betray us. If they gossip, it is only among themselves. Perhaps they see an order in our messy bed-lives—our tossings and turnings, moans and nightmares, snacks and snores and trading of partners—that we have not discovered yet. Perhaps they regard us as glorious, even; as agents of the raw miraculous, capable at any moment—not in spite of our folly but because of it—of a transcendence that exceeds transformance. As a rule, we do not sing in our beds. We have no need. The mites sing for us. Sing of us. They are our Greek chorus, our geek chorus, choirs of microscopic angels ever ready to dance on the head of a pin. Their appetites are ghoulish, their hunger divine. They are what they eat.
Excerpt from a bedmite tome:
Shortly before eleven on the night before Easter, our hostess, Gwendolyn Mati (fully clothed, unfortunately), lay herself down in our city to gather her wits, to collect her thoughts, to sort things out—things ranging from rectal cancer to sugary aromas, from missing friends to the possible demise of that powerful and enduring conviction that every generation of Americans could and would move beyond the social and economic station of its predecessor. However, being chaotic, overwhelmed, worried, frazzled, exhausted, severely disappointed yet strangely free, her various thoughts coagulated, her mind went to testpattern, and she slipped rather quickly into slumber. Within minutes, she commenced to dream. A voice spoke to her in her dream, spoke so loudly and distinctly (although it dragged its syllables contemptuously through its proboscis, in the manner of that bulbous old comedian on the late, late show) that we heard it above our traffic and crunching, as clearly as if it were there in the sheets. Startled, Ms. Mati reared up in bed. And in a low, wondering whisper, she repeated the statement we all had overheard.
"The Fool's journey ends on Sirius C."
When the stock market crashes on the Thursday before Easter, you—an ambitious, although ineffectual and not entirely ethical young broker—are convinced that you’re facing the Weekend from Hell. Before the market reopens on Monday, you’re going to have to scramble and scheme to cover your butt, but there’s no way you can anticipate the baffling disappearance of a 300-pound psychic, the fall from grace of a born-again monkey, or the intrusion in your life of a tattooed stranger intent on blowing your mind and most of your fuses. Over these fateful three days, you will be forced to confront everything from mysterious African rituals to legendary amphibians, from tarot-card bombshells to street violence, from your own sexuality to outer space. This is, after all, a Tom Robbins novel—and the author has never been in finer form.
Les informations fournies dans la section « A propos du livre » peuvent faire référence à une autre édition de ce titre.
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Vers Etats-Unis
Vendeur : ThriftBooks-Atlanta, AUSTELL, GA, Etats-Unis
Paperback. Etat : Good. No Jacket. Pages can have notes/highlighting. Spine may show signs of wear. ~ ThriftBooks: Read More, Spend Less 0.74. N° de réf. du vendeur G184243036XI3N00
Quantité disponible : 1 disponible(s)
Vendeur : mountain, GEORGETOWN, CO, Etats-Unis
Etat : Acceptable. Book shows heavy wear all around, cover and book edges are worn. N° de réf. du vendeur 2DF9XU000M7G
Quantité disponible : 1 disponible(s)
Vendeur : AwesomeBooks, Wallingford, Royaume-Uni
Paperback. Etat : Very Good. Half Asleep In Frog Pajamas This book is in very good condition and will be shipped within 24 hours of ordering. The cover may have some limited signs of wear but the pages are clean, intact and the spine remains undamaged. This book has clearly been well maintained and looked after thus far. Money back guarantee if you are not satisfied. See all our books here, order more than 1 book and get discounted shipping. . N° de réf. du vendeur 7719-9781842430361
Quantité disponible : 1 disponible(s)
Vendeur : Book Deals, Tucson, AZ, Etats-Unis
Etat : Fair. Acceptable/Fair condition. Book is worn, but the pages are complete, and the text is legible. Has wear to binding and pages, may be ex-library. 0.71. N° de réf. du vendeur 353-184243036X-acp
Quantité disponible : 1 disponible(s)
Vendeur : WeBuyBooks, Rossendale, LANCS, Royaume-Uni
Etat : Good. Most items will be dispatched the same or the next working day. A tan to the pages. N° de réf. du vendeur wbb0023484092
Quantité disponible : 1 disponible(s)
Vendeur : GF Books, Inc., Hawthorne, CA, Etats-Unis
Etat : Very Good. Book is in Used-VeryGood condition. Pages and cover are clean and intact. Used items may not include supplementary materials such as CDs or access codes. May show signs of minor shelf wear and contain very limited notes and highlighting. 0.71. N° de réf. du vendeur 184243036X-2-3
Quantité disponible : 1 disponible(s)
Vendeur : WorldofBooks, Goring-By-Sea, WS, Royaume-Uni
Paperback. Etat : Fair. A readable copy of the book which may include some defects such as highlighting and notes. Cover and pages may be creased and show discolouration. N° de réf. du vendeur GOR003116587
Quantité disponible : 3 disponible(s)
Vendeur : WorldofBooks, Goring-By-Sea, WS, Royaume-Uni
Paperback. Etat : Fine. N° de réf. du vendeur GOR011210560
Quantité disponible : 1 disponible(s)
Vendeur : WorldofBooks, Goring-By-Sea, WS, Royaume-Uni
Paperback. Etat : Very Good. The book has been read, but is in excellent condition. Pages are intact and not marred by notes or highlighting. The spine remains undamaged. N° de réf. du vendeur GOR001863557
Quantité disponible : 6 disponible(s)
Vendeur : Reuseabook, Gloucester, GLOS, Royaume-Uni
Paperback. Etat : Used; Good. Dispatched, from the UK, within 48 hours of ordering. This book is in good condition but will show signs of previous ownership. Please expect some creasing to the spine and/or minor damage to the cover. Damaged cover. The cover of is slightly damaged for instance a torn or bent corner. Aged book. Tanned pages and age spots, however, this will not interfere with reading. Grubby book may have mild dirt or some staining, mostly on the edges of pages. N° de réf. du vendeur CHL9939459
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