The music softens manners : click
here initially.
However thus, the only preparations which you will not find in our
dispensary, they are the laxatives. You will catch up with
yourselves in certain booksellers. Indeed, the beachcomber of the
literatures guaranteed by the multinationals of the edition and the
Philistines
sweep all on its passage. Smooth and well moulded texts. Manufacture
with the punch,
massacres Canadian forests, complicities between advertising
advertisers and groups
of press,
a beautiful bazaar !
A system which evacuates the author to reduce it to a small servile
writer or to a calf of intensive breeding, and a whole colic
of people receiving benefits who decide in the place of the reader of
what must be beautiful and presentable. Consumable,
rather. I
spend, therefore I am. Which makes fun one, frankly? Even
time of
Voltaire, the writers were freer, even with risk to collect some
drubbing. There existed of the Knight of Rohan
equipped with enough spirit to shout with their servants : "do
not
strike with the head, it can still leave something it good !"
And it returns to me in memory the words of Fauna bonesetter or of Adam
the ancestor, I forgot (the Search of Aldoran,
category
purgative) : "They make me laugh, those of now, with their
paper ! To entrust its ideas to a material of which one is
used for oneself especially to wipe the bottom, it is not to fear the
ridiculous one and to doubt nothing. With the first rain, Time will gum
them of its register. "
But is paper or not paper, a reason to do work of pig, I require
it of you ?
It is this indignation which led me to compose and manufacture a
volume which would not resemble any known : Adventures of
Doctor
Enfoyrus, illustrated philosophical novel, Avignon, 1996, ISBN
2911344006,
293 pages, Great
Price of the Almanac of the Werewolf. Do not buy especially
where
point the ISBN, one sells it to you at price scarcity of
collection
and it costs the skin of the bottom. Me, I get
it to you by correspondence for 20 euros less, port included,
original edition, not-soiled, at the heading : Your treatment
What does it contain, this worthy black book ? Imagine, if
you
can it, a synthesis of INSANE WHO SELLS
the WISDOM and REVEALED INDIA decorated of a procession of
delirious illustrations, where each character would have his dedicated
bill of character. Not convinced ? Look
at there. Puffing out paper, ink sepia,
monochromic cover
with the engraving of Bruegel
the Old man who opens the site in
the foreground. Madness, that one says to you !
But most romantic, it is the history of its design. That one, I will
never tell it to you because you would not believe me...
Just this small detail for the setting in mouth : a
beautiful morning, my paper maker delivered by error two tons of paper
in my model maker and the window with this elephant smashed to him. I
will not say any more. With the
e-books, at least, one does not undergo the inertia of the
matter. And the Web, that further carries than the
blowpipe
from Télécons.
Lastly, of manner of service of press, here what I wrote at the time
with the two hundred journalists to which I had offered a specimen and
which thanked me with five articles --no comment :
Mister the
Ambassador
of the Literature,
No, the book that I propose to
you today
is not
that of a Parisian editor, and we will comfort ourselves some. No, it
does not emanate from a famous writer to the thousand recognized
talents that the genius would prevent from sleeping or would deaden the
others. But if, without too much supposing your forces nor of your
patience, I request that you warn the public of the birth of this work
as of what it is advisable to say, it is that I know that by entrusting
it to your expert hands, one withdraws it from the sight of an imbecile
of less. By thanking you for your media comprehension ; Yours
sincerely, dear Sir, and with soon, perhaps : successes of the writing
open to me the window.
And further adding, so that the suicide was more complete,
Admittedly, in your
districts nobody
invites me :
I am not those which a
godfather
recommends,
Hugues de Margoulin or
Jean de
Brocéliande ;
But all alone I fight to
raise my
voice
Above the herd of the
works
still-born children,
In this immense sea with
dubious
contours,
Pandemonium the insane
ones,
exaggerated minute-books,
Where I plunged my heart
and hope the
one morning.
The force of the subject
is worth
although one stops there,
It is the work of
anxious, of an
Absolute the search.
If one reads it from the
end to the
prelude,
The life of a very
learned scientist
will be known
Who lost one fine day
all his
certainty,
Because it had built on
moving sand.
I save the
continuation to
you, because that is not arranged.
Young people who now read me, never do that. You would bail out ten
years of purgatory.
A summary
?
Unrepentant consumers and
DraculaS
of motorway, flee our den !
Mowgli and me, we
declare you this.