Post Pynchon's quotes that'd convince me to read him

Post Pynchon's quotes that'd convince me to read him

someone post the passage where the dude eats poop

To the bovine of this world - this tourist world at least - love comes, is undergone, and goes away unobtrusive as possible.

A screaming comes across the sky.

> "The way I like to make my chicken breasts is quite simple. There is the normal way, and, my friends, the cultured way. Shakespeare once said, "you are what you eat." And I'm not a chicken breast. So I have to make sure that I'm eating something far more masculine. What I do is this. I freeve the chicken breast until it is solid, and then I drink a few cups of water. Then I pee all over the breast: it is actually sterile, and warms the outside while giving the center a rock hard core. The outside represents the male ego, steamy and sterile, sterilized by an even feminized society. The center is the male id -- cold, hard, determined. This becomes an icon of my very being: and then I must eat it. But the outer layer is still quite wet, so I use the male body's natural napkin, the scrotum, as a drying agent. This is because like any self affirmed male, I respect my natural Dasein. The chicken breast is now at the crossroads between food and thought: and while some might take the fork in the road and eat the breast, I choose to watch it for a while before consumption. It is cold, it is perfect, it is Me."

no way

What is the meaning beyond that? To mock philosophy, psychoanalysis and just cliches?

Pynchons my fav writer for sure because my fav thing in books is goofs, gags, jokes and rambunctious behavior, and his books are full to the brim of it. Every novel is like one of those novelty snake cans, you open the book & POP you get a face fulla snakes and you fall back cackling. The mad mind, the crack genius, to do it! and then you think hmmm whats he gonna do next, this trickster, and you pick the book back up and BZZZZZZZZZZ you get a shock and Hahahahahah you've been pranked again by the old pynchmeister, that card. "Did that Pynch?" he says, laughing yukyukyukyuk. Watch him as he shoves a pair of plastic buck teeth right up into his mouth and displays em for you- left, right, center- "you like dese? Do i look handsome???" Pulls out a mirror. "Ah!" Hand to naughty mouth. And you're on your ass again laughing as he snaps his suspenders, exits stage right, and appears again hauling a huge golden gong.

I think so. It comes in the part of V. that deals with Esther's Dr. visit before surgery so I think it's closer to a mockery of psychoanalysis.

Wonderful post. One almost wishes that for eternity it could be saved. Were it not for the immortal print screen, such a wish would surely go unanswered.

>850 pages of this

I like to think this pasta was actually written by Pynchon.

>I got my twin glock .40s, cocked back
>Me and my homies, so drop that
>We rollin on twenties, with the top back
>So much money, you can't stop that

obligatory meme poopeating scene

>She turns. “Hold up my fur.” He obeys. “Be careful. Don’t
touch my skin.”
Earlier in this game she was nervous, constipated,
wondering if this was anything like male impotence. But
thoughtful Pointsman, anticipating this, has been sending
laxative pills with her meals. Now her intestines whine softly,
and she feels shit begin to slide down and out. He kneels
with his arms up holding the rich cape. A dark turd appears
out the crevice, out of the absolute darkness between her
white buttocks. He spreads his knees, awkwardly, until he
can feel the leather of her boots. He leans forward to
surround the hot turd with his lips, sucking on it tenderly,
licking along its lower side . . . he is thinking, he’s sorry, he
can’t help it, thinking of a Negro’s penis, yes he knows it
abrogates part of the conditions set, but it will not be
denied, the image of a brute African who will make him
behave. . . . The stink of shit floods his nose, gathering him,
surrounding. It is the smell of Passchendaele, of the Salient.
Mixed with the mud, and the putrefaction of corpses, it was
the sovereign smell of their first meeting, and her emblem.
The turd slides into his mouth, down to his gullet. He gags,
but bravely clamps his teeth shut. Bread that would only
have floated in porcelain waters somewhere, unseen,
untasted—risen now and baked in the bitter intestinal Oven
to bread we know, bread that’s light as domestic comfort,
secret as death in bed . . . Spasms in his throat continue.
The pain is terrible. With his tongue he mashes shit against
the roof of his mouth and begins to chew, thickly now, the
only sound in the room. . . .

this is pretty fuckin funny desu

>“What do we do?”
>“You will be the expert in idiomatic English. Say something provocative.”
>Slothrop sticks his head out in the long tunnel and hollers, in his most English accent, “Major Marvy sucks!”
>“Up this way!” Sounds of galloping GI boots, nailheads smacking the concrete and a lot of other ominous metal too going snick . . . snick . . .
>“Now,” beams mischievous Glimpf, setting the hoist in motion.
>A fresh thought occurs to Slothrop. He puts his head back out and hollers
>“Major Marvy sucks NIGGERS!”

This makes me never want to read him.

why

She represents the horror of war, supposedly, and how the people who like it are pretty much eating shit. Passchendaele is an important allusion here, google it. The guy eating the shit is a general, General Brigadier Pudding (kek).

Also, Pointsman (the one who has given laxatives to her) is a creepy scientist dude who's secretly sponsoring his fetish and has sent her to fulfill it without him knowing apparently to keep a tab on him or something for research purposes.

Basically, Pynchon equates this fetish with the desire for death, which he rationally links to the war itself, WW2, in which this takes place.

>hallo mister user, plz read my buk plox
from V (pronounced "five" fyi btw)

... is pynchon a cuck?

did he really mean that?

It seems to me like he's just talking about a dude eating shit.

There was a young fellow named Hector,
Who was fond of a launcher-erector.
But the squishes and pops
Of acute pressure drops
Wrecked Hector's hydraulic connector.

I only read m&d but something is extremely intriguing about him. A lot of people say he's extra paranoid and crazy, but with current surveillance and technology, i sometimes think we're the crazy ones for not living like him

Yeah I just made that up sorry

>ywn do weed-fueled, techno-sexual, anti-establishment payadas with Tommy
mátenmen

Honestly why do you even come here?

>The stink of shit floods his nose, gathering him,
surrounding. It is the smell of Passchendaele, of the Salient.
Mixed with the mud, and the putrefaction of corpses,

Plus the thing with him imagining it a negroid dick I have to think there's something to do with him trying to make amends for the British colonization of Africa.

reads like a Veeky Forums post some pretentious douche tried to transform into high art

what if someone else does it for you?

hi acdc

sup

>"war sucks and everyone who likes it is a poopoo eater"
>how can I dress this simple thought into something that'll get academic faggots hard? shit, where's that psychoanalysis book and my I Ching

DUDE POOP LMAO

There once was a fellow named Slattery
Who was fond of the course-gyro battery.
With that 50-volt shock,
What was left of his cock
Was all slimy and sloppy and spattery.

MAJOR MARVY SUCKS NIGGERS

>In the distance, or smaller, appears to be a woman, approaching. Or some kind of elf, or something. The man isn't looking at her (or it). In the middle distance are haystacks. The flower is shaped like the cunt of a young girl. There is a luminary looking down from the sky, a face on it totally at peace, like the Buddha's. Underneath, someone else has written, in English: "Good drawing! Finish!" and underneath that, in another hand, "It IS finished, you nit. And so are you."

It's like he predicted Veeky Forums

a truly cutting and witty satire

There once was a fellow named Schroeder,
Who buggered the vane servomotor.
He soon grew a prong
On the end of his schlong,
And hired himself a promoter.

>It’s like a Woman, isn’t it, you look at each other, you think Of course not, she thinks Of course not,— yet the Alternatives hang about, don’t they, like Wraiths

Damn Thomas, damn.

There once was a thing called a V-2
To pilot which you did not need to-
You just pushed a button,
And it would leave nuttin'
But stiffs and big holes and debris, too.

There once was a fellow named Hector,
who was fond of a launcher erector,
but the squishes and pops,
of acute pressure drops,
rekt hector's hydraulic connector

...

what did he mean by this?

did he seriously punctuate it this way?

the fuck is with these pomo authors and punctuation, anyway? this is not free jazz, and free jazz sucks anyway. just write it so I can scan it at a glance. what's next, a "novel" that's a video of an interpretive dance?

As if, ya knob. I'm sure you've seen that 'ancient shitposting' image no?

Suck a fat one.

sounds like you want to suck pinecone's fat one, but I bet it's barely average.

A, screaming, cums across this guy

...

btfo

Is that what you'd call exit-level literature?

The GIs that constantly say limericks in unison is one of the funniest parts of GR.

As outrageous as Vonnegut
I like it

>says
>not sez

In case you're not contrarian bait, there are perfectly good reasons for this kind of punctuating. It's difficult in order to make you aware of the process of interpretation. It's a "jolting" effect, defamiliarising, which is used to avoid falling into the ideological trap of assuming that language communicates straightforward meaning. You can argue about whether it really avoids that trap, or whether it's worth avoiding at all, but if it wasn't written that way, the text would be disingenuous and inconsistent within its own ethic

sounds like a rap. where is this from?

this shitpost is an encapsulation of the experience I've had reading three separate Pynchon books. The dude tries too hard

When Mason is talking to Florinda about erections at the hanging

Gravity's Rainbow

yeah I fucking hate when an author tries

Which part of the book has these kinds of rhymes? It's interesting

The bit about Marvys mothers. American G.I's that recite limericks in unison.

huh. that's a bit maddening.

Is it very bad that I don't get it?
P. S. English is not my native language.

Not really. Pynchon's got a pretty idiosyncratic style that a lot of native English speakers find to be difficult. A lot of it has to do with just random chance. I find Pynchon easy to read, despite not being a particularly good reader (I find things like The Sound and The Fury difficult to parse) just because some people are naturally predisposed to "get" him and some aren't, I've noticed

>The baker's trade terrified the young man. He learn'd as much of it as would keep him going, -- but when he began to see into it, the smells, the unaccountable swelling of the dough, the over door like a door before a Sacrament, -- the daily repetitions of smell and ferment and some hidden Drama, as in the Mass, -- was he fleeing to the repetitions of the Sky, believing them safer, not as saturated in life and death? If Christ's Body could enter Bread, then what else might? -- might it not be as easily haunted by ghosts less welcome? Alone in the early empty mornings even for a few seconds with the mute white rows, he was overwhelmed by the ghostliness of Bread.

is this supposed to make you think or is this just another goof/gag?

I find it funny is why I ask.

i think he's being funny, but in a sweet sincere way
it's a nice thought that's dealt with playfully

Which chapter? Sorry, not too familiar with this book. I've heard it namedropped before though.

the book has only four chapters and it happens somewhere in the third chapter, which is like 500 pages long.

>the male body's natural napkin, the scrotum
+1

The book is full of little goofy songs