[ Truth
]
[ Flammable
]
[ Becomes
Red ]
[ Dream
of ]
[ Bone
]
[ Tooth
]
[ Matter
]
[ Nota
Bene ] |
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The Truth of It
However striking a curiosity
may be, there is generally some difficulty in engaging the attention
of the public; but even this was not the case with the modern
living Colossus, or wonderful "Irish Giant," for no
sooner was he arrived at an elegant apartment at the cane-shop
in Spring Gardens, next door to Cox's Museum, than the curious
of all degrees resorted to see him, being sensible that a prodigy
like this never made its appearance among us before, and the
most penetrating have frankly declared, that neither the tongue
of the most florid orator or pen of the most ingenious writer,
can sufficiently describe the elegance, symmetry and proportion
of this wonderful phenomenon in Nature, and that all description
must fall infinitely short of giving that satisfaction which
may be obtained on a judicious inspection.
—C.J.S.
Thompson, The Mystery and Lore of Monsters
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The Monster on the Staircase
Henri Michaux
I met a monster on the staircase. The difficulty it had in climbing
made watching it excruciating.
This difficulty was strange because its thighs were incredible—you
could almost have said it was all thighs. Two huge thighs on
the paws of a plantigrade.
Its top part didn't seem distinct. Small mouths made of shadow,
of shadow or of...? It didn't really have a body, unless you
count enough of those soft, confusedly moist zones to conjure
up an image of, of some man's, unoccupied, dreaming... But maybe
it wasn't that at all, and, at any rate, this fat monster, probably
a hermaphrodite, was climbing—unhappy, crushed, bestial—a
staircase that likely wouldn't take it anywhere. (I say this
despite the distinct impression I had that it wasn't just out
for a stroll.)
Its aspect was deeply troubling. Bumping into it couldn't have
been good luck.
That it was tainted, you could see straight off. Although it
would be hard to say how.
It seemed to carry, across that indefinite mass, lakes, tiny
lakes, or were they eyelids, immense eyelids?
(trans. Laird Hunt) |
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Issue No. 15 Copyright © 2001 The Transcendental Friend. All
rights revert to the authors upon publication.
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