"Thomas M. Disch M. - Come to Venus Melancholy" - читать интересную книгу автора (Disch Thomas M)

aloud? He wasnтАЩt able to get at the microfilm library, so thereтАЩs still
plenty of books. When IтАЩm by myself I donтАЩt do anything but read.
It gets to seem as though the whole world was made of print. I
look at it not for whatтАЩs written there but as though it were a
landscape. But I digress.
What do you like; poetry? novels? science texbooks? the
encyclopedia? IтАЩve read all of it so many times I could puke, if
youтАЩll excuse the expression. Whoever selected those books never
heard of the twentieth century. ThereтАЩs nothing later than Robert
Browning and Thomas HardyтАФand would you believe it?тАФsome
of that has been expurgated? What did they think? That Browning
would corrupt my morals? Or JohnтАЩs? Who can understand the
bureaucratic mind?
Personally, I prefer poetry. You donтАЩt get tired of it so
quickly. But maybe thereтАЩs something you need to know, a point of
information? If you could only talk to me. There must be some
way to fix one of the mikes, there has to. Oh, please!
Oh hell.


IтАЩm sorry, but itтАЩs just that itтАЩs so hard to believe that youтАЩre
there. It gets to seem that I only talk to hear myself speak. I wish to
God I could hear myself speak.
Maybe I just sound like static to you. Maybe he smashed the
speakers too, I wouldnтАЩt be surprised. I donтАЩt know. ThereтАЩs no way
I can tell. But I try my best, I think each word very slowly and try
to enunciate mentally. And that way the caterpillars wonтАЩt be
confused. Ha!
IтАЩm really glad youтАЩve come. IтАЩve been so long without
company that IтАЩm grateful even for the illusion of it. DonтАЩt take
offense: since I canтАЩt ever be sure that youтАЩre there, you canтАЩt be
more than illusion for me, whether youтАЩre real or not. A paradox. I
welcome you in either case. With my doors wide open.
ItтАЩs been fifteen years. Fifteen years, four months, twelve
daysтАФand three hours. IтАЩve got this built-in clock connected to
what used to be the nerves of my stomach. IтАЩm never in doubt
about the time. ItтАЩs always right thereтАФlike a bellyache. ThereтАЩve
been whole days when I just listen to myself tick.
I was human once, you know. A married woman, with two
children and a MasterтАЩs in English Lit. A lot of good that ever did.
My thesis was on some letters Milton wrote when he was
CromwellтАЩs Latin Secretary. Dull? YouтАЩd better believe it. Only IтАЩll
ever know how dull.
And yetтАж nowтАж IтАЩd give this whole damn planet to be back
there in the academic squirrel cage, spinning that beautiful, dull
wheel.
Do you like Milton? IтАЩve got the Complete Works, except for
the things he wrote in Latin. I could read you something, if youтАЩd
like.
I used to read things to John, but he didnтАЩt much appreciate it.