Sunday, November 16, 2014

Richard Brautigan

He was in the worst mood I had ever heard him in. It was as if the elevator of hell had gone crashing through his life, making an elevator-shaped hole in his spirit.

Soon he was weeping.

I listened very carefully and understandingly to what no person ever wants to hear, which they do not need to hear. It does them no good and generates a huge vacuum of helplessness.

What could I do? Except to be his friend and listen . . . and listen . . . and listen . . . and listen . . . and listen until the act of listening dropped an elevator of hell through my soul.

You would need some strange meter, perhaps designed by Kafka, to measure who felt worse now: him or me. The dial, if there were a dial on Kafka's meter, would probably register our lives at just about identical readings.

- Richard Brautigan, An Unfortunate Woman (page 87)

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