9.07.2011

Alan Moore

I've been reading WATCHMEN, written by Alan Moore, illustrated by Dave Gibbons. Here is some text I've been enjoying:

Nite Owl writing On Owls: "...I suddently and unexpectedly heard the cry of a hunting owl. It was a bird advanced in years, its shriek that of a deranged old man, wheeling madly through thedark and freezing sky against the ragged night clouds, and the sound halted me in my footsteps. It is a fallacy to suppose that owls screech to startle their prey from hiding, as some have suggested; the cry of the hunting owl is a voice from Hell, and it turns the scrabbling voles to statues, roots the weasel to the soil. In my instant of paralysis there on the glistening macadam, between the sleeping automobiles, I understood the purpose behind the cry with a biting clarity, the way I'd understood it as a boy, belly flat against the warm summer earth. In that extended and timeless moment, I felt the kinship of simple animal fear along with all those other creatures much smaller and more vulnerable than I who had heard the scream as I had heard it, were struck motionless as I was. The owl was not attempting to frighten his food into revealing itself. Perched with disconcerting stillness upon its brnach for hours,drinking in the darkness through dilated and thirsty pupils, the owl had already spotted its dinner. The screech served merely to transifx the chosen morsel, pinning it to the ground wit ha shrill nail of blind, helpless terror....
Somewhere away in the crepuscular gloom...I heard something small emit its ultimate squeal... It wasn't screaming for us, not this time. We could continue with our nocturnal business, with our lives... We were not twitching nervelessly in stifling, stinking darkness, head first down the gullet of the swooping horror, our tails dangling pathetically from that vicious scimitar beak for hours before finally our hind legs and pelvic girdle are disgorged, our empty, matted skin curiously inverted by the process."

Rorschach speaking On Humanity: " Stood in street. Watched it burn. Imagined limbless felt torsos inside; breasts blackening; bellies smoldering; bursting into flame one by one. Watched for an hour. Nobody got out. Stood in fire light, sweltering. Bloodstain on chest like map of violent new continent. Felt cleansed. Felt dark planet turn under my feet and knew what cats know that makes them scream like babies in the night. Looked at sky through smoke heavy with human fat and God was not there. The cold, suffocating dar goes on forever, and we are alone. 
Live our lives, lacking anything better to do. Devise reason later. Born from oblivion; bear children, hellbound as ourselves; go into oblivion. There is nothing else." 





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