The magic in these Masonic rituals is very, very old. And way back in those days, it worked. As time went on, and it started being used for spectacle… - Thomas Pynchon
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The magic in these Masonic rituals is very, very old. And way back in those days, it worked. As time went on, and it started being used for spectacle, to consolidate what were only secular appearances of power, it began to lose its zip. But the words, moves, and machinery have been more or less faithfully carried down over the millennia, through the grim rationalizing of the World, and so the magic is still there, though latent, needing only to touch the right sensitive head to reassert itself.
Thomas Ruggles Pynchon, Jr. (born 8 May 1937) is an American writer based in New York City, known for his dense and complex works of fiction.
Biography information from
Wikiquote·
Portrait adapted from
Wikimedia Commons, Photo presumably taken by "Mr. DiLillo", who was identified as staff photographer of The Oysterette (Mead 1989, p. 170). (Public domain / CC0)
Also Known As
Alternative Names:
Thomas Ruggles Pynchon, Jr.
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Thomas Ruggles Pynchon
Portrait from Wikimedia Commons. Credit: Photo presumably taken by "Mr. DiLillo", who was identified as staff photographer of The Oysterette (Mead 1989, p. 170).. Used under Public domain / CC0. Processed and styled by Quotewise.
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Last night I dreamed I was plugged right in To a bubblin' hookah so high, When all of a sudden some Arab jinni Jump up just a-winkin' his eye. 'I'm here to obey all your wishes,' he told me. As for words I was trying to grope. 'Good buddy,' I cried, 'you could surely oblige me By turning me on to some dope!' With a bigfat smile he took ahold of my hand, And we flew down the sky in a flash, And the first thing I saw in the land where he took me Was a whole solid mountain of hash! All the trees was a-bloomin' with pink 'n' purple pills, Whur the Romilar River flowed by, To the magic mushrooms as wild as a rainbow, So pretty that I wanted to cry. All the girls come to greet us, so sweet in slow motion, Mourning glories woven into their hair, Bringin' great big handfuls of snowy cocaine, All their dope they were eager to share. We we dallied for days, just a-ballin' and smokin', In the flowering Panama Red, Just piggin' on peyote and nutmeg tea, And those brownies so kind to your head. Now I could've passed that good time forever, And I really was fixing to stay, But you know that jinni turned out, t'be a narco man, And he busted me right whur I lay. And he took me back to a cold, cold world 'N' now m'prison's whurever I be... And I dream of the days back in Doperland And I wonder, will I ever go free?
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