J. G. Ballard, November 15, 1930 – April 19, 2009.
62 notes
·
View notes
Aside from the fact that we generally own or are at the controls of the crashing vehicle, the car crash differs from other disasters in that it involves the most powerfully advertised commercial product of this century, an iconic entity that combines the elements of speed, power, dream and freedom within a highly stylised format that defuses any fears we may have of the inherent dangers of these violent and unstable machines.
The Atrocity Exhibition by J. G. Ballard.
51 notes
·
View notes
The Atrocity Exhibition (2000)
Jonathan Weiss
188 notes
·
View notes
One needs a great deal of idle time to feel really sorry for oneself.
J. G. Ballard, Cocaine Nights
211 notes
·
View notes
From J. G. Ballard’s Crash
12 notes
·
View notes
hello, can i request something about city living, if you haven't already done it yet? love your webs <3
Italo Calvino, Invisible Cities
Ed Sheeran, The City
Noor Unnahar, New Names for Lost Things; ‘Return’
The Great Gatsby (2013) dir. Baz Luhrmann
J. G. Ballard, High-Rise
Alexander McCall-Smith, The Sunday Philosophy Club
Olivia Laing, The Lonely City (via The Guardian)
Terry Pratchett, Men at Arms
Christopher Morley, Where the Blue Begins
159 notes
·
View notes
I remember my first minor collision in a deserted hotel car-park. Disturbed by a police patrol, we had forced ourselves through a hurried sex-act. Reversing out of the park, I struck an unmarked tree. Catherine vomited over my seat. This pool of vomit with its clots of blood like liquid rubies, as viscous and discreet as everything produced by Catherine, still contains for me the essence of the erotic delirium of the car-crash, more exciting than her own rectal and vaginal mucus, as refined as the excrement of a fairy queen, or the minuscule globes of liquid that formed beside the bubbles of her contact lenses. In this magic pool, lifting from her throat like a rare discharge of fluid from the mouth of a remote and mysterious shrine, I saw my own reflection, a mirror of blood, semen and vomit, distilled from a mouth whose contours only a few minutes before had drawn steadily against my penis.
Crash by J. G. Ballard.
9 notes
·
View notes
The arts and criminality have always flourished side by side.
J. G. Ballard, Cocaine Nights
158 notes
·
View notes