The Flamethrowers

by Rachel Kushner

There is no fixed reality, only objects in contrast. Even the Earth is moving.

I was in an acute case of the present tense.

“Come on, Stanley,” Gloria said. “You devalue the tear when you do this. You really do.”

“The power and emptiness of words. And yet they rule us nonetheless. Are the sole horizon. Language as the house of being. The home of being, excuse me.”

you know what I think of language? That it’s a fake horizon and there’s something else, a real truthful thing, but language is keeping us from it. And I think we should torture language to stop fucking around and tell it to us. We should torture language to tell the truth.”

I felt free of that. Like I could float up to the ceiling, unweighted by the burden of a male ego. I would float on up and not be afraid.