August 22, 2008
Sometimes I believe that this less material life is our truer life, and that our vain presence on the terraqueous globe is itself the secondary or merely virtual phenomenon
McSweeney's presents selections from H.P. Lovecraft's brief tenure as a Whitman's Sampler Copywriter. As the title of this post suggests, Lovecraft is difficult to parody adequately. I have no doubt that to watch him choose from a box of chocolates would have
been terrifying opened a yawning dreamscape of abyssal dimension made tolerable only by the inadequacy of a simian nervous system to correlate that which it cannot apprehend.
You must not think me mad when I tell you what I found below the thin shell of chocolate used to disguise this bonbon's true face. Yes! Hidden beneath its rich exterior is a hideously moist cherry cordial! What deranged architect could have engineered this non-Euclidean aberration? I dare not speculate.
More geography: The New York Post reports on H.P. Lovecraft's Brooklyn apartment, the soul of which he described as being "something unwholesome, something furtive, something vast lying subterraneanly in obnoxious slumber." The current tenant? A children's books marketer; she has been having vivid dreams.
Posted by Ghost of a flea at August 22, 2008 06:41 AM