Ok ok ok i'm going now to write my essay, which happens to be due tomorrow (haha you were right sarah - my plan did sound too civilised to be real). But first, read this! It will change your life! (disclaimer: it may possibly change your life, if your life is easily changed by strange surrealist writing by andre breton - the first and foremost misogynistic, homophobic surrealist - but we love him anyway). I particularly like the line about champagne but maybe thats just because i like champagne.

Enjoy! and may the holidays come as soon as possible...

A short excerpt from Breton’s “Soluble Fish”, 1924:

“Birds lose their form after they lose their colours. They are reduced to a spider-like existence so deceptive that I throw the gauntlet down far away. My yellow gauntlets with the black stitching fall on a plain with a fragile tower looking down on it. I then cross my arms and watch. I watch for laughs that come out of the ground and immediately flower, umbels. Night has come, like a carp jumping on the surface of violet water, and strange laurels are interlaced in the sky that descends from the sea. Someone ties together a bundle of burning faggots in the woods and the woman or the fairy who loads it on her back seems to be flying now, while stars the colour of champagne become motionless. Rain begins to fall; it is an eternal grace and it has the most delicate reflections. In a single drop there is the passage of a yellow bridge through lilac gypsy caravans; in another that outdistances it are a carefree life and crimes in country inns. In the south, in a cove, love shakes its hair full of shadow and is a propitious boat that circles on the roofs. But the rings of water break one by one and the dawn of a finger is placed On the towering packet of nocturnal landscapes. The prostitute begins her song that is more roundabout than a cool brook in the country of Cloven Garlic, but despite everything it is only an absence. A real lily elevated to the glory of stars undoes the thighs of combustion that is awakening and the group that they form goes off to find the shore. But the soul of the other woman is covered with white feathers that gently fan her. Truth rests on the mathematical reeds of the infinite and everything moves forward by order of the eagle riding pillion, while the genius of vegetable flotillas claps and the oracle is pronounced by fluid electric fish.”