The World Keeps Ending, and the World Goes On
Metadata
- Author: Franny Choi
- Full Title: The World Keeps Ending, and the World Goes On
- Category:#books
Highlights
- Human History, a front parlor infinitely painted over with massacre, and into the fray came I, highly allergic, quick to cry, and armed with fat fists of need. I broke everything I touched. (Location 141)
- bomb and bomb and bomb already dropped, already having made me from its dust, already broken and paid for and straddling my crown. What crown? If I’m king of anything, it’s being late. Omw, I type, though I’m still huddled in last year’s mistakes. Asteroid, Alexa corrects, and I say, Five minutes. Just give me five minutes. I’ll be right there. (Location 155)
- O shitstorm, it’s impossible to be alive, impossible to be dead. So, brainlessly, I tongue the news again, instead. I have no condition but this: ill-timed optimism; a disturbing tendency toward pleasure; (Location 176)
New highlights added November 23, 2022 at 4:21 AM
- All night, happy Americans honk their horns. We did it, they scream into our window. In the morning, We is all over the floor. We sweep We into a paper bag and label it EMERGENCY. (Location 186)
New highlights added November 25, 2022 at 12:16 AM
- It Is What It Is Each morning, on her way to make a living, my mother passes that business, now closed, where— I’ve tried not to think of it— a man killed three Korean mothers just like mine. Her voice echoes, heavy, into the tunnel between us: What am I supposed to do? Be afraid? What am I supposed to do? In the tunnel between us, her voice echoes, heavy just like mine. A man killed three Korean mothers. I’ve tried not to think of it. That business, now closed. Where to make a life? My mother passes each morning on her way. (Location 220)
- Dystopia everything I eat is touched with money; dystopia everything I am is touched; (Location 270)
- Dystopia press your thumb here to access your memories; Dystopia to stop remembering one’s memories; Dystopia to keep remembering one’s memories; Dystopia to be flattened or flared at a memory’s notice; at a hair; (Location 272)
- an opposite word but not that one; please; not sticky with sap; not synthetic sugar and cruel; what’s the other opposite world; if we knew its name could we call it; if we called it would it come; (Location 279)
New highlights added November 27, 2022 at 12:43 PM
- not gibberish, I mean, but language so sacred it’s not my place to try to decipher it, phonemes holy as stones on a string, mysterious as the names we give to animals, or words we know only in prayer—at (Location 317)
title: The World Keeps Ending, and the World Goes On author: Franny Choi url: date: 2022-11-30 source: kindle tags: media/books
The World Keeps Ending, and the World Goes On
Metadata
- Author: Franny Choi
- Full Title: The World Keeps Ending, and the World Goes On
- Category:#books
Highlights
- Human History, a front parlor infinitely painted over with massacre, and into the fray came I, highly allergic, quick to cry, and armed with fat fists of need. I broke everything I touched. (Location 141)
- bomb and bomb and bomb already dropped, already having made me from its dust, already broken and paid for and straddling my crown. What crown? If I’m king of anything, it’s being late. Omw, I type, though I’m still huddled in last year’s mistakes. Asteroid, Alexa corrects, and I say, Five minutes. Just give me five minutes. I’ll be right there. (Location 155)
- O shitstorm, it’s impossible to be alive, impossible to be dead. So, brainlessly, I tongue the news again, instead. I have no condition but this: ill-timed optimism; a disturbing tendency toward pleasure; (Location 176)
- All night, happy Americans honk their horns. We did it, they scream into our window. In the morning, We is all over the floor. We sweep We into a paper bag and label it EMERGENCY. (Location 186)
- It Is What It Is Each morning, on her way to make a living, my mother passes that business, now closed, where— I’ve tried not to think of it— a man killed three Korean mothers just like mine. Her voice echoes, heavy, into the tunnel between us: What am I supposed to do? Be afraid? What am I supposed to do? In the tunnel between us, her voice echoes, heavy just like mine. A man killed three Korean mothers. I’ve tried not to think of it. That business, now closed. Where to make a life? My mother passes each morning on her way. (Location 220)
- Dystopia everything I eat is touched with money; dystopia everything I am is touched; (Location 270)
- Dystopia press your thumb here to access your memories; Dystopia to stop remembering one’s memories; Dystopia to keep remembering one’s memories; Dystopia to be flattened or flared at a memory’s notice; at a hair; (Location 272)
- an opposite word but not that one; please; not sticky with sap; not synthetic sugar and cruel; what’s the other opposite world; if we knew its name could we call it; if we called it would it come; (Location 279)
- not gibberish, I mean, but language so sacred it’s not my place to try to decipher it, phonemes holy as stones on a string, mysterious as the names we give to animals, or words we know only in prayer—at (Location 317)
- : I sit on the train toward Chicago and mourn the avocado softening in my kitchen. This, too, is practice, avocado being the smallest unit of grief. It’s rock and ripe and gone; rock and ripe and gone. Which should be a lesson. (Location 384)
New highlights added November 30, 2022 at 3:56 AM
- consider the way a horror like that might burrow into the stuff of a people, not just its genes, but its jokes, the shapes of its crosswalks, the lines of its art. (Location 458)
- just the flat time signature of sequence; terrible, indifferent sequence, which leads from the detonations, to carnage, to freedom(?), to carnage, to an airplane in the sky carrying a woman carrying a clumsy gathering of cells that will one day look backwards and see, in that line, only endings, endings, endings— (Location 466)
- Sliced from bone, my life hung like a jaw—faultless. And unforgivable. (Location 468)
- I’m a child of immigrants, of strategic importance, of imports from one immolation to another. (Location 476)
- If the land in me could speak to the land I live on, what would it say? Maybe I’m sorry. Or, where does it hurt? (Location 479)
title: “The World Keeps Ending, and the World Goes On” author: “Franny Choi” url: "" date: 2023-12-19 source: kindle tags: media/books
The World Keeps Ending, and the World Goes On
Metadata
- Author: Franny Choi
- Full Title: The World Keeps Ending, and the World Goes On
- Category:#books
Highlights
- Human History, a front parlor infinitely painted over with massacre, and into the fray came I, highly allergic, quick to cry, and armed with fat fists of need. I broke everything I touched. (Location 141)
- bomb and bomb and bomb already dropped, already having made me from its dust, already broken and paid for and straddling my crown. What crown? If I’m king of anything, it’s being late. Omw, I type, though I’m still huddled in last year’s mistakes. Asteroid, Alexa corrects, and I say, Five minutes. Just give me five minutes. I’ll be right there. (Location 155)
- O shitstorm, it’s impossible to be alive, impossible to be dead. So, brainlessly, I tongue the news again, instead. I have no condition but this: ill-timed optimism; a disturbing tendency toward pleasure; (Location 176)
- All night, happy Americans honk their horns. We did it, they scream into our window. In the morning, We is all over the floor. We sweep We into a paper bag and label it EMERGENCY. (Location 186)
- It Is What It Is Each morning, on her way to make a living, my mother passes that business, now closed, where— I’ve tried not to think of it— a man killed three Korean mothers just like mine. Her voice echoes, heavy, into the tunnel between us: What am I supposed to do? Be afraid? What am I supposed to do? In the tunnel between us, her voice echoes, heavy just like mine. A man killed three Korean mothers. I’ve tried not to think of it. That business, now closed. Where to make a life? My mother passes each morning on her way. (Location 220)
- Dystopia everything I eat is touched with money; dystopia everything I am is touched; (Location 270)
- Dystopia press your thumb here to access your memories; Dystopia to stop remembering one’s memories; Dystopia to keep remembering one’s memories; Dystopia to be flattened or flared at a memory’s notice; at a hair; (Location 272)
- an opposite word but not that one; please; not sticky with sap; not synthetic sugar and cruel; what’s the other opposite world; if we knew its name could we call it; if we called it would it come; (Location 279)
- not gibberish, I mean, but language so sacred it’s not my place to try to decipher it, phonemes holy as stones on a string, mysterious as the names we give to animals, or words we know only in prayer—at (Location 317)
- : I sit on the train toward Chicago and mourn the avocado softening in my kitchen. This, too, is practice, avocado being the smallest unit of grief. It’s rock and ripe and gone; rock and ripe and gone. Which should be a lesson. (Location 384)
- consider the way a horror like that might burrow into the stuff of a people, not just its genes, but its jokes, the shapes of its crosswalks, the lines of its art. (Location 458)
- just the flat time signature of sequence; terrible, indifferent sequence, which leads from the detonations, to carnage, to freedom(?), to carnage, to an airplane in the sky carrying a woman carrying a clumsy gathering of cells that will one day look backwards and see, in that line, only endings, endings, endings— (Location 466)
- Sliced from bone, my life hung like a jaw—faultless. And unforgivable. (Location 468)
- I’m a child of immigrants, of strategic importance, of imports from one immolation to another. (Location 476)
- If the land in me could speak to the land I live on, what would it say? Maybe I’m sorry. Or, where does it hurt? (Location 479)