2666

RBolano 2666 (adam.bredenberg@gmail.com) - Bookmark Loc. 210 | Added on Monday, May 14, 2012, 08:20 PM

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RBolano 2666 (adam.bredenberg@gmail.com) - Note Loc. 969 | Added on Monday, May 14, 2012, 08:36 PM

funny. compare to other injustices of civilized states in the text. the critics are awfully narrow arent they? i believe they are a subject of satire. perhaps affectionate

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RBolano 2666 (adam.bredenberg@gmail.com) - Highlight Loc. 1004-9 | Added on Monday, May 14, 2012, 08:40 PM

According to Morini, the Swabian was a grotesque double of Archimboldi, his twin, the negative image of a developed photograph that keeps looming larger, becoming more powerful, more oppressive, without ever losing its link to the negative (which undergoes the reverse process, gradually altered by time and fate), the two images somehow still the same: both young men in the years of terror and barbarism under Hitler, both World War II veterans, both writers, both citizens of a bankrupt nation, both poor bastards adrift at the moment when they meet and (in their grotesque fashion) recognize each other, Archimboldi as a struggling writer, the Swabian as "cultural promoter" in a town where culture was hardly a serious concern.

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RBolano 2666 (adam.bredenberg@gmail.com) - Highlight Loc. 1029-33 | Added on Monday, May 14, 2012, 08:47 PM

until Pelletier, sharper than Espinoza, understood that Norton's unthinking diatribe, that endless list of grievances, was more than anything a punishment inflicted on herself, perhaps for the shame of having fallen in love with such a cretin and married him. Pelletier, of course, was wrong. Around this time, Pelletier and Espinoza, worried about the current state of their mutual lover, had two long conversations on the phone.

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RBolano 2666 (adam.bredenberg@gmail.com) - Bookmark Loc. 1027 | Added on Monday, May 14, 2012, 08:48 PM

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RBolano 2666 (adam.bredenberg@gmail.com) - Highlight Loc. 1040 | Added on Monday, May 14, 2012, 08:51 PM

Liz Norton's name was spoken fifty times, nine of them in vain.

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RBolano 2666 (adam.bredenberg@gmail.com) - Highlight Loc. 1058-59 | Added on Monday, May 14, 2012, 08:53 PM

(since virtue, once recognized in a flash, has no shine and makes its home in a dark cave amid cave dwellers, some dangerous indeed),

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RBolano 2666 (adam.bredenberg@gmail.com) - Highlight Loc. 1065-68 | Added on Monday, May 14, 2012, 08:54 PM

Even before Norton first went to bed with Pelletier, Morini had felt it coming. Not because of the way Pelletier behaved around Norton but because of her own detachment, a generalized detachment, Baudelaire would have called it spleen, Nerval melancholy, which left Norton liable to embark on an intimate relationship with anyone who came along.

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RBolano 2666 (adam.bredenberg@gmail.com) - Highlight Loc. 1115 | Added on Monday, May 14, 2012, 08:58 PM

Nothing is ever behind us.

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RBolano 2666 (adam.bredenberg@gmail.com) - Highlight Loc. 1135-38 | Added on Monday, May 14, 2012, 09:01 PM

the disadvantage of being Spanish, that is, of belonging to a culture that tended to confuse eroticism with scatology and pornography with coprophagy, a confusion evident (because unaddressed) in Espinoza's mental library, for he had only just read the Marquis de Sade in order to check (and refute) an article by Pohl in which the latter drew connections from Justine and Philosophy in the Boudoir to one of Archimboldi's novels of the 1950s.

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RBolano 2666 (adam.bredenberg@gmail.com) - Highlight Loc. 1142-43 | Added on Monday, May 14, 2012, 09:02 PM

In figurative terms: Pelletier was more intimately acquainted than Espinoza with Mnemosyne, mountain goddess and mother of the nine muses.

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RBolano 2666 (adam.bredenberg@gmail.com) - Highlight Loc. 1151 | Added on Monday, May 14, 2012, 09:03 PM

which angers Zeus or whichever god it is no end,

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RBolano 2666 (adam.bredenberg@gmail.com) - Highlight Loc. 1192-93 | Added on Tuesday, May 15, 2012, 12:58 AM

She isn't bad, she's good. It isn't evil that I sensed, it's telepathy, he told himself to alter the course of a dream that in his heart of hearts he knew was fixed and inevitable.

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RBolano 2666 (adam.bredenberg@gmail.com) - Highlight Loc. 1221-23 | Added on Tuesday, May 15, 2012, 01:01 AM

Il libra di cucina di Juana Ines de la Cruz, by Angelo Morino, and that it was written in Italian, of course, although it was about a Mexican nun. About the nun's life and some of her recipes.

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RBolano 2666 (adam.bredenberg@gmail.com) - Highlight Loc. 1255-60 | Added on Tuesday, May 15, 2012, 01:04 AM

Are the new mugs more work? Not at all, I said, the work is the same, but the fucking mugs didn't do damage to me this way before. What do you mean? said Andy. That the bloody mugs didn't bother me before and now they're destroying me inside. So what the hell makes them different, aside from being more modern? asked Andy. That's it exactly, I answered, the mugs weren't so modern before, and even if they tried to hurt me, they couldn't, I didn't feel their sting, but now the fucking mugs are like samurais armed with those fucking samurai swords and they're driving me insane. Anyway, it was a long conversation," said the stranger. "The manager listened to me, but he didn't understand a single word I was saying. The next day I asked for the pay I was due and I left the company. I haven't worked since. What do you think of that?"

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RBolano 2666 (adam.bredenberg@gmail.com) - Highlight Loc. 1343-45 | Added on Tuesday, May 15, 2012, 01:08 AM

The pain, or the memory of pain, that here was literally sucked away by something nameless until only a void was left. The knowledge that this question was possible: pain that turns finally into emptiness. The knowledge that the same equation applied to everything, more or less.

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RBolano 2666 (adam.bredenberg@gmail.com) - Highlight Loc. 1348 | Added on Tuesday, May 15, 2012, 01:10 AM

He ushered in something that would later be known as the new decadence or English animalism.

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RBolano 2666 (adam.bredenberg@gmail.com) - Highlight Loc. 1350-51 | Added on Tuesday, May 15, 2012, 01:10 AM

As if, in other words, the painter were painting the neighborhood or the neighborhood were painting the painter, in savage, gloomy strokes.

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RBolano 2666 (adam.bredenberg@gmail.com) - Highlight Loc. 1353-55 | Added on Tuesday, May 15, 2012, 01:11 AM

This painting, viewed properly (although one could never be sure of viewing it properly), was an ellipsis of self-portraits, sometimes a spiral of self-portraits (depending on the angle from which it was seen), seven feet by three and a half feet, in the center of which hung the painter's mummified right hand.

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RBolano 2666 (adam.bredenberg@gmail.com) - Highlight Loc. 1370-71 | Added on Tuesday, May 15, 2012, 01:13 AM

Then came the boutiques, the black-box theaters, the cutting-edge restaurants, until it was one of the trendiest neighborhoods in London, nowhere near as cheap as it was reputed to be. RBolano 2666 (adam.bredenberg@gmail.com) - Note Loc. 1391 | Added on Saturday, June 09, 2012, 05:29 PM

important. johns

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RBolano 2666 (adam.bredenberg@gmail.com) - Highlight Loc. 1412-14 | Added on Saturday, June 09, 2012, 05:31 PM

ultraconcrete critical literature, a nonspeculative literature free of ideas, assertions, denials, doubts, free of any intent to serve as guide, neither pro nor con, just an eye seeking out the tangible elements, not judging them but simply displaying them coldly, archaeology of the facsimile, and, by the same token, of the photocopier.

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RBolano 2666 (adam.bredenberg@gmail.com) - Highlight Loc. 1427-28 | Added on Sunday, June 10, 2012, 01:04 AM

at that abyss like hour (with its ineffably nauseating scent) when momentous decisions are made,

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RBolano 2666 (adam.bredenberg@gmail.com) - Highlight Loc. 1444-45 | Added on Sunday, June 10, 2012, 01:08 AM

Like the machine celibataire.

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RBolano 2666 (adam.bredenberg@gmail.com) - Highlight Loc. 1447-51 | Added on Sunday, June 10, 2012, 01:09 AM

Thousands, hundreds of thousands of machines celibataires crossing an amniotic sea each day, on Alitalia, eating spaghetti al pomodoro and drinking Chianti or grappa, their eyes half closed, positive that the paradise of retirees isn't in Italy (or, therefore, anywhere in Europe), bachelors flying to the hectic airports of Africa or America, burial ground of elephants. The great cemeteries at light speed. I don't know why I'm thinking this, thought Pelletier. Spots on the wall and spots on the skin, thought Pelletier, looking at his hands. Fuck the Serb.

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RBolano 2666 (adam.bredenberg@gmail.com) - Highlight Loc. 1639-40 | Added on Sunday, June 10, 2012, 03:10 PM

the motion, or the series of motions, expressed not only sarcasm but cruelty and assurance too,

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RBolano 2666 (adam.bredenberg@gmail.com) - Highlight Loc. 1639-40 | Added on Sunday, June 10, 2012, 03:11 PM

the motion, or the series of motions, expressed not only sarcasm but cruelty and assurance too,

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RBolano 2666 (adam.bredenberg@gmail.com) - Highlight Loc. 1636-38 | Added on Sunday, June 10, 2012, 03:11 PM

In the other window, the man's silhouette, to the horror of its two gaping spectators, made a kind of hula-hooping motion, or what looked to Pelletier and Espinoza like a hula-hooping motion, first the hips, then the legs, the torso, even the neck!

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RBolano 2666 (adam.bredenberg@gmail.com) - Highlight Loc. 1677 | Added on Sunday, June 10, 2012, 03:17 PM

"In any case, a badulaque," said Espinoza.

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RBolano 2666 (adam.bredenberg@gmail.com) - Bookmark Loc. 1716 | Added on Sunday, June 10, 2012, 03:20 PM

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RBolano 2666 (adam.bredenberg@gmail.com) - Highlight Loc. 1716-21 | Added on Sunday, June 10, 2012, 03:20 PM

because they were as in love with her now, while Liz was keeping them in limbo, as they had been before, when they were her active lovers or colovers, as in love with her as they would be when she chose one of them or the other, or when she (in a possible future that was only slightly more bitter, a future of shared bitterness, of somehow mitigated bitterness), if such was her wish, chose neither of them. To which Norton replied with a question, no doubt partly rhetorical, but a plausible question all the same: what would happen if, while she took her time considering the options, one of them, Pelletier for example, suddenly fell in love with a student who was younger and prettier than she, and richer, too, and more charming?

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RBolano 2666 (adam.bredenberg@gmail.com) - Highlight Loc. 1758-63 | Added on Sunday, June 10, 2012, 03:35 PM

"Careful of what?" Pelletier managed to ask. "Of the Medusa," said Pritchard. "Beware of the Medusa." And then, before he continued down the stairs, he added: "When you've got her in your hands she'll blow you to pieces."

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RBolano 2666 (adam.bredenberg@gmail.com) - Note Loc. 1797 | Added on Sunday, June 10, 2012, 03:36 PM

critical reading of life

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RBolano 2666 (adam.bredenberg@gmail.com) - Highlight Loc. 1822 | Added on Sunday, June 10, 2012, 03:41 PM

Archimboldian neostructuralists from

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RBolano 2666 (adam.bredenberg@gmail.com) - Highlight Loc. 1839-48 | Added on Sunday, June 10, 2012, 03:44 PM

what you might call rationalists, not in the philosophical sense but in the pejorative literal sense, denoting people less interested in literature than in literary criticism, the one field, according to them—some of them, anyway—where revolution was still possible, and in some way they behaved not like youths but like nouveaux youths, in the sense that there are the rich and the nouveaux riches, all of them generally rational thinkers, let us repeat, although often incapable of telling their asses from their elbows, and although they noticed a there and a not-there, an absence-presence in the fleeting passage of Pelletier and Espinoza through Bologna, they were incapable of seeing what was really important: Pelletier's and Espinoza's absolute boredom regarding everything said there about Archimboldi or their negligent disregard for the gaze of others, as if the two were so much cannibal fodder, a disregard lost on the young conferencegoers, those eager and insatiable cannibals, their thirtysomething faces bloated with success, their expressions shifting from boredom to madness, their coded stutterings speaking only two words: love me, or maybe two words and a phrase: love me, let me love you, though obviously no one understood.)

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RBolano 2666 (adam.bredenberg@gmail.com) - Highlight Loc. 1856-57 | Added on Sunday, June 10, 2012, 05:08 PM

And Pelletier and Espinoza said, almost on the verge of tears, if not now, when?

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RBolano 2666 (adam.bredenberg@gmail.com) - Highlight Loc. 1864 | Added on Sunday, June 10, 2012, 05:10 PM

Not to mention the sweetness and the open, in some cases, to some people, delectable wounds.

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RBolano 2666 (adam.bredenberg@gmail.com) - Highlight Loc. 1875-81 | Added on Sunday, June 10, 2012, 05:12 PM

This seemed to set the driver off, for he burst out that as a Pakistani he might not know this Borges, and he might not have read the famous Dickens and Stevenson either, and he might not even know London and its streets as well as he should, that's why he'd said they were like a labyrinth, but he knew very well what decency and dignity were, and by what he had heard, the woman here present, in other words Norton, was lacking in decency and dignity, and in his country there was a word for what she was, the same word they had for it in London as it happened, and the word was bitch or slut or pig, and the gentlemen who were present, gentlemen who, to judge by their accents, weren't English, also had a name in his country and that name was pimp or hustler or whoremonger.

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RBolano 2666 (adam.bredenberg@gmail.com) - Highlight Loc. 1892 | Added on Sunday, June 10, 2012, 05:13 PM

Iberian kicks

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RBolano 2666 (adam.bredenberg@gmail.com) - Note Loc. 1899 | Added on Sunday, June 10, 2012, 05:14 PM

lol

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RBolano 2666 (adam.bredenberg@gmail.com) - Highlight Loc. 1901-2 | Added on Sunday, June 10, 2012, 05:14 PM

It was as if they'd finally had the menage a trois they'd so often dreamed of.

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RBolano 2666 (adam.bredenberg@gmail.com) - Note Loc. 1902 | Added on Sunday, June 10, 2012, 05:14 PM

de sade

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RBolano 2666 (adam.bredenberg@gmail.com) - Highlight Loc. 1903-4 | Added on Sunday, June 10, 2012, 05:15 PM

Pelletier felt as if he had come. Espinoza felt the same, to a slightly different degree. Norton, who was staring at them without seeing them in the dark, seemed to have experienced multiple orgasms.

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RBolano 2666 (adam.bredenberg@gmail.com) - Highlight Loc. 1942-49 | Added on Sunday, June 10, 2012, 05:19 PM

More calmly each time, they went over and over the concatenation of events that had driven them, finally, to give the cabbie a beating. Pritchard, no question about it. And the Gorgon, that innocent and mortal Medusa, set apart from her immortal sisters. And the veiled or not so veiled threat. And nerves. And the rudeness of that ignorant wretch. They wished they had a radio so they could hear the latest news. They talked about what they'd felt as they rained blows on the fallen body. A combination of sleepiness and sexual desire. Desire to fuck the poor bastard? Not at all! More as if they were fucking themselves. As if they were digging into themselves. With long nails and empty hands. Though if your fingernails are long enough your hands are never really empty. But in this dreamlike state, they dug and dug, rending fabric and ripping veins and puncturing vital organs. What were they looking for? They didn't know. Nor, at that stage, did they care.

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RBolano 2666 (adam.bredenberg@gmail.com) - Highlight Loc. 1999 | Added on Sunday, June 10, 2012, 05:22 PM

though never getting too far from shore.

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RBolano 2666 (adam.bredenberg@gmail.com) - Note Loc. 1999 | Added on Sunday, June 10, 2012, 07:33 PM

ocean motif

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RBolano 2666 (adam.bredenberg@gmail.com) - Note Loc. 2007 | Added on Sunday, June 10, 2012, 07:34 PM

like th critics

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RBolano 2666 (adam.bredenberg@gmail.com) - Highlight Loc. 2020-34 | Added on Sunday, June 10, 2012, 07:39 PM

One morning, near midday, he saw the bathers halt their activities and turn to watch the horizon, all at once, in the usual way. Nothing happened. But then, for the first time, the bathers turned around and began to leave the beach. Some headed along a dirt road between two hills. Others struck off cross-country, clinging to bushes and stones. A few moved toward the cliff and Pelletier couldn't see them but he knew they were beginning a slow climb. All that was left on the beach was a mass, a dark form projecting from a yellow pit. For an instant Pelletier wondered whether he should go down to the beach and bury the mass at the bottom of the hole, taking all necessary precautions. But just imagining how far he would have to walk to get to the beach made him sweat, and he kept sweating more and more, as if once you turned the spigot you couldn't turn it off. And then he spied a tremor in the sea, as if the water were sweating too, or as if it were about to boil. A barely perceptible simmer that spilled into ripples, building into waves that came to die on the beach. And then Pelletier felt dizzy and a hum of bees came from outside. And when the hum faded, a silence that was even worse fell over the house and everywhere around. And Pelletier shouted Norton's name and called to her, but no one answered his calls, as if the silence had swallowed up his cries for help. And then Pelletier began to weep and he watched as what was left of a statue emerged from the bottom of the metallic sea. A formless chunk of stone, gigantic, eroded by time and water, though a hand, a wrist, part of a forearm could still be made out with total clarity. And this statue came out of the sea and rose above the beach and it was horrific and at the same time very beautiful.

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RBolano 2666 (adam.bredenberg@gmail.com) - Note Loc. 2046 | Added on Sunday, June 10, 2012, 07:40 PM

very complex

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RBolano 2666 (adam.bredenberg@gmail.com) - Highlight Loc. 2053 | Added on Sunday, June 10, 2012, 07:41 PM

Archimboldi and shame in postwar German literature,

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RBolano 2666 (adam.bredenberg@gmail.com) - Highlight Loc. 2099-2101 | Added on Monday, June 11, 2012, 12:15 AM

Her disdain for culture, especially book culture, was schoolgirlish somehow, a combination of innocence and elegance so thoroughly immaculate, or so Pelletier believed, that Vanessa could make the most idiotic remarks without provoking the slightest annoyance.

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RBolano 2666 (adam.bredenberg@gmail.com) - Highlight Loc. 2106-16 | Added on Monday, June 11, 2012, 12:16 AM

"It's as if you were giving me a part of you," said Vanessa. This remark left Pelletier a bit confused, since in a way it was perfectly true, Archimboldi was by now a part of him, the author belonged to him insofar as Pelletier had, along with a few others, instituted a new reading of the German, a reading that would endure, a reading as ambitious as Archimboldi's writing, and this reading would keep pace with Archimboldi's writing for a long time, until the reading was exhausted or until Archimboldi's writing—the capacity of the Archimboldian oeuvre to spark emotion and revelations—was exhausted (but he didn't believe that would happen), though in another way it wasn't true, because sometimes, especially since he and Espinoza had given up their trips to London and stopped seeing Norton, Archimboldi's work, his novels and stories, that is, seemed completely foreign, a shapeless and mysterious verbal mass, something that appeared and disappeared capriciously, literally a pretext, a false door, a murderer's alias, a hotel bathtub full of amniotic liquid in which he, Jean-Claude Pelletier, would end up committing suicide for no reason, gratuitously, in bewilderment, just because.

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RBolano 2666 (adam.bredenberg@gmail.com) - Highlight Loc. 2130-31 | Added on Monday, June 11, 2012, 01:08 AM

A few leaves floated in the liquid, leaves that struck Pelletier as strange and suspicious.

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RBolano 2666 (adam.bredenberg@gmail.com) - Highlight Loc. 2134-42 | Added on Monday, June 11, 2012, 01:10 AM

Vanessa was perfectly suited to live in the Middle Ages, emotionally as well as physically for her, the concept of "modern life" was meaningless. She had much more faith in what she could see than in the media. She was mistrustful and brave, although paradoxically her bravery made her trust people— waiters, train conductors, friends in trouble, for example—who almost always let her down or betrayed her trust. These betrayals drove her wild and could lead her into unthinkably violent situations. She held grudges, too, and she boasted of saying things to people's faces without beating around the bush. She considered herself a free woman and had an answer for everything. Whatever she didn't understand didn't interest her. She never thought about the future, even her son's future, but only the present, a perpetual present. She was pretty but didn't consider herself pretty. More than half her friends were Moroccan immigrants, but she, who never got around to voting for Le Pen, saw immigration as a danger to France.

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RBolano 2666 (adam.bredenberg@gmail.com) - Highlight Loc. 2143-44 | Added on Monday, June 11, 2012, 01:10 AM

"Whores are there to be fucked," Espinoza said the night Pelletier talked to him about Vanessa, "not psychoanalyzed."

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RBolano 2666 (adam.bredenberg@gmail.com) - Note Loc. 2147 | Added on Monday, June 11, 2012, 01:10 AM

the body... decay and rearrangement. as in faustus.

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RBolano 2666 (adam.bredenberg@gmail.com) - Note Loc. 2152 | Added on Monday, June 11, 2012, 01:11 AM

oh bolano

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RBolano 2666 (adam.bredenberg@gmail.com) - Note Loc. 2159 | Added on Monday, June 11, 2012, 01:12 AM

again strange stuff with the body

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RBolano 2666 (adam.bredenberg@gmail.com) - Highlight Loc. 2163-67 | Added on Monday, June 11, 2012, 01:13 AM

Another night, in a dream, he thought he remembered what she'd said. He realized that he was dreaming, realized the dream was going to end badly, realized there was a good chance he would forget her words and maybe that was for the best, but he resolved to do everything he could to remember them before he woke up. In the middle of the dream, with the sky spinning in slow motion, he even tried to force himself awake, to turn on the light, to shout so that the sound of his own voice would return him to wakefulness, but the bulbs in the house seemed to have burned out and instead of a shout all he heard was a distant moan, as if of a boy or a girl or maybe an animal sheltering in a faraway room.

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RBolano 2666 (adam.bredenberg@gmail.com) - Note Loc. 2175 | Added on Monday, June 11, 2012, 01:16 AM

what is the relation between norton, the pakistani, and the whores?

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RBolano 2666 (adam.bredenberg@gmail.com) - Highlight Loc. 2176-77 | Added on Monday, June 11, 2012, 01:16 AM

as if the time or the whores had been a Mediterranean rest cruise.

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RBolano 2666 (adam.bredenberg@gmail.com) - Highlight Loc. 2183 | Added on Monday, June 11, 2012, 01:17 AM

The lives of other people grew visible, to a point.

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RBolano 2666 (adam.bredenberg@gmail.com) - Note Loc. 2189 | Added on Monday, June 11, 2012, 01:18 AM

a joke? and check out this bar

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RBolano 2666 (adam.bredenberg@gmail.com) - Note Loc. 2206 | Added on Monday, June 11, 2012, 09:58 PM

romantic... but with cynicism. evokes de sade in undermining of romantic convention. but romanticism isnt in power anymore... anyway. a good example of why telling can be important

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RBolano 2666 (adam.bredenberg@gmail.com) - Highlight Loc. 2227-32 | Added on Monday, June 11, 2012, 10:08 PM

the effect of its inertness. And what was this effect? An odd conviction. The certainty that the American continent, for example, had never been discovered, or in other words had never existed, and that this had in no way impeded the sustained economic growth or normal demographic growth or democratic advancement of the Helvetian republic. Just one of those strange and pointless ideas, said Pelletier, that people exchange on trips, especially if the trip is manifestly pointless, as this one was shaping up to be.

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RBolano 2666 (adam.bredenberg@gmail.com) - Highlight Loc. 2251-52 | Added on Monday, June 11, 2012, 11:23 PM

The first thing he noticed was Morini's wheelchair, which evinced pleasant surprise, as if clearly he hadn't been expecting anything quite so concrete.

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RBolano 2666 (adam.bredenberg@gmail.com) - Highlight Loc. 2277-80 | Added on Monday, June 11, 2012, 11:31 PM

Suffering is accumulated, said my friend, that's a fact, and the greater the suffering, the smaller the coincidence." "As if coincidence were a luxury?" asked Morini.

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RBolano 2666 (adam.bredenberg@gmail.com) - Highlight Loc. 2284-86 | Added on Monday, June 11, 2012, 11:34 PM

The shadows that crept imperceptibly across the inside of the cottage, creating angles where none had existed before, vague sketches that suddenly appeared on the walls, circles that faded like mute explosions.

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RBolano 2666 (adam.bredenberg@gmail.com) - Highlight Loc. 2329-31 | Added on Monday, June 11, 2012, 11:52 PM

I'll tell you why I did it," said Johns, and for the first time his body relaxed, abandoning its stiff, martial stance, and he bent toward Morini, saying something into his ear.

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RBolano 2666 (adam.bredenberg@gmail.com) - Note Loc. 2371 | Added on Monday, June 11, 2012, 11:54 PM

buffoonery

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RBolano 2666 (adam.bredenberg@gmail.com) - Note Loc. 2422 | Added on Monday, June 11, 2012, 11:58 PM

can they not tell it has to do with the artist's reason?

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RBolano 2666 (adam.bredenberg@gmail.com) - Highlight Loc. 2458-60 | Added on Tuesday, June 12, 2012, 12:13 AM

"They're interpretations," said Morini. "The French photographer is the best," he said. "The one I like least is the American. Too showy. He's too eager to discover Brunelleschi. To be Brunelleschi. The German isn't bad, but the French one is best, I'd say. You'll have to tell me what you think."

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RBolano 2666 (adam.bredenberg@gmail.com) - Highlight Loc. 2481-83 | Added on Tuesday, June 12, 2012, 12:16 AM

"Because he believed in investments, the flow of capital, one has to play the game to win, that kind of thing."

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RBolano 2666 (adam.bredenberg@gmail.com) - Note Loc. 2483 | Added on Tuesday, June 12, 2012, 12:16 AM

win, heh

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RBolano 2666 (adam.bredenberg@gmail.com) - Note Loc. 2483 | Added on Tuesday, June 12, 2012, 12:17 AM

so... what is sanity? oh the irony.

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RBolano 2666 (adam.bredenberg@gmail.com) - Note Loc. 2525 | Added on Tuesday, June 12, 2012, 12:20 AM

again madness. also what?

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RBolano 2666 (adam.bredenberg@gmail.com) - Note Loc. 2525 | Added on Tuesday, June 12, 2012, 12:21 AM

again madness. also what? perhaps spies are like detectives... if a job like that isnt adventure, what could be?

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RBolano 2666 (adam.bredenberg@gmail.com) - Highlight Loc. 2529-31 | Added on Tuesday, June 12, 2012, 12:33 AM

novel, attended a few lectures then introduced himself to Norton and Espinoza, who lost no time giving him the brush-off, and then to Pelletier, who supremely ignored him, since nothing distinguished Alatorre from the hordes of generally irritating young European university students who swarmed around the Archimboldian apostles.

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RBolano 2666 (adam.bredenberg@gmail.com) - Highlight Loc. 2540 | Added on Tuesday, June 12, 2012, 09:10 PM

Alfonso Reyes,

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RBolano 2666 (adam.bredenberg@gmail.com) - Highlight Loc. 2540-41 | Added on Tuesday, June 12, 2012, 09:10 PM

Morini unable to forget the book by Morino—that Morino who might almost have been Morini himself— on the Mexican nun's recipes.

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RBolano 2666 (adam.bredenberg@gmail.com) - Highlight Loc. 2546-48 | Added on Tuesday, June 12, 2012, 09:11 PM

One of these Mexico City friends, said Alatorre, and he said it innocently, with that slight hint of clumsy boasting typical of minor writers, had met Archimboldi just the other day.

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RBolano 2666 (adam.bredenberg@gmail.com) - Highlight Loc. 2563-67 | Added on Tuesday, June 12, 2012, 09:16 PM

Before the policemen left the room, El Cerdo asked, in German, whether they had stolen anything from him. The old man said no. They wanted money, but they hadn't stolen anything. "That's good," said El Cerdo in German. "That's progress."

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RBolano 2666 (adam.bredenberg@gmail.com) - Highlight Loc. 2589-91 | Added on Tuesday, June 12, 2012, 09:19 PM

as if the act of wearing a gun under his shirt or working high up in the government gave him an aura of sainthood that even the killers and drunks could sense from a distance. Pussies, thought El Cerdo. They smell me, they smell me and they're shitting in their pants.

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RBolano 2666 (adam.bredenberg@gmail.com) - Highlight Loc. 2596-97 | Added on Tuesday, June 12, 2012, 09:19 PM

on Piranesi and his imaginary prisons, which he saw extrapolated not exactly in Mexican prisons but in the imaginary and iconographic versions of some Mexican prisons.

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RBolano 2666 (adam.bredenberg@gmail.com) - Highlight Loc. 2596-99 | Added on Tuesday, June 12, 2012, 09:20 PM

writing an essay on Piranesi and his imaginary prisons, which he saw extrapolated not exactly in Mexican prisons but in the imaginary and iconographic versions of some Mexican prisons. One of the cons, no question about it, was the physical separation from power. Distancing oneself from power is never good, he'd discovered that early on, before he'd been granted real power, when he was head of the house that tried to publish Archimboldi.

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RBolano 2666 (adam.bredenberg@gmail.com) - Note Loc. 2599 | Added on Tuesday, June 12, 2012, 09:20 PM

compare to nazi lit

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RBolano 2666 (adam.bredenberg@gmail.com) - Note Loc. 2605 | Added on Tuesday, June 12, 2012, 09:23 PM

silly?

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RBolano 2666 (adam.bredenberg@gmail.com) - Highlight Loc. 2618-20 | Added on Tuesday, June 12, 2012, 09:24 PM

What the hell is a cultural charreada? wrote Espinoza on a piece of paper, the question seen by all but deciphered by Alatorre alone, for whom it was intended.

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RBolano 2666 (adam.bredenberg@gmail.com) - Highlight Loc. 2641-45 | Added on Wednesday, June 13, 2012, 02:46 PM

After they ate (the old man was hungry and ordered more tacos and more tequila, while El Cerdo buried his head like an ostrich in reflections on melancholy and power), they went for a walk around the Zocalo, visiting the plaza and the Aztec ruins springing like lilacs from wasteland, as El Cerdo put it, stone flowers among other stone flowers, a chaos that would surely lead nowhere, only to further chaos, said El Cerdo, as he and the German walked the streets around the Zocalo, toward the Plaza Santo Domingo, where, during the day, under the arches, scribes with their typewriters set up shop to type letters or legal claims.

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RBolano 2666 (adam.bredenberg@gmail.com) - Highlight Loc. 2664-69 | Added on Wednesday, June 13, 2012, 11:10 PM

"What are you going to do in Sonora?" asked El Cerdo. The old man hesitated a moment before answering, as if he'd forgotten how to talk. "I'm going to see what it's like," he said.

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RBolano 2666 (adam.bredenberg@gmail.com) - Highlight Loc. 2703-4 | Added on Wednesday, June 13, 2012, 11:34 PM

Sometimes, said Pelletier, it's as if Mrs. Bubis has forgotten that Archimboldi even exists. That's the way it always is in Mexico, said young Alatorre.

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RBolano 2666 (adam.bredenberg@gmail.com) - Highlight Loc. 2721-22 | Added on Wednesday, June 13, 2012, 11:36 PM

Pelletier would be satisfied if he could ask him whose skin the leather mask was made of in his homonymous novel.

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RBolano 2666 (adam.bredenberg@gmail.com) - Note Loc. 2739 | Added on Wednesday, June 13, 2012, 11:39 PM

cute

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RBolano 2666 (adam.bredenberg@gmail.com) - Highlight Loc. 2752-57 | Added on Thursday, June 14, 2012, 12:51 AM

Morini might have called Norton, but before his friends set off on their search for Archimboldi, he, in his own way, like Schwob in Samoa, had already begun a voyage, a voyage that would end not at the grave of a brave man but in a kind of resignation, what might be called a new experience, since this wasn't resignation in any ordinary sense of the word, or even patience or conformity, but rather a state of meekness, a refined and incomprehensible humility that made him cry for no reason and in which his own image, what Morini saw as Morini, gradually and helplessly dissolved, like a river that stops being a river or a tree that burns on the horizon, not knowing that it's burning.

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RBolano 2666 (adam.bredenberg@gmail.com) - Highlight Loc. 2773-76 | Added on Thursday, June 14, 2012, 12:53 AM

Through the open windows of her room came a distant buzzing, as if many miles away, in a neighborhood on the outskirts of the city, people were being evacuated. She thought it was the television and turned it off, but the noise persisted. She sat on the windowsill and looked out at the city. A sea of flickering lights stretched toward the south. If she leaned half her body out the window, the humming stopped. The air was cold and felt good.

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RBolano 2666 (adam.bredenberg@gmail.com) - Highlight Loc. 2788-90 | Added on Thursday, June 14, 2012, 12:59 AM

The taxi driver wasn't expecting this reaction and barely managed to step back, but he couldn't shake off the doorman. In the sky, presumably full of black clouds heavy with pollution, the lights of a plane appeared. Norton lifted her gaze, surprised, because then all the air began to buzz, as if millions of bees were surrounding the hotel.

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RBolano 2666 (adam.bredenberg@gmail.com) - Highlight Loc. 2788-91 | Added on Thursday, June 14, 2012, 12:59 AM

The taxi driver wasn't expecting this reaction and barely managed to step back, but he couldn't shake off the doorman. In the sky, presumably full of black clouds heavy with pollution, the lights of a plane appeared. Norton lifted her gaze, surprised, because then all the air began to buzz, as if millions of bees were surrounding the hotel. For an instant the idea of a suicide bomber or a plane accident passed through her mind.

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RBolano 2666 (adam.bredenberg@gmail.com) - Note Loc. 2793 | Added on Thursday, June 14, 2012, 01:00 AM

masochism? honor? both?

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RBolano 2666 (adam.bredenberg@gmail.com) - Highlight Loc. 2835-38 | Added on Thursday, June 14, 2012, 01:02 AM

As they left the airport, the three of them noticed how bright it was in Sonora. It was as if the light were buried in the Pacific Ocean, producing an enormous curvature of space. It made a person hungry to travel in that light, although also, and maybe more insistently, thought Norton, it made you want to bear your hunger until the end.

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RBolano 2666 (adam.bredenberg@gmail.com) - Highlight Loc. 2861-66 | Added on Thursday, June 14, 2012, 09:31 PM

Before they went back to the hotel they took a drive around the city. It made them laugh it seemed so chaotic. Until then they hadn't been in good spirits. They had looked at things and listened to the people who could help them, but only as part of a grander scheme. On the ride back to the hotel, they lost the sense of being in a hostile environment, although hostile wasn't the word, an environment whose language they refused to recognize, an environment that existed on some parallel plane where they couldn't make their presence felt, imprint themselves, unless they raised their voices, unless they argued, something they had no intention of doing.

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RBolano 2666 (adam.bredenberg@gmail.com) - Note Loc. 2866 | Added on Thursday, June 14, 2012, 09:31 PM

violence vs intellect... chaos vs order

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RBolano 2666 (adam.bredenberg@gmail.com) - Highlight Loc. 2873 | Added on Thursday, June 14, 2012, 09:33 PM

In a poetic turn of phrase, the flowery closing compared the desert to a petrified garden.

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RBolano 2666 (adam.bredenberg@gmail.com) - Highlight Loc. 2875-78 | Added on Thursday, June 14, 2012, 09:35 PM

According to what they could see out the windows of the bar, this was a decision shared by a group of American tourists who were getting deliberately drunk on the terrace, which was decorated with some surprising varieties of cactus, some almost ten feet tall. Every once in a while one of the tourists would get up from the table and go over to the railing draped in half-dead plants and glance out into the street.

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RBolano 2666 (adam.bredenberg@gmail.com) - Highlight Loc. 2886-90 | Added on Thursday, June 14, 2012, 09:36 PM

These people are crazy, said Espinoza and Pelletier. But Norton thought something strange was going on, on the street, on the terrace, in the hotel rooms, even in Mexico City with those unreal taxi drivers and doormen, unreal or at least logically ungraspable, and even in Europe something strange had been happening, something she didn't understand, at the Paris airport where the three of them had met, and maybe before, with Morini and his refusal to accompany them, with that slightly repulsive young man they had met in Toulouse, with Dieter Hellfeld and his sudden news about Archimboldi.

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RBolano 2666 (adam.bredenberg@gmail.com) - Note Loc. 2892 | Added on Thursday, June 14, 2012, 09:37 PM

is this a parallel to bolano?

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RBolano 2666 (adam.bredenberg@gmail.com) - Highlight Loc. 2906-9 | Added on Thursday, June 14, 2012, 09:39 PM

the unknown soldier in a doomed battle against barbarism, or, less melodramatically, as what he ultimately was, a melancholy literature professor put out to pasture in his own field, on the back of a capricious and childish beast that would have swallowed Heidegger in a single gulp if Heidegger had had the bad luck to be born on the Mexican-U.S. border.

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RBolano 2666 (adam.bredenberg@gmail.com) - Note Loc. 2912 | Added on Thursday, June 14, 2012, 09:40 PM

three dreams

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RBolano 2666 (adam.bredenberg@gmail.com) - Bookmark Loc. 2920 | Added on Thursday, June 14, 2012, 09:42 PM

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RBolano 2666 (adam.bredenberg@gmail.com) - Note Loc. 2922 | Added on Thursday, June 14, 2012, 09:42 PM

stendhal syndrome

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RBolano 2666 (adam.bredenberg@gmail.com) - Highlight Loc. 2935-38 | Added on Thursday, June 14, 2012, 10:10 PM

All at once Norton realized that the woman reflected in the mirror wasn't her. She felt afraid and curious, and she didn't move, watching the figure in the mirror even more carefully, if possible. Objectively, she said to herself, she looks just like me and there's no reason why I should think otherwise. She's me. But then she looked at the woman's neck: a vein, swollen as if to bursting, ran down from her ear and vanished at the shoulder blade. A vein that didn't seem real, that seemed drawn on.

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RBolano 2666 (adam.bredenberg@gmail.com) - Note Loc. 2949 | Added on Thursday, June 14, 2012, 10:14 PM

doppleganger

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RBolano 2666 (adam.bredenberg@gmail.com) - Highlight Loc. 2953-54 | Added on Thursday, June 14, 2012, 10:15 PM

rapidly taking notes about everything as it happened, as if her fate or her share of happiness on earth depended on it, and this went on until she woke up.

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RBolano 2666 (adam.bredenberg@gmail.com) - Highlight Loc. 2977-78 | Added on Thursday, June 14, 2012, 10:18 PM

"Actually," said Amalfitano, "now I see it as a natural movement, something that, in its way, helps to abolish fate, or what is generally thought of as fate."

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RBolano 2666 (adam.bredenberg@gmail.com) - Highlight Loc. 2979-83 | Added on Thursday, June 14, 2012, 10:18 PM

"But exile," said Pelletier, "is full of inconveniences, of skips and breaks that essentially keep recurring and interfere with anything you try to do that's important." "That's just what I mean by abolishing fate," said Amalfitano. "But again, I beg your pardon."

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RBolano 2666 (adam.bredenberg@gmail.com) - Highlight Loc. 2997-3000 | Added on Thursday, June 14, 2012, 10:21 PM

The story struck him as amusing, though he couldn't say exactly why, and he asked why they wanted to find him when it was clear Archimboldi didn't want to be seen. Because we're studying his work, said the critics. Because he's dying and it isn't right that the greatest German writer of the twentieth century should die without being offered the chance to speak to the readers who know his novels best. Because, they said, we want to convince him to come back to Europe.

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RBolano 2666 (adam.bredenberg@gmail.com) - Note Loc. 3008 | Added on Thursday, June 14, 2012, 10:22 PM

kafka. handke. bernhard. azuela.

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RBolano 2666 (adam.bredenberg@gmail.com) - Highlight Loc. 3009-15 | Added on Thursday, June 14, 2012, 10:23 PM

At the reception desk they were given the list of every hotel in the city. Amalfitano suggested that they call from the university, since it appeared that Guerra and the critics were on such excellent terms, or that Guerra felt a respect for them bordering on reverence and even fear, a fear, in turn, not without its element of vanity or coquetry, although cunning, to be fair crouched behind the coquetry and fear, since'even if Guerra's cooperation came down to the wishes of Rector Negrete, it was no secret to Amalfitano that Guerra planned to get something out of the visit of the distinguished European professors, for as we all know the future is a mystery and we never know when we may come to a bend in the road or what unexpected places our steps may lead us.

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RBolano 2666 (adam.bredenberg@gmail.com) - Note Loc. 3049 | Added on Thursday, June 14, 2012, 10:26 PM

silly critics. searching for truth. critic as detective.

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RBolano 2666 (adam.bredenberg@gmail.com) - Note Loc. 3068 | Added on Thursday, June 14, 2012, 10:27 PM

important passage. look up the history here.

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RBolano 2666 (adam.bredenberg@gmail.com) - Highlight Loc. 3077-78 | Added on Thursday, June 14, 2012, 10:29 PM

It adds layers of lime to a pit that may or may not exist, no one knows for sure.

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RBolano 2666 (adam.bredenberg@gmail.com) - Highlight Loc. 3084-85 | Added on Thursday, June 14, 2012, 10:30 PM

Valery

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RBolano 2666 (adam.bredenberg@gmail.com) - Highlight Loc. 3143 | Added on Friday, June 15, 2012, 08:22 PM

parquet

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RBolano 2666 (adam.bredenberg@gmail.com) - Highlight Loc. 3163-67 | Added on Friday, June 29, 2012, 07:17 PM

He didn't actually like the rug very much, but the girl was nice and he spent a long time talking to her. He asked her where she was from, because he had the sense that she'd traveled from somewhere far away with her rugs, but the girl said she was from right here, Santa Teresa, from a neighborhood west of the market. She also said she was in high school and that if things went well, she planned to study to become a nurse. She wasn't just pretty but intelligent, too, thought Espinoza, though possibly too thin and delicate for his taste.

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RBolano 2666 (adam.bredenberg@gmail.com) - Highlight Loc. 3185-94 | Added on Wednesday, July 18, 2012, 05:20 PM

Following this, Norton's questions were all about Archimboldi's physical appearance. Nearly six and a half feet tall; his hair gray and thick, though he had a bald spot in back; thin; obviously strong. "An old, old man," said Norton. "No, I wouldn't say that," said El Cerdo. "When he opened his suitcase I saw lots of medicine. His skin was covered in age spots. Sometimes he seemed to get very tired but then he would recover easily or pretend to." "What were his eyes like?" asked Norton. "Blue," said El Cerdo. "No, I already know they're blue, I've read all his books many times and they couldn't not be blue, I mean what were they like, what was your impression of them."

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RBolano 2666 (adam.bredenberg@gmail.com) - Highlight Loc. 3206-8 | Added on Wednesday, July 18, 2012, 05:20 PM

"He had the eyes of a blind man, I don't mean he couldn't see, but his eyes were just like the eyes of the blind, though I could be wrong about that."

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RBolano 2666 (adam.bredenberg@gmail.com) - Note Loc. 3221 | Added on Wednesday, July 18, 2012, 05:22 PM

progress and its relation to th mystery...

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RBolano 2666 (adam.bredenberg@gmail.com) - Highlight Loc. 3249-50 | Added on Wednesday, July 18, 2012, 06:10 PM

To the south they discovered rail lines and slum soccer fields surrounded by shacks, and they even watched a match, without getting out of the car, between a team of the terminally ill and a team of the starving to death,

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RBolano 2666 (adam.bredenberg@gmail.com) - Highlight Loc. 3270-73 | Added on Wednesday, July 18, 2012, 06:15 PM

For three days they lived as if submerged in an undersea world. They watched television, seeking out the strangest and most random news, they reread novels by Archimboldi that suddenly they didn't understand, they took long naps, they were the last to leave the terrace at night, they talked about their childhoods as they had never done before.

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RBolano 2666 (adam.bredenberg@gmail.com) - Highlight Loc. 3356 | Added on Wednesday, July 18, 2012, 08:03 PM

Rafael Dieste's Testamento geometrico,"

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RBolano 2666 (adam.bredenberg@gmail.com) - Highlight Loc. 3425-29 | Added on Wednesday, July 18, 2012, 10:03 PM

After that moment, reality for Pelletier and Espinoza seemed to tear like paper scenery, and when it was stripped away it revealed what was behind it: a smoking landscape, as if someone, an angel, maybe, was tending hundreds of barbecue pits for a crowd of invisible beings. They stopped getting up early, they stopped eating at the hotel, among the American tourists, and they moved to the center of the city, choosing dark bars for breakfast (beer and fiery chilaquiles) and bars with big windows for lunch, where the waiters wrote the specials in white ink on the glass. Dinner they had wherever they happened to be.

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RBolano 2666 (adam.bredenberg@gmail.com) - Highlight Loc. 3430-32 | Added on Wednesday, July 18, 2012, 10:03 PM

They accepted the rector's offer and gave lectures on contemporary French and Spanish literature, lectures that were more like massacres and that at least had the virtue of striking fear into their listeners, mostly young men, readers of Michon and Rolin or Marias and Vila-Matas.

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RBolano 2666 (adam.bredenberg@gmail.com) - Highlight Loc. 3480-86 | Added on Wednesday, July 18, 2012, 10:09 PM

Someone, one of the boys, talked about a murder epidemic. Someone said something about the copycat effect. Someone spoke the name Albert Kessler. At a certain moment Espinoza got up and went to the bathroom to vomit. As he was doing it he heard someone outside, someone who was probably washing his hands or his face or primping in front of the mirror, say to him: "That's all right, buddy, go ahead and puke." The voice soothed me, thought Espinoza, but that implies I was upset, and why should I have been upset?

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RBolano 2666 (adam.bredenberg@gmail.com) - Highlight Loc. 3523-24 | Added on Wednesday, July 18, 2012, 10:14 PM

He thought about the young Archimboldi readers from the night before, and he wanted, vaguely, to be like them, to exchange his life for one of theirs. This wish was, he told himself, a form of lassitude.

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RBolano 2666 (adam.bredenberg@gmail.com) - Highlight Loc. 3578-87 | Added on Wednesday, July 18, 2012, 10:18 PM

Rather than two letters, it was really a single one albeit with variations, brusque personalized twists that opened onto the same abyss. Santa Teresa, that horrible city, said Norton, had made her think. Think in the strict sense, for the first time in years. In other words: she had begun to think about practical, real, tangible things, and she had also begun to remember. She had thought about her family, her friends, and her job, and nearly simultaneously she had remembered family scenes or work scenes, scenes in which her friends raised their glasses and made toasts, maybe to her, maybe to someone she'd forgotten. Mexico is unbelievable (here she digressed, but only in Espinoza's letter, as if Pelletier wouldn't understand or as if she knew beforehand that they would compare letters), a place where one of the big fish in the cultural establishment, someone presumably refined, a writer who has reached the highest levels of government, is called El Cerdo, and no one even questions it, she said, and she saw a connection between this, the nickname or the cruelty of the nickname or the resignation to the nickname, and the criminal acts that had been occurring for some time in Santa Teresa.

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RBolano 2666 (adam.bredenberg@gmail.com) - Highlight Loc. 3615-19 | Added on Wednesday, July 18, 2012, 10:20 PM

He said instead that it was surprising, or that it would never cease to surprise him, the way Archimboldi depicted pain and shame. “Delicately," said Espinoza. “That's right," said Pelletier. "Delicately."

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RBolano 2666 (adam.bredenberg@gmail.com) - Highlight Loc. 3682-91 | Added on Wednesday, July 18, 2012, 10:24 PM

Everything's over, I thought. I feel rested, I'm home, I have lots to do. When I sat up in bed, though, all I did was start to cry like a fool, for no apparent reason. All day I was like that. At moments I wished I hadn't left Santa Teresa, that I'd stayed there with you until the end. More than once I felt the urge to rush to the airport and catch the first plane to Mexico. These urges were followed by other, more destructive ones: to set fire to my apartment, slit my wrists, never return to the university, and live on the streets forever after. But in England at least, women who live on the streets are often subjected to terrible humiliations, I just read an article about it in some magazine or other. In England these street women are gang-raped, beaten, and it isn't unusual for them to be found dead outside hospitals. The people who do these things to them aren't, as I might have thought at eighteen, the police or gangs of neo-Nazi thugs, but other street people, which makes it seem somehow even worse.

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RBolano 2666 (adam.bredenberg@gmail.com) - Note Loc. 3691 | Added on Wednesday, July 18, 2012, 10:24 PM

in santa teresa, mexicans to mexicans

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RBolano 2666 (adam.bredenberg@gmail.com) - Note Loc. 3702 | Added on Wednesday, July 18, 2012, 10:30 PM

is the espinoza-rebeca imperialism like these rapes?

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RBolano 2666 (adam.bredenberg@gmail.com) - Highlight Loc. 3718-23 | Added on Wednesday, July 18, 2012, 10:34 PM

In his opinion, the Chilean professor's nerves were shot. Pelletier had mvited him to take a dip in the pool. Since he didn't have bathing trunks had picked up a pair for him at the reception desk. Everything seemed to be going fine. But when Amalfitano got in the pool, he froze, as if he'd suddenly seen the devil. Then he sank. Before he went under, Pelletier remembered, he covered his mouth with both hands. In any case, he made no attempt to swim. Fortunately, Pelletier was there and it was easy to dive down and bring him back up to the surface. Then they each had a whiskey, and Amalfitano explained that it had been a long time since he’d swam.

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RBolano 2666 (adam.bredenberg@gmail.com) - Note Loc. 3723 | Added on Wednesday, July 18, 2012, 10:35 PM

water again... drowning. the ocean.

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RBolano 2666 (adam.bredenberg@gmail.com) - Note Loc. 3760 | Added on Wednesday, July 18, 2012, 10:38 PM

fantasy?

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RBolano 2666 (adam.bredenberg@gmail.com) - Note Loc. 3831 | Added on Wednesday, July 18, 2012, 10:53 PM

by wary of this in your own work

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RBolano 2666 (adam.bredenberg@gmail.com) - Highlight Loc. 3865-67 | Added on Wednesday, July 18, 2012, 10:55 PM

When he got back to the hotel he left the rugs on the bed he didn't sleep in, then he sat on his bed and for a fraction of a second the shadows retreated and he had a fleeting glimpse of reality. He telt dizzy and he closed his eyes. Without knowing it he fell asleep.

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RBolano 2666 (adam.bredenberg@gmail.com) - Highlight Loc. 3869-71 | Added on Wednesday, July 18, 2012, 10:57 PM

That night he brought Rebeca to the hotel and after they had showered together he dressed her in a thong and garters and black tights and a black teddy and black spike-heeled shoes and fucked her until she was no more than a tremor in his arms.

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RBolano 2666 (adam.bredenberg@gmail.com) - Note Loc. 3874 | Added on Wednesday, July 18, 2012, 10:58 PM

this all seems to be in keeping with my reading where the critics are both the butts of a joke and agents of imperial power... fantasy on espinoza's part

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RBolano 2666 (adam.bredenberg@gmail.com) - Highlight Loc. 3894-3903 | Added on Wednesday, July 18, 2012, 10:59 PM

Then Pelletier opened his eyes and asked what was going on. "We thought you were dead," said Espinoza. "Mo " said Pelletier, "I was dreaming I was on vacation in the Greek islands and I rented a boat and I met a boy who spent the whole day diving. "It was a beautiful dream, he said. "It sure does sound relaxing," said the clerk. "The strangest part of the dream," said Pelletier, "was that the water was alive."

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RBolano 2666 (adam.bredenberg@gmail.com) - Note Loc. 3903 | Added on Wednesday, July 18, 2012, 10:59 PM

life. death. ocean.

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RBolano 2666 (adam.bredenberg@gmail.com) - Highlight Loc. 3929-31 | Added on Wednesday, July 18, 2012, 11:01 PM

"I think so," he said. "My chair was watching you while I was ignoring you, yes? As if the chair and I were a single person or a single being. And the chair was bad precisely because it was watching you, and I was bad too, because I had lied to you and I wasn't looking at you."

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RBolano 2666 (adam.bredenberg@gmail.com) - Highlight Loc. 4011-14 | Added on Wednesday, July 18, 2012, 11:06 PM

"That he's here," said Pelletier, and he motioned toward the sauna, the hotel, the court, the fence, the dry brush that could be glimpsed in the distance, on the unlit hotel grounds. The hair rose on the back of Espinoza's neck. The cement box where the sauna was looked like a bunker holding a corpse.

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RBolano 2666 (adam.bredenberg@gmail.com) - Note Loc. 4115 | Added on Wednesday, July 18, 2012, 11:22 PM

sexuality

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RBolano 2666 (adam.bredenberg@gmail.com) - Highlight Loc. 4129-32 | Added on Thursday, July 19, 2012, 09:24 PM

The guests were waiting for the poet to make his entrance. They were waiting for him to pick a fight. Or to defecate in the middle of the living room, on a Turkish carpet like the threadbare carpet from the Thousand and One Nights, a battered carpet that sometimes functioned as a mirror, reflecting all of us from below. I mean: it turned into a mirror at the command of our spasms. Neurochemical spasms. When the poet showed up, though, nothing happened.

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RBolano 2666 (adam.bredenberg@gmail.com) - Highlight Loc. 4164-66 | Added on Thursday, July 19, 2012, 09:47 PM

These things can't have happened to you, I said, you're too young to have suffered this much. He made a gesture as if to say that he didn't care whether I believed him or not. What matters is that it's well written, he said. No, I told him, you know that isn't what matters. Wrong, wrong, wrong, I said, and finally he had to cede the point.

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RBolano 2666 (adam.bredenberg@gmail.com) - Note Loc. 4253 | Added on Thursday, July 19, 2012, 10:15 PM

here is a blatant omission of the name... why?

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RBolano 2666 (adam.bredenberg@gmail.com) - Highlight Loc. 4281-83 | Added on Thursday, July 19, 2012, 10:27 PM

Before Lola got out of the car, at the entrance to the asylum, Larrazabal snuck a five-thousand-peseta note into her pocket. Lola noticed but didn't say anything and then she was left alone under the trees, in front of the iron gate to the madhouse, home to the poet who was supremely ignoring her.

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RBolano 2666 (adam.bredenberg@gmail.com) - Note Loc. 4283 | Added on Thursday, July 19, 2012, 10:27 PM

relates to rug seller... this is also a kind of horror.

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RBolano 2666 (adam.bredenberg@gmail.com) - Highlight Loc. 4344-45 | Added on Friday, July 20, 2012, 12:52 AM

Christ, you're lucky, said Larrazabal, my whole life I've wanted to live in a cemetery, and look at you, the minute you get here, you move right in.

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RBolano 2666 (adam.bredenberg@gmail.com) - Highlight Loc. 4398-4400 | Added on Friday, July 20, 2012, 12:59 AM

She didn't ask about Rosa. For her it's as if Rosa doesn't exist, thought Amalfitano, but then it struck him that this might not be the case at all. He cried for a while with the letter in his hands.

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RBolano 2666 (adam.bredenberg@gmail.com) - Highlight Loc. 4416-18 | Added on Friday, July 20, 2012, 01:01 AM

Sometimes she felt like Electra, daughter of Agamemnon and Clytemnestra, wandering in disguise through Mycenae, the killer mingling with the plebes, the masses, the killer whose mind no one understands, not even the FBI special agents or the charitable people who dropped coins in her hands.

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RBolano 2666 (adam.bredenberg@gmail.com) - Note Loc. 4431 | Added on Friday, July 20, 2012, 01:03 AM

this too might be fantasy, though in what way it's difficult to say

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RBolano 2666 (adam.bredenberg@gmail.com) - Highlight Loc. 4437-39 | Added on Friday, July 20, 2012, 01:04 AM

Amalfitano offered to take her to the hospital the next day, but Lola refused, saying French doctors had always been better than Spanish doctors, and she took some papers out of her bag that stated in no uncertain terms and in French that she had AIDS.

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RBolano 2666 (adam.bredenberg@gmail.com) - Note Loc. 4500 | Added on Friday, July 20, 2012, 01:18 AM

memory. impotency... the impossible.

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RBolano 2666 (adam.bredenberg@gmail.com) - Note Loc. 4524 | Added on Friday, July 20, 2012, 04:00 PM

memory again

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RBolano 2666 (adam.bredenberg@gmail.com) - Highlight Loc. 4534-36 | Added on Friday, July 20, 2012, 04:03 PM

He believed (or liked to think he believed) that when a person was in Barcelona, the people living and present in Buenos Aires and Mexico City didn't exist. The time difference only masked their nonexistence.

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RBolano 2666 (adam.bredenberg@gmail.com) - Highlight Loc. 4539-44 | Added on Friday, July 20, 2012, 04:04 PM

Anyway, these ideas or feelings or ramblings had their satisfactions. They turned the pain of others into memories of one's own. They turned pain, which is natural, enduring, and eternally triumphant, into personal memory, which is human, brief, and eternally elusive. They turned a brutal story of injustice and abuse, an incoherent howl with no beginning or end, into a neatly structured story in which suicide was always held out as a possibility. They turned flight into freedom, even if freedom meant no more than the perpetuation of flight. They turned chaos into order, even if it was at the cost of what is commonly known as sanity.

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RBolano 2666 (adam.bredenberg@gmail.com) - Highlight Loc. 4550-52 | Added on Friday, July 20, 2012, 04:14 PM

And it was then, just then, as if it were the pistol shot inaugurating a series of events that would build upon each other with sometimes happy and sometimes disastrous consequences,

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RBolano 2666 (adam.bredenberg@gmail.com) - Highlight Loc. 4580-81 | Added on Friday, July 20, 2012, 04:18 PM

I take it back: all Duchamp did while he was in Buenos Aires was play chess.

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RBolano 2666 (adam.bredenberg@gmail.com) - Note Loc. 4596 | Added on Friday, July 20, 2012, 08:37 PM

find these drawings

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RBolano 2666 (adam.bredenberg@gmail.com) - Highlight Loc. 4613 | Added on Friday, July 20, 2012, 08:38 PM

Socrates made sense, there was a fleeting logic there,

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RBolano 2666 (adam.bredenberg@gmail.com) - Note Loc. 4616 | Added on Friday, July 20, 2012, 08:39 PM

know these people, but dont look too hard for meaning

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RBolano 2666 (adam.bredenberg@gmail.com) - Highlight Loc. 4616-17 | Added on Friday, July 20, 2012, 08:39 PM

All the names, it could be said, were of philosophers who concerned themselves with ontological questions.

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RBolano 2666 (adam.bredenberg@gmail.com) - Note Loc. 4623 | Added on Friday, July 20, 2012, 08:44 PM

note how often they are called "the crimes." does this euphamism attempt to limit or conceal their horrific power? does it define them in terms of transgression and not violence and violation?

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RBolano 2666 (adam.bredenberg@gmail.com) - Highlight Loc. 4652-53 | Added on Friday, July 20, 2012, 08:48 PM

There had to be something funny about it, but whatever it might be, he couldn't put his finger on it, no matter how he tried.

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RBolano 2666 (adam.bredenberg@gmail.com) - Note Loc. 4653 | Added on Friday, July 20, 2012, 08:52 PM

amalfitano is tragic... the marginalized critic. becauehe is mxican? perhaps the wisest of all four, but suffers from that disease of awareness that the first world critics seem immune to. they do not hallucinate like he does. they do not have the geometric testiment and the meaningless diagrams. they only dream while asleep.

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RBolano 2666 (adam.bredenberg@gmail.com) - Note Loc. 4663 | Added on Friday, July 20, 2012, 08:54 PM

wut.

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RBolano 2666 (adam.bredenberg@gmail.com) - Highlight Loc. 4718-19 | Added on Friday, July 20, 2012, 09:03 PM

Italians were brave individually. In large numbers, he admitted, they were hopeless. And this, he explained, was precisely what gave a person hope.

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RBolano 2666 (adam.bredenberg@gmail.com) - Highlight Loc. 4737-38 | Added on Saturday, July 21, 2012, 07:06 PM

Amalfitano listened to her talk and all of a sudden laughed.

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RBolano 2666 (adam.bredenberg@gmail.com) - Highlight Loc. 4765-69 | Added on Sunday, July 22, 2012, 09:03 PM

People have a thirst to learn about other people's lives, the lives of their famous contemporaries, the ones who made it big or came close, and they also have a thirst to know what the old chincuales did, maybe even learn something, although they aren't prepared to jump through the same hoops themselves. Amalfitano asked politely what chincuales meant, since he had never heard the word. Really? asked Augusto Guerra. I swear, said Amalfitano. Then the dean asked Professor Perez: Silvita, do you know what chincuales means? Professor Perez took Amalfitano's arm, as if they were lovers, and confessed that really she didn't have the slightest idea, although the word rang a bell.

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RBolano 2666 (adam.bredenberg@gmail.com) - Note Loc. 4794 | Added on Sunday, July 22, 2012, 09:09 PM

are they cracks in amal. psyche because he is not chilean? or is it a quality of chile that their words become cracks in the psyche?

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RBolano 2666 (adam.bredenberg@gmail.com) - Highlight Loc. 4794-95 | Added on Sunday, July 22, 2012, 09:13 PM

That hockey rink the size of Atacama where the players never saw a member of the opposing team and only every so often saw a member of their own.

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RBolano 2666 (adam.bredenberg@gmail.com) - Highlight Loc. 4870-71 | Added on Monday, July 23, 2012, 05:28 PM

And Amalfitano felt tired and overwhelmed by the landscape, a landscape that seemed best suited to the young or the old, imbecilic or insensitive or evil and old who meant to impose impossible tasks on themselves and others until they breathed their last.

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RBolano 2666 (adam.bredenberg@gmail.com) - Note Loc. 4881 | Added on Monday, July 23, 2012, 05:29 PM

memory

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RBolano 2666 (adam.bredenberg@gmail.com) - Highlight Loc. 4894-95 | Added on Monday, July 23, 2012, 05:31 PM

So he drew a face and erased it and then immersed himself in the memory of the obliterated face. He remembered (but fleetingly, as one members a lightning bolt) Ramon Lull and his fantastic machine.

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RBolano 2666 (adam.bredenberg@gmail.com) - Highlight Loc. 4935-38 | Added on Monday, July 23, 2012, 05:35 PM

There is no friendship, said the voice, there is no love, there is no epic, there is no lyric poetry that isn't the gurgle or chuckle of egoists, the murmur of cheats, the babble of traitors, the burble of social climbers, the warble of faggots. What is it you have against homosexuals? whispered Amalfitano. Nothing, said the voice. I'm speaking figuratively, said the voice.

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RBolano 2666 (adam.bredenberg@gmail.com) - Highlight Loc. 4942-51 | Added on Monday, July 23, 2012, 05:37 PM

I'm talking from a studio where the chaos is just a mask or the faint stink of anesthesia. I'm talking from a studio with the lights out, where the sinew of the will detaches itself from the rest of the body the way the snake tongue detaches itself from the body and slithers away, self-mutilated, amid the rubbish. I'm talking from the perspective of the simple things in life. You teach philosophy? said the voice. You teach Wittgenstein? said the voice. And have you asked yourself whether your hand is a hand? said the voice. I've asked myself, said Amalfitano. But now you have more important things to ask yourself, am I right? said the voice. No, said Amalfitano. For example, why not go to a nursery and buy seeds and plants and maybe even a little tree to plant in the middle of your backyard? said the voice. Yes, said Amalfitano. I've thought about my possible and conceivable yard and the plants and tools I need to buy. And you've also thought about your daughter, said the voice, and about the murders committed daily in this city, and about Baudelaire's faggoty (I'm sorry) clouds, but you haven't thought seriously about whether your hand is really a hand. That isn't true, said Amalfitano, I have thought about it, I have. If you had thought about it, said the voice, you'd be dancing to the tune of a different piper. And Amalfitano was silent and he felt that the silence was a kind of eugenics.

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RBolano 2666 (adam.bredenberg@gmail.com) - Highlight Loc. 5011-15 | Added on Tuesday, July 24, 2012, 01:41 AM

On one of the posters he read: No to impunity. On another: End the corruption. A group of policemen were watching the women from under the adobe arches of the colonial building. They weren't riot police but plain Santa Teresa uniformed policemen. As he walked past he heard someone call his name. When he turned he saw Professor Perez and his daughter on the sidewalk across the street. He offered to buy them a soda. At the coffee shop they explained that the protest was to demand transparency in the investigation of the disappearances and killings of women.

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RBolano 2666 (adam.bredenberg@gmail.com) - Highlight Loc. 5031-33 | Added on Tuesday, July 24, 2012, 09:21 PM

You have nothing to fear from me, Professor, he said, and Amalfitano couldn't help but be surprised by the remark. The young Guerra stopped in front of him. He was smiling just as he had been the first time they met. A confident, mocking smile, like the smile of a cocksure sniper.

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RBolano 2666 (adam.bredenberg@gmail.com) - Note Loc. 5033 | Added on Tuesday, July 24, 2012, 09:22 PM

is this the profile of one of the sadists? is he homosexual?

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RBolano 2666 (adam.bredenberg@gmail.com) - Highlight Loc. 5054 | Added on Tuesday, July 24, 2012, 09:24 PM

They don't make it anymore, said Marco Antonio, like so much in this fucking country.

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RBolano 2666 (adam.bredenberg@gmail.com) - Note Loc. 5059 | Added on Tuesday, July 24, 2012, 09:26 PM

a few what indeed?

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RBolano 2666 (adam.bredenberg@gmail.com) - Note Loc. 5092 | Added on Tuesday, July 24, 2012, 09:38 PM

history of nation potentially rooted in rape... as usual nothing is certain.

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RBolano 2666 (adam.bredenberg@gmail.com) - Note Loc. 5065 | Added on Tuesday, July 24, 2012, 09:39 PM

imperial arrogance

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RBolano 2666 (adam.bredenberg@gmail.com) - Note Loc. 5065 | Added on Tuesday, July 24, 2012, 09:39 PM

imperial arrogance? borgouise naivite?

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RBolano 2666 (adam.bredenberg@gmail.com) - Highlight Loc. 5113-18 | Added on Tuesday, July 24, 2012, 09:43 PM

The mention of Villa Alegre prompted Kilapan to add the oddest note. It read: "In Villa Alegre, formerly Warakulen, lie the remains of Abate Juan Ignacio Molina, brought from Italy to his native city. He was a professor at the University of Bologna, where his statue presides over the entrance to the Pantheon of the Distinguished Sons of Italy, between the statues of Copernicus and Galileo. According to Molina, there is an unquestionable kinship between Greeks and Araucanians."

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RBolano 2666 (adam.bredenberg@gmail.com) - Note Loc. 5132 | Added on Tuesday, July 24, 2012, 09:47 PM

compare mag's question to his answer. the fomer seems hopeful or peaceful - in death all things are equal - the latter seems cynial and perhaps the root of an antisocial philosophy.

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RBolano 2666 (adam.bredenberg@gmail.com) - Note Loc. 5132 | Added on Tuesday, July 24, 2012, 09:50 PM

compare mag's question to his answer. the fomer seems hopeful or peaceful or beautiful - in death all things are equal, horror and beauty are one with all else- the latter seems cynial and perhaps the root of an antisocial philosophy.

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RBolano 2666 (adam.bredenberg@gmail.com) - Highlight Loc. 5142 | Added on Tuesday, July 24, 2012, 09:50 PM

petit comité.

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RBolano 2666 (adam.bredenberg@gmail.com) - Highlight Loc. 5153-55 | Added on Tuesday, July 24, 2012, 09:52 PM

But he was wrong. Young Marco Antonio Guerra had noticed. And he had also noticed that Amalfitano had noticed. Life is worthless, he said into Amalfitano's ear when they went out into the garden.

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RBolano 2666 (adam.bredenberg@gmail.com) - Note Loc. 5162 | Added on Wednesday, July 25, 2012, 01:00 AM

read this scene carefully. doesn't something seem horribly wrong?

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RBolano 2666 (adam.bredenberg@gmail.com) - Highlight Loc. 5183-85 | Added on Wednesday, July 25, 2012, 01:03 AM

Primitive man was ignorant of language; he communicated by brainwaves, as animals and plants do. When he resorted to sounds and gestures and hand signals to communicate, he began to lose the gift of telepathy, and this loss was accelerated when he went to live in cities, distancing himself from nature.

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RBolano 2666 (adam.bredenberg@gmail.com) - Highlight Loc. 5188-89 | Added on Wednesday, July 25, 2012, 01:09 AM

By means of telepathy they kept in permanent contact with the Chilean migrants who first settled in the north of India, where they were called Aryans, then headed to the fields of ancient Germania

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RBolano 2666 (adam.bredenberg@gmail.com) - Highlight Loc. 5217-18 | Added on Wednesday, July 25, 2012, 01:31 AM

One could see, for example, the date that Kilapan's book was published, 1978, in other words during the military dictatorship, and deduce the atmosphere of triumph, loneliness, and fear in which it was published.

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RBolano 2666 (adam.bredenberg@gmail.com) - Highlight Loc. 5227-29 | Added on Wednesday, July 25, 2012, 01:32 AM

Ah, ah, ah, ah, pants Amalfitano, struggling for breath as if he's having a sudden asthma attack. Ah, Chile.

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RBolano 2666 (adam.bredenberg@gmail.com) - Highlight Loc. 5259-61 | Added on Wednesday, July 25, 2012, 01:37 AM

We pretend there's nothing wrong, but there is. What's wrong? We're being fucking stifled. You let off steam your own way. I beat the shit out of people or let them beat the shit out of me. But the fights I get into aren't just any fights, they're fucking apocalyptic mayhem.

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RBolano 2666 (adam.bredenberg@gmail.com) - Note Loc. 5257 | Added on Wednesday, July 25, 2012, 01:39 AM

amalfitano... telepath? or is this a product of a heuristic? was this shred of evidence exactly what he was searching for?

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RBolano 2666 (adam.bredenberg@gmail.com) - Highlight Loc. 5274-76 | Added on Wednesday, July 25, 2012, 01:40 AM

I used to read everything, Professor, I read all the time. Now all I read is poetry. Poetry is the one thing that isn't contaminated, the one thing that isn't part of the game. I don't know if you follow me, Professor. Only poetry—and let me be clear, only some of it—is good for you, only poetry isn't shit.

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RBolano 2666 (adam.bredenberg@gmail.com) - Highlight Loc. 5277 | Added on Wednesday, July 25, 2012, 01:41 AM

Georg Trakl

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RBolano 2666 (adam.bredenberg@gmail.com) - Highlight Loc. 5289-92 | Added on Wednesday, July 25, 2012, 01:42 AM

What a sad paradox, thought Amalfitano. Now even bookish pharmacists are afraid to take on the great, imperfect, torrential works, books that blaze paths into the unknown. They choose the perfect exercises of the great masters. Or what amounts to the same thing: they want to watch the great masters spar, but they have no interest in real combat, when the great masters struggle against that something, that something that terrifies us all, that something that cows us and spurs us on, amid blood and mortal wounds and stench.

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RBolano 2666 (adam.bredenberg@gmail.com) - Highlight Loc. 5303-4 | Added on Wednesday, July 25, 2012, 09:05 PM

Boris Yeltsin. This is the last Communist philosopher? What kind of lunatic am I if this is the kind of nonsense I dream? And yet the dream was at peace with Amalfitano's soul.

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RBolano 2666 (adam.bredenberg@gmail.com) - Highlight Loc. 5308-9 | Added on Wednesday, July 25, 2012, 09:06 PM

This is the equation: supply + demand + magic. And what is magic? Magic is epic and it's also sex and Dionysian mists and play.

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RBolano 2666 (adam.bredenberg@gmail.com) - Highlight Loc. 5315-16 | Added on Wednesday, July 25, 2012, 09:08 PM

And then he disappeared, swallowed up by the crater streaked with red or by the latrine streaked with red, and Amalfitano was left alone and he didn't dare look down the hole, which meant he had no choice but to wake.

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RBolano 2666 (adam.bredenberg@gmail.com) - Highlight Loc. 5393-97 | Added on Wednesday, July 25, 2012, 09:15 PM

Quincy said his mother belonged to the Christian Church of Fallen Angels. Or no, maybe it had another name. He couldn't remember. You're right, said Mr. Lawrence, it does have a different name, it's the Christian Church of Angels Redeemed. That's the one, said Quincy.

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RBolano 2666 (adam.bredenberg@gmail.com) - Highlight Loc. 5405-9 | Added on Wednesday, July 25, 2012, 11:06 PM

Most terrible of all, though, was that as he was dreaming he knew it didn't necessarily have to be that way, he noticed the resemblance to the movie, he thought he understood that both were based on the same premise, and that if the movie he'd seen was the real movie, then the other one, the one he had dreamed, might be a reasoned response, a reasoned critique, and not necessarily a nightmare. All criticism is ultimately a nightmare, he thought as he washed his face in the apartment where his mother's body no longer was.

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RBolano 2666 (adam.bredenberg@gmail.com) - Highlight Loc. 5483-92 | Added on Wednesday, July 25, 2012, 11:23 PM

He sat through only one scene. A white man is arrested by three black cops. Instead of taking him to the police station, the cops take him to an airfield. There, the man who's been arrested sees the chief of police, who's also black. The man is no fool and he figures out they're working for the DEA. Through unspoken assurances and eloquent silences, they reach a kind of deal. As they talk, the man looks out a window. He sees the landing strip and a Cessna taxiing toward one end of it. They unload a shipment of cocaine. The cop opening the crates and unpacking the bricks is black. Next to him, another black cop is tossing the bricks into a fire barrel, like the kind the homeless use to keep warm on winter nights. But these cops aren't bums. They're DEA agents, neatly dressed, government employees. The man turns away from the window and points out to the chief that all his men are black. They're more motivated, says the chief. And then he says: you can go now. When the man leaves, the chief smiles, but his smile quickly turns into a scowl. At that moment Fate rose and went to the men's room, where he vomited up the rest of the lamb in his stomach. Then he left and went back to his mother's.

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RBolano 2666 (adam.bredenberg@gmail.com) - Highlight Loc. 5584-89 | Added on Thursday, July 26, 2012, 02:21 AM

Twelve scenes representing twelve stages in the production chain. In each scene, there was one recurring character: a black teenager, or a long-limbed, scrawny black man-child, or a man clinging to childhood, dressed in clothes that changed from scene to scene but that were invariably too small for him. He had apparently been assigned the role of clown, intended to make people laugh, although a closer look made it clear that he wasn't there only to make people laugh. The mural looked like the work of a lunatic. The last painting of a lunatic. In the middle of the clock, where all the scenes converged, there was a word painted in letters that looked like they were made of gelatin: fear.

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RBolano 2666 (adam.bredenberg@gmail.com) - Highlight Loc. 5592-93 | Added on Thursday, July 26, 2012, 02:22 AM

"Probably some kid from the neighborhood,"

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RBolano 2666 (adam.bredenberg@gmail.com) - Note Loc. 5592 | Added on Thursday, July 26, 2012, 02:22 AM

madness endemic?

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RBolano 2666 (adam.bredenberg@gmail.com) - Highlight Loc. 5678 | Added on Thursday, July 26, 2012, 02:27 AM

Marius Newell,"

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RBolano 2666 (adam.bredenberg@gmail.com) - Note Loc. 5698 | Added on Thursday, July 26, 2012, 02:29 AM

note that these images are paired with nausia... amalfitano with madness... the critics with emptiness. nietzschian.

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RBolano 2666 (adam.bredenberg@gmail.com) - Highlight Loc. 5751-53 | Added on Thursday, July 26, 2012, 09:35 PM

The Panthers had helped bring the change. With our grain of sand or our dump truck. We had contributed. So had his mother and all the other black mothers who wept at night and saw visions of the gates of hell when they should have been asleep.

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RBolano 2666 (adam.bredenberg@gmail.com) - Note Loc. 5758 | Added on Thursday, July 26, 2012, 09:36 PM

link to santa teresa... senseless violence... destruction caused both by system and by individual weakness

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RBolano 2666 (adam.bredenberg@gmail.com) - Note Loc. 5770 | Added on Thursday, July 26, 2012, 09:38 PM

this image becomes powerful... earlier there is a dicussion of blacks and the sea

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RBolano 2666 (adam.bredenberg@gmail.com) - Note Loc. 5821 | Added on Thursday, July 26, 2012, 09:44 PM

compare to nazi lit

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RBolano 2666 (adam.bredenberg@gmail.com) - Note Loc. 5865 | Added on Thursday, July 26, 2012, 09:50 PM

compare to the infrarealist manifesto

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RBolano 2666 (adam.bredenberg@gmail.com) - Highlight Loc. 5883-85 | Added on Thursday, July 26, 2012, 09:51 PM

Admiration. They want us to look at them, that's all. Their perfect teeth, their perfect bodies, their perfect manners, as if they were constantly breaking away from the sun and they were little pieces of fire, little pieces of blazing hell, here on this planet simply to be worshipped.

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RBolano 2666 (adam.bredenberg@gmail.com) - Highlight Loc. 5886-88 | Added on Thursday, July 26, 2012, 09:52 PM

Useless things are forced upon us, and it isn't because they improve our quality of life but because they're the fashion or markers of class, and fashionable people and high-class people require admiration and worship. Naturally, fashions don't last, one year, four at most, and then they pass through every stage of decay. But markers of class rot only when the corpse that was tagged with them

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RBolano 2666 (adam.bredenberg@gmail.com) - Note Loc. 5930 | Added on Friday, July 27, 2012, 01:12 PM

more horror. this is what america looks like to a chilean.

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RBolano 2666 (adam.bredenberg@gmail.com) - Highlight Loc. 5982-83 | Added on Friday, July 27, 2012, 01:22 PM

When he had finished singing he asked Fate whether it didn't strike him as an anthem made especially for black people. I don't know, said Fate, I never thought of it that way.

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RBolano 2666 (adam.bredenberg@gmail.com) - Highlight Loc. 6095-96 | Added on Friday, July 27, 2012, 01:32 PM

He had an easy smile and sometimes he clapped his hands to his face in what might have been astonishment or horror, or anything at all.

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RBolano 2666 (adam.bredenberg@gmail.com) - Highlight Loc. 6107-9 | Added on Friday, July 27, 2012, 01:40 PM

The young man raised his hands to his face and said something about willpower, about the power to hold a gaze. Then he removed his hands from his face and with shining eyes he said: I don't mean a natural gaze, a gaze from the natural realm, I mean a gaze in the abstract.

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RBolano 2666 (adam.bredenberg@gmail.com) - Highlight Loc. 6134-36 | Added on Friday, July 27, 2012, 01:42 PM

"We've gotten used to death," he heard the young man say. "It's always been that way," said the white-haired man, "always."

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RBolano 2666 (adam.bredenberg@gmail.com) - Highlight Loc. 6146-49 | Added on Friday, July 27, 2012, 01:43 PM

Words served that purpose. And the funny thing is, the archetypes of human madness and cruelty weren't invented by the men of our day but by our forebears. The Greeks, you might say, invented evil, the Greeks saw the evil inside us all, but testimonies or proofs of this evil no longer move us. They strike us as futile, senseless. You could say the same about madness. It was the Greeks who showed us the range of possibilities and yet now they mean nothing to us.

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RBolano 2666 (adam.bredenberg@gmail.com) - Highlight Loc. 6162-63 | Added on Friday, July 27, 2012, 01:44 PM

What happened to them could be written, you might say, it was legible. That said, words back then were mostly used in the art of avoidance, not of revelation. Maybe they revealed something all the same. I couldn't tell you.

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RBolano 2666 (adam.bredenberg@gmail.com) - Highlight Loc. 6182-86 | Added on Friday, July 27, 2012, 01:48 PM

"All right, then," said the white-haired man. "I'll tell you three things I'm sure of: (a) everyone living in that city is outside of society, and everyone, I mean everyone, is like the ancient Christians in the Roman circus; (b) the crimes have different signatures; (c) the city seems to be booming, it seems to be moving ahead in some ineffable way, but the best thing would be for every last one of the people there to head out into the desert some night and cross the border."

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RBolano 2666 (adam.bredenberg@gmail.com) - Highlight Loc. 6202-4 | Added on Friday, July 27, 2012, 01:49 PM

What pretty names, he thought. Indigo, sugar, ginger, cotton. The reddish flowers of the indigo bush. The dark blue paste, with copper glints. A woman painted indigo, washing herself in the shower.

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RBolano 2666 (adam.bredenberg@gmail.com) - Highlight Loc. 6250-56 | Added on Friday, July 27, 2012, 01:51 PM

"Have you ever driven in the desert?" "No," said Fate. "Well, it isn't easy. It looks easy. It looks like the simplest thing in the world, but there's nothing simple about it," said the cook. "You're right about that," said the waitress, "especially at night, driving at night in the desert scares me."

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RBolano 2666 (adam.bredenberg@gmail.com) - Highlight Loc. 6287-89 | Added on Friday, July 27, 2012, 01:54 PM

The man's loneliness was so great, Fate remembered, that he wanted to look away and cling to his mother, but instead he kept his eyes open until the bus was out of the woods, and buildings, factories, and warehouses once again lined the sides of the road.

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RBolano 2666 (adam.bredenberg@gmail.com) - Highlight Loc. 6362-65 | Added on Friday, July 27, 2012, 02:01 PM

She had a hoarse, nasal voice and she didn't talk like a New York secretary but like a country person who has just come from the cemetery. This woman has firsthand knowledge of the planet of the dead, thought Fate, and she doesn't know what she's saying anymore.

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RBolano 2666 (adam.bredenberg@gmail.com) - Highlight Loc. 6383-86 | Added on Friday, July 27, 2012, 08:29 PM

A naked man, seen from behind, was kneeling in the vestibule of a church. Around him at least ten angels in female form came flying out of the darkness, like butterflies summoned by his prayers. Everything else was darkness and vague shapes. The tattoo, although it was technically accomplished, looked as if it had been done in prison by a tattoo artist who for all his skill lacked tools and inks, but the scene it depicted was unsettling. When Fate asked the reporters who the man was, they answered that he was one of Merolino's sparring partners.

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RBolano 2666 (adam.bredenberg@gmail.com) - Highlight Loc. 6412-18 | Added on Friday, July 27, 2012, 08:46 PM

"What you looking at?" Omar Abdul said to him. "The landscape," he said, "it's one sad landscape." Next to him, the fighter scanned the horizon and then he said: "That's just how it is here. It's always sad at this time of day. It's a goddamn landscape for women."

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RBolano 2666 (adam.bredenberg@gmail.com) - Highlight Loc. 6462-64 | Added on Friday, July 27, 2012, 08:50 PM

Fate imagined the masseur reading in a dark room and a shudder passed through him. It must be something like happiness, he thought.

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RBolano 2666 (adam.bredenberg@gmail.com) - Highlight Loc. 6480-81 | Added on Friday, July 27, 2012, 08:52 PM

"Put your money on Merolino," said Omar Abdul after a moment of silence.

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RBolano 2666 (adam.bredenberg@gmail.com) - Note Loc. 6481 | Added on Friday, July 27, 2012, 08:53 PM

undermines narrative convention. in the hollywood movie, confidence is prophecy.

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RBolano 2666 (adam.bredenberg@gmail.com) - Highlight Loc. 6492-95 | Added on Saturday, July 28, 2012, 03:16 PM

As the Mexicans ate grilled meat with fried potatoes, Fate thought about Garcia's tattoo. Then he compared the loneliness of the ranch to the loneliness of his mother's apartment. He thought about her ashes, which were still there. He thought about the dead neighbor. He thought about Barry Seaman's neighborhood. And everywhere his memory alighted as the Mexicans ate seemed bleak.

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RBolano 2666 (adam.bredenberg@gmail.com) - Highlight Loc. 6552-63 | Added on Saturday, July 28, 2012, 04:20 PM

Charly Cruz asked him if he liked Spike Lee. Yes, said Fate, although he didn't really. "He seems Mexican," said Charly Cruz. "Maybe," said Fate. "That's an interesting way to look at it." "And what about Woody Allen?" "I like him," said Fate. "He seems Mexican too, but Mexican from Mexico City or Cuernavaca," said Charly Cruz. "Mexican from Cancun," said Chucho Flores.

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RBolano 2666 (adam.bredenberg@gmail.com) - Note Loc. 6595 | Added on Saturday, July 28, 2012, 04:30 PM

we remember...this doesnt make it true.

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RBolano 2666 (adam.bredenberg@gmail.com) - Highlight Loc. 6599-6600 | Added on Saturday, July 28, 2012, 04:32 PM

especially a whore called Justina, who, for reasons that escaped him but weren't too hard to figure out, was acquainted with some vampires in Mexico City who roamed at night disguised as policemen.

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RBolano 2666 (adam.bredenberg@gmail.com) - Highlight Loc. 6611-14 | Added on Saturday, July 28, 2012, 04:33 PM

"Do you want me to drive you to your motel?" asked Chucho Flores. Rosa Mendez smiled more broadly. It occurred to him that Chucho Flores might be gay.

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RBolano 2666 (adam.bredenberg@gmail.com) - Highlight Loc. 6688-90 | Added on Saturday, July 28, 2012, 06:14 PM

He saw her walking, saw her from behind, saw the back of her head as she watched a TV show, heard her laugh, saw her washing dishes in the sink. Her face, however, was always in shadows, as if in some way she were already dead or as if she were telling him, in actions instead of words, that faces weren't important in this life or the next.

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RBolano 2666 (adam.bredenberg@gmail.com) - Highlight Loc. 6704-5 | Added on Saturday, July 28, 2012, 06:15 PM

"Boxing," he said, "is a sport, and sports, like art, are beyond politics. Let's not mix sports and politics, Ralph."

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RBolano 2666 (adam.bredenberg@gmail.com) - Highlight Loc. 6729-32 | Added on Saturday, July 28, 2012, 06:16 PM

"About the women who've been killed," said Chucho Flores glumly. "The numbers are up," he said. "Every so often the numbers go up and it's news again and the reporters talk about it. People talk about it too, and the story grows like a snowball until the sun comes out and the whole damn ball melts and everybody forgets about it and goes back to work."

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RBolano 2666 (adam.bredenberg@gmail.com) - Highlight Loc. 6742-46 | Added on Saturday, July 28, 2012, 06:17 PM

Oil, thought Fate, but he didn't say it. "What don't you have?" he asked. "Time," said Chucho Flores. "We haven't got any fucking time." Time for what? thought Fate. Time for this shithole, equal parts lost cemetery and garbage dump, to turn into a kind of Detroit?

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RBolano 2666 (adam.bredenberg@gmail.com) - Highlight Loc. 6788-91 | Added on Saturday, July 28, 2012, 06:22 PM

But now the Mexican upper class is changing. They're getting richer and they go looking for wives north of the border. That's what you call improving the race. A short Mexican sends his short son to college in California. The kid has money and does whatever he wants and that impresses some girls. There's no place on earth with more dumb girls per square foot than a college in California.

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RBolano 2666 (adam.bredenberg@gmail.com) - Note Loc. 6798 | Added on Saturday, July 28, 2012, 06:24 PM

joke? related to the crimes

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RBolano 2666 (adam.bredenberg@gmail.com) - Note Loc. 6814 | Added on Saturday, July 28, 2012, 06:26 PM

this is very important

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RBolano 2666 (adam.bredenberg@gmail.com) - Highlight Loc. 6819-20 | Added on Saturday, July 28, 2012, 06:26 PM

For a brief instant he couldn't breathe, he saw his mother's empty apartment, he had a premonition of two people making love in a miserable room, all at the same time, a moment defined by the word climacteric.

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RBolano 2666 (adam.bredenberg@gmail.com) - Highlight Loc. 6939-47 | Added on Saturday, July 28, 2012, 06:36 PM

"What makes them interesting to us?" asked his editor. "Stupidity," said Fate. "The endless variety of ways we destroy ourselves." "Have you become a masochist, Oscar?" asked his editor. "Could be," said Fate. "You need to get more pussy," said the editor. "Get out more, listen to music, make friends, talk to them."

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RBolano 2666 (adam.bredenberg@gmail.com) - Note Loc. 7015 | Added on Saturday, July 28, 2012, 06:39 PM

racist blck guys... wont report unless their own raceis involved. narrow agenda. critical probably.

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RBolano 2666 (adam.bredenberg@gmail.com) - Highlight Loc. 7053-55 | Added on Saturday, July 28, 2012, 06:42 PM

"Because I'm a woman and women can't turn down assignments. Of course, I already knew what had happened to my predecessor. Everybody at the paper knew it. The case got a lot of attention.

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RBolano 2666 (adam.bredenberg@gmail.com) - Highlight Loc. 7097-99 | Added on Saturday, July 28, 2012, 06:49 PM

"My predecessor was the one who knew most about all of this. It took him seven years to get a general sense of what was going on. Life is unbearably sad, don't you think?"

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RBolano 2666 (adam.bredenberg@gmail.com) - Highlight Loc. 7115-19 | Added on Saturday, July 28, 2012, 06:51 PM

"But I'm scared. And I need company. This morning I drove past the Santa Teresa prison and I almost had a panic attack." "Is it that bad?" "It's like a dream," said Guadalupe Roncal. "It looks like something alive."

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RBolano 2666 (adam.bredenberg@gmail.com) - Highlight Loc. 7108-10 | Added on Saturday, July 28, 2012, 06:51 PM

The truth is I'd feel better if a man came with me, which goes against my beliefs as a feminist. Do you have anything against feminists? It's hard to be a feminist in Mexico.

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RBolano 2666 (adam.bredenberg@gmail.com) - Highlight Loc. 7122-24 | Added on Saturday, July 28, 2012, 06:51 PM

Don't be shocked by what I'm about to say, but it looks like a woman who's been hacked to pieces. Who's been hacked to pieces but is still alive. And the prisoners are living inside this woman."

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RBolano 2666 (adam.bredenberg@gmail.com) - Highlight Loc. 7145-46 | Added on Saturday, July 28, 2012, 06:52 PM

He has the face of a dreamer, but of a dreamer who's dreaming at great speed. A dreamer whose dreams are far out ahead of our dreams. And that scares me. Do you understand?"

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RBolano 2666 (adam.bredenberg@gmail.com) - Highlight Loc. 7184-92 | Added on Saturday, July 28, 2012, 06:56 PM

"Are you hungry?" the Mexican asked him. Fate said he was. The Mexican laughed and put on music. Fate heard an accordion and some far-off shouts, not of sorrow or joy but of pure energy, self-sufficient and self-consuming. Chucho Flores smiled and his smile remained stamped on his face as he kept driving, not looking at Fate, facing forward, as if he'd been fitted with a steel neck brace, as the wails came closer and closer to the microphones and the voices of people who Fate imagined as savage beasts began to sing or kept howling, less than at first, and shouting viva for no clear reason. "What is this?" asked Fate. "Sonoran jazz," said Chucho Flores.

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RBolano 2666 (adam.bredenberg@gmail.com) - Highlight Loc. 7195-96 | Added on Saturday, July 28, 2012, 06:57 PM

as if instead of drinking real alcohol Mexicans drank water with short-term hypnotic effects.

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RBolano 2666 (adam.bredenberg@gmail.com) - Highlight Loc. 7200-7204 | Added on Saturday, July 28, 2012, 06:58 PM

peaceful in a way that seemed to go beyond simple peacefulness, thought Fate, or maybe not, maybe her peacefulness was just peacefulness and a hint of weariness, peacefulness and banked embers, peacefulness and tranquillity and sleepiness, which is ultimately (sleepiness, that is) the wellspring and also the last refuge of peacefulness. But then peacefulness isn't just peacefulness, thought Fate. Or what we think of as peacefulness is wrong and peacefulness or the realms of peacefulness are really no more than a gauge of movement, an accelerator or a brake,

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RBolano 2666 (adam.bredenberg@gmail.com) - Note Loc. 7210 | Added on Saturday, July 28, 2012, 07:00 PM

like a dream. the visceral power of vomit

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RBolano 2666 (adam.bredenberg@gmail.com) - Highlight Loc. 7269-71 | Added on Sunday, July 29, 2012, 01:03 PM

Out of curiosity, he lifted the piece of bread on top: the sandwich was full of all kinds of things. He took a long drink of beer and stretched in his chair. Through the vine leaves he saw a bee, perched motionless. Two slender rays of sun fell vertically on the dirt floor.

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RBolano 2666 (adam.bredenberg@gmail.com) - Highlight Loc. 7285-86 | Added on Sunday, July 29, 2012, 01:04 PM

"Hills a garbage dump?"

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RBolano 2666 (adam.bredenberg@gmail.com) - Highlight Loc. 7365-69 | Added on Sunday, July 29, 2012, 01:11 PM

The fans in the cheap seats howled in delight and then they started to sing along. Three thousand Mexicans up in the gallery of the arena singing the same song in unison. Fate tried to get a look at them, but the lights, focused on the ring, left the upper part of the hall in darkness. The tone, he thought, was solemn and defiant, the battle hymn of a lost war sung in the dark. In the solemnity there was only desperation and death, but in the defiance there was a hint of corrosive humor, a humor that existed only in relation to itself and in dreams, no matter whether the dreams were long or short. Sonoran jazz.

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RBolano 2666 (adam.bredenberg@gmail.com) - Highlight Loc. 7374-76 | Added on Sunday, July 29, 2012, 01:13 PM

Fate understood that almost everybody at the arena thought Merolino Fernandez would win the fight. What made them so sure? For a moment he thought he knew, but the knowledge slipped like water through his fingers. All for the best, he thought, because the fleeting shadow of the idea (another stupid idea) might destroy him on the spot.

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RBolano 2666 (adam.bredenberg@gmail.com) - Highlight Loc. 7410-13 | Added on Sunday, July 29, 2012, 01:15 PM

"Me neither. I was there on the way somewhere else, when I was fifteen," said Rosa Mendez, "but I've forgotten everything about it. It's like something bad happened to me in Veracruz and my brain erased it. Do you know what I mean?"

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RBolano 2666 (adam.bredenberg@gmail.com) - Highlight Loc. 7471-75 | Added on Sunday, July 29, 2012, 01:18 PM

The fight was short. First Count Pickett came out. Polite applause, some boos. Then Merolino Fernandez came out. Thundering applause. In the first round, they sized each other up. In the second, Pickett went on the offensive and knocked his opponent out in less than a minute. Merolino Fernandez's body didn't even move where it lay on the canvas. His seconds hauled him into his corner and when he didn't recover the medics came in and took him off to the hospital.

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RBolano 2666 (adam.bredenberg@gmail.com) - Highlight Loc. 7491-93 | Added on Sunday, July 29, 2012, 01:19 PM

Some of the girls had tears in their eyes, and they seemed unreal, faces glimpsed in a dream. "This place is like hell," he said to Rosa Amalfitano.

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RBolano 2666 (adam.bredenberg@gmail.com) - Highlight Loc. 7538-40 | Added on Wednesday, August 01, 2012, 08:46 PM

And there's no sense of the abyss anymore, there's no vertigo before the movie begins, no one feels alone inside a multiplex. Then, Fate remembered, he began to talk about the end of the sacred.

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RBolano 2666 (adam.bredenberg@gmail.com) - Highlight Loc. 7638-44 | Added on Wednesday, August 01, 2012, 08:54 PM

"The women here aren't worth shit," said Omar Abdul. "Then you should go back to California," said Fate. Omar Abdul looked him in the eye and nodded several times. "I wish I was a goddamn reporter," he said, "you people don't miss a thing."

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RBolano 2666 (adam.bredenberg@gmail.com) - Highlight Loc. 7665-73 | Added on Wednesday, August 01, 2012, 08:58 PM

"What time is it?" he asked the man with the mustache, and the man shrugged his shoulders. In Charly Cruz's garage there was a mural painted on one of the cement walls. The mural was six feet tall and maybe ten feet long and showed the Virgin of Guadalupe in the middle of a lush landscape of rivers and forests and gold mines and silver mines and oil rigs and giant cornfields and wheat fields and vast meadows where cattle grazed. The Virgin had her arms spread wide, as if offering all of these riches in exchange for nothing. But despite being drunk, Fate noticed right away there was something wrong about her face. One of the Virgin's eyes was open and the other eye was closed.

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RBolano 2666 (adam.bredenberg@gmail.com) - Highlight Loc. 7669-73 | Added on Wednesday, August 01, 2012, 08:59 PM

The mural was six feet tall and maybe ten feet long and showed the Virgin of Guadalupe in the middle of a lush landscape of rivers and forests and gold mines and silver mines and oil rigs and giant cornfields and wheat fields and vast meadows where cattle grazed. The Virgin had her arms spread wide, as if offering all of these riches in exchange for nothing. But despite being drunk, Fate noticed right away there was something wrong about her face. One of the Virgin's eyes was open and the other eye was closed.

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RBolano 2666 (adam.bredenberg@gmail.com) - Highlight Loc. 7691-7710 | Added on Wednesday, August 01, 2012, 09:03 PM

An old woman with a heavily made-up face looked into the camera. After a while she began to whisper incomprehensible words and weep. She looked like a whore who'd retired and, Fate thought at times, was facing death. Then a thin, dark-skinned young woman with big breasts took off her clothes while seated on a bed. Out of the darkness came three men who first whispered in her ear and then fucked her. At first the woman resisted. She looked straight at the camera and said something in Spanish that Fate didn't understand. Then she faked an orgasm and started to scream. After that, the men, who until that moment had been taking turns, joined in all together, the first penetrating her vagina, the second her anus, and the third sticking his cock in her mouth. The effect was of a perpetual-motion machine. The spectator could see that the machine was going to explode at some point, but it was impossible to say what the explosion would be like and when it would happen. And then the woman came for real. An unforeseen orgasm that she was the last to expect. The woman's movements, constrained by the weight of the three men, accelerated. Her eyes were fixed on the camera, which in turn zoomed in on her face. Her eyes said something, although they spoke in an unidentifiable language. For an instant, everything about her seemed to shine, her breasts gleamed, her chin glistened, half hidden by the shoulder of one of the men, her teeth took on a supernatural whiteness. Then the flesh seemed to melt from her bones and drop to the floor of the anonymous brothel or vanish into thin air, leaving just a skeleton, no eyes, no lips, a death's-head laughing suddenly at everything. Then there was a street in a big Mexican city at dusk, probably Mexico City, a street swept by rain, cars parked along the curb, stores with their metal gates lowered, people walking fast so as not to be soaked. A puddle of rainwater. Water washing clean a car coated in a thick layer of dust. The lighted-up windows of government buildings. A bus stop next to a small park. The branches of a sick tree stretching vainly toward nothing. The face of the old whore, who smiles at the camera now as if to say: did I do it right? did I look good? is everybody happy? A redbrick staircase comes into view. A linoleum floor. The same rain, but filmed from inside a room. A plastic table with nicked edges. Glasses and a jar of Nescafe. A frying pan with the remains of scrambled eggs. A hallway. The body of a half-dressed woman sprawled on the floor. A door. A room in complete disarray. Two men sleeping in the same bed. A mirror. The camera zooms in on the mirror. The tape ends.

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RBolano 2666 (adam.bredenberg@gmail.com) - Highlight Loc. 7757-59 | Added on Wednesday, August 01, 2012, 09:05 PM

I've been dying all this time, he thought. I'm as cold as ice. If she hadn't taken my hand I would've died right here and they would've had to send my body back to New York.

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RBolano 2666 (adam.bredenberg@gmail.com) - Highlight Loc. 7762-65 | Added on Wednesday, August 01, 2012, 09:06 PM

He turned around and dealt Corona an uppercut to the chin, in the style of Count Pickett. Like Merolino Fernandez earlier, Corona dropped to the floor without a sound. Only then did Fate realize Corona was holding a gun.

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RBolano 2666 (adam.bredenberg@gmail.com) - Highlight Loc. 7781-82 | Added on Wednesday, August 01, 2012, 09:06 PM

Fate looked again at the limp body on the floor. He could have stared for hours.

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RBolano 2666 (adam.bredenberg@gmail.com) - Note Loc. 7717 | Added on Wednesday, August 01, 2012, 09:10 PM

nausia... and also earlier whenshe is in the car.

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RBolano 2666 (adam.bredenberg@gmail.com) - Highlight Loc. 7873-76 | Added on Wednesday, August 01, 2012, 09:15 PM

"Oh, so that's it," answered Rosa Mendez, "well, boleros are true, mana, the words of the songs come from deep inside all of us and they're always right."

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RBolano 2666 (adam.bredenberg@gmail.com) - Highlight Loc. 7888-93 | Added on Wednesday, August 01, 2012, 09:19 PM

"Full of what?" asked Rosa Amalfitano, "full of semen?" "No, mana, don't be disgusting, full of something else, it's like you're fucking a mountain but you're fucking inside a cave, know what I mean?" "In a cave?" asked Rosa Amalfitano. "That's right," said Rosa Mendez. "In other words it's like being fucked by a mountain in a cave inside the mountain itself," said Rosa Amalfitano. "Exactly," said Rosa Mendez.

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RBolano 2666 (adam.bredenberg@gmail.com) - Note Loc. 7923 | Added on Wednesday, August 01, 2012, 09:23 PM

perhaps the text is a mystery and the answer is this: we are all the murderers

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RBolano 2666 (adam.bredenberg@gmail.com) - Highlight Loc. 7939-43 | Added on Wednesday, August 01, 2012, 09:27 PM

Rosa thought it would be cocaine, but instead of white powder the box held tiny yellow pills. Chucho Flores took out two pills and swallowed them with a little bit of whiskey. For a while they talked, lying in bed, until he got on top of her again. This time he wasn't gentle at all. Surprised, Rosa didn't protest or say anything. It seemed as if Chucho Flores would put her in every possible position, and some of them—this Rosa realized later—she liked. When the sun came up they stopped fucking and left the motel.

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RBolano 2666 (adam.bredenberg@gmail.com) - Note Loc. 7950 | Added on Wednesday, August 01, 2012, 09:31 PM

not at all surprising

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RBolano 2666 (adam.bredenberg@gmail.com) - Highlight Loc. 7982-83 | Added on Wednesday, August 01, 2012, 09:37 PM

That night Amalfitano asked the Mexican three questions. The first was what he thought of hexagons. The second was whether he knew how to construct a hexagon. The third was what he thought about the killings of women in Santa Teresa.

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RBolano 2666 (adam.bredenberg@gmail.com) - Highlight Loc. 7997-99 | Added on Wednesday, August 01, 2012, 09:37 PM

"You: leave that ignorant, lying piece of shit. Me: I don't know, maybe when we get back to Europe I'll check into the Clfnico for an electroshock treatment."

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RBolano 2666 (adam.bredenberg@gmail.com) - Highlight Loc. 8011 | Added on Wednesday, August 01, 2012, 09:53 PM

apparent movement

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RBolano 2666 (adam.bredenberg@gmail.com) - Highlight Loc. 8036-44 | Added on Wednesday, August 01, 2012, 09:56 PM

"Well, there was a little old drunk, laughing. That was the picture on one side of the disk. And on the other side was a picture of a prison cell, or the bars of a cell. When you spun the disk the laughing drunk looked like he was behind bars." "Which isn't really a laughing matter, is it?" said Oscar Amalfitano. "No, it isn't," said Charly Cruz with a sigh. "Still, the drunk (by the way, why do you call him a little old drunk and not just a drunk?) was laughing, maybe because he knew he wasn't in jail."

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RBolano 2666 (adam.bredenberg@gmail.com) - Highlight Loc. 8046-55 | Added on Wednesday, August 01, 2012, 09:58 PM

Charly Cruz, as we've already said, was a relaxed man, and for those few seconds, although his poise and natural calm were unshaken, something did happen behind his face, as if the lens through which he was observing her father, Rosa remembered, had stopped working and he was proceeding, calmly, to change it, an operation that took less than a fraction of a second, but during which his gaze was necessarily left naked or empty, vacant, in any case, since one lens was being removed and another inserted, and both operations couldn't be carried out simultaneously, and for that fraction of a second, which Rosa remembered as if she had invented it herself, Charly Cruz's face was empty or it emptied, and the speed at which this happened was startling, say the speed of light, to put it in exaggerated but nevertheless roughly accurate terms, and the emptying of the face was complete, hair and teeth included, although to say hair and teeth in the presence of that blankness was like saying nothing, all of Charly Cruz's features emptied, his wrinkles, his veins, his pores, everything left defenseless, everything acquiring a dimension to which the only response, remembered Rosa, could be vertigo and nausea, although it wasn't.

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RBolano 2666 (adam.bredenberg@gmail.com) - Highlight Loc. 8060-61 | Added on Wednesday, August 01, 2012, 09:58 PM

In fact, we could even guess what the little old drunk is laughing about: he's laughing at our credulity, you might even say at our eyes."

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RBolano 2666 (adam.bredenberg@gmail.com) - Highlight Loc. 8207-9 | Added on Wednesday, August 01, 2012, 10:14 PM

"Every single thing in this country is an homage to everything in the world, even the things that haven't happened yet," he said.

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RBolano 2666 (adam.bredenberg@gmail.com) - Highlight Loc. 8215-21 | Added on Wednesday, August 01, 2012, 10:14 PM

When the clerk asked him whether he'd heard that Michael Jackson had bought or tried to buy the skeleton of the elephant man, Fate shrugged and said that Michael Jackson was sick. I don't think so, said the clerk, watching something presumably important that was happening on TV just then. "In my opinion," he said with his eyes fixed on the TV Fate couldn't see, "Michael knows things the rest of us don't." "We all know things we think nobody else knows," said Fate.

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RBolano 2666 (adam.bredenberg@gmail.com) - Note Loc. 8221 | Added on Wednesday, August 01, 2012, 10:15 PM

jackson as elephant manesque

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RBolano 2666 (adam.bredenberg@gmail.com) - Highlight Loc. 8309-11 | Added on Wednesday, August 01, 2012, 10:26 PM

Where's your passport? Go get it. Pack a suitcase. But hurry, he said, and then he went back to his post at the window. Behind the Spirit that belonged to the neighbors across the street, he saw the black Peregrino he was looking for.

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RBolano 2666 (adam.bredenberg@gmail.com) - Highlight Loc. 8317-20 | Added on Wednesday, August 01, 2012, 10:27 PM

"Does it have to do with the killings?" he asked. "Do you think this Chucho Flores is mixed up in that?" "They're all mixed up in it," said Amalfitano.

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RBolano 2666 (adam.bredenberg@gmail.com) - Highlight Loc. 8340-42 | Added on Wednesday, August 01, 2012, 10:28 PM

Then Fate saw, as if it were a movie he didn't entirely understand but that in a strange way took him back to his mother's death, how Amalfitano kissed and hugged his daughter and then strode purposefully outside.

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RBolano 2666 (adam.bredenberg@gmail.com) - Highlight Loc. 8359 | Added on Wednesday, August 01, 2012, 10:30 PM

oneiric

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RBolano 2666 (adam.bredenberg@gmail.com) - Highlight Loc. 8364-66 | Added on Wednesday, August 01, 2012, 10:31 PM

"They're good people, friendly, hospitable. Mexicans are hardworking, they're hugely curious about everything, they care about people, they're brave and generous, their sadness isn't destructive, it's life giving,"

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RBolano 2666 (adam.bredenberg@gmail.com) - Highlight Loc. 8391-93 | Added on Wednesday, August 01, 2012, 10:34 PM

"The problem is bad luck," said Rosa. Fate didn't hear her.

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RBolano 2666 (adam.bredenberg@gmail.com) - Highlight Loc. 8395-97 | Added on Wednesday, August 01, 2012, 10:35 PM

For a moment he thought he hadn't had an erection since his mother's death, but then he rejected the idea, it couldn't have been that long, he thought, but it could have, the irremediable was possible, the unsalvageable was possible, so why couldn't the blood flow to his cock have stopped for what really was a fairly short period of time?

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RBolano 2666 (adam.bredenberg@gmail.com) - Highlight Loc. 8442-45 | Added on Wednesday, August 01, 2012, 10:55 PM

For an instant he imagined a set of scales, like the scales of Blind Justice, except that instead of two platters, there were two bottles, or something like two bottles. The bottle on the left was clear and full of desert sand. There were several holes in it through which the sand escaped. The bottle on the right was full of acid. There were no holes in it, but the acid was eating away at the bottle from the inside.

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RBolano 2666 (adam.bredenberg@gmail.com) - Note Loc. 8450 | Added on Wednesday, August 01, 2012, 10:56 PM

this mystery has very high stakes

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RBolano 2666 (adam.bredenberg@gmail.com) - Highlight Loc. 8451-52 | Added on Wednesday, August 01, 2012, 10:57 PM

At moments, the highway was like a river. The suspected killer said it, thought Fate. The giant fucking albino who appeared along with the black cloud.

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RBolano 2666 (adam.bredenberg@gmail.com) - Highlight Loc. 8458-63 | Added on Wednesday, August 01, 2012, 10:58 PM

Suddenly a voice began to sing a song. It sounded like a woodcutter chopping down trees. The voice wasn't singing in English. At first Fate couldn't figure out what the language was, until Rosa, beside him, said it was German. The voice grew louder. It occurred to Fate that he might still be dreaming. The trees fell one by one. I'm a giant lost in the middle of a burned forest. But someone will come to rescue me. Rosa translated the suspect's string of curses for him. A polyglot woodcutter, thought Fate, who speaks English as well as he speaks Spanish and who sings in German. I'm a giant lost in the middle of a charred forest. And yet only I know where I'm going, only I know my destiny.

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RBolano 2666 (adam.bredenberg@gmail.com) - Note Loc. 8483 | Added on Wednesday, August 01, 2012, 11:44 PM

note the sudden clinical precision

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RBolano 2666 (adam.bredenberg@gmail.com) - Highlight Loc. 8493-96 | Added on Wednesday, August 01, 2012, 11:45 PM

Other girls and women who didn't make it onto the list or were never found, who were buried in unmarked graves in the desert or whose ashes were scattered in the middle of the night, when not even the person scattering them knew where he was, what place he had come to.

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RBolano 2666 (adam.bredenberg@gmail.com) - Note Loc. 8518 | Added on Wednesday, August 01, 2012, 11:48 PM

if true, clearly not part of serial

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RBolano 2666 (adam.bredenberg@gmail.com) - Note Loc. 8525 | Added on Wednesday, August 01, 2012, 11:50 PM

attempting to flee?

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RBolano 2666 (adam.bredenberg@gmail.com) - Note Loc. 8525 | Added on Wednesday, August 01, 2012, 11:52 PM

attempting to flee? was she a prostitute or a slut? note that this is realism... not necessarily judging. but note also the description of her clothing.

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RBolano 2666 (adam.bredenberg@gmail.com) - Highlight Loc. 8527 | Added on Wednesday, August 01, 2012, 11:52 PM

Nor was she carrying a lighter or matches.

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RBolano 2666 (adam.bredenberg@gmail.com) - Highlight Loc. 8543-45 | Added on Wednesday, August 01, 2012, 11:55 PM

There was no autopsy, in deference to the family, and the ballistic analysis, which was never made public, was later lost for good somewhere in transit between the courts of Santa Teresa and Hermosillo.

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RBolano 2666 (adam.bredenberg@gmail.com) - Highlight Loc. 8547 | Added on Wednesday, August 01, 2012, 11:55 PM

black Peregrino

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RBolano 2666 (adam.bredenberg@gmail.com) - Highlight Loc. 8547 | Added on Wednesday, August 01, 2012, 11:55 PM

A black Peregrino with tinted windows passed by.

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RBolano 2666 (adam.bredenberg@gmail.com) - Highlight Loc. 8561-64 | Added on Thursday, August 02, 2012, 12:02 AM

Goddamn motherfucking asshole, it's your fault, he said, and he started after the medic. The other medic tried to intervene, but when he saw the knife in the knife sharpener's hand, he decided to lock himself in the ambulance and call the police. For a while the knife sharpener chased the medic until his fury, exasperation, and bloodlust abated, or until he got tired. And then he stopped, took his cart, and headed off down Calle El Arroyo until the onlookers who had gathered around the ambulance lost sight of him.

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RBolano 2666 (adam.bredenberg@gmail.com) - Note Loc. 8561 | Added on Thursday, August 02, 2012, 12:02 AM

in a way

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RBolano 2666 (adam.bredenberg@gmail.com) - Note Loc. 8568 | Added on Thursday, August 02, 2012, 12:04 AM

is this a latin name?

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RBolano 2666 (adam.bredenberg@gmail.com) - Highlight Loc. 8581-82 | Added on Thursday, August 02, 2012, 12:06 AM

In the dump where the dead woman was found, the trash of the slum dwellers piled up along with the waste of the maquiladoras.

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RBolano 2666 (adam.bredenberg@gmail.com) - Highlight Loc. 8593 | Added on Thursday, August 02, 2012, 12:09 AM

The policeman said yes, of course, and tucked the money the other man handed him into the pocket of his regulation pants.

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RBolano 2666 (adam.bredenberg@gmail.com) - Note Loc. 8595 | Added on Thursday, August 02, 2012, 12:10 AM

de sade

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RBolano 2666 (adam.bredenberg@gmail.com) - Highlight Loc. 8602-4 | Added on Thursday, August 02, 2012, 12:11 AM

Calle Jazmin, one of the streets parallel to Avenida Carranza, in Colonia Carranza, and employed at the File-Sis maquiladora, recently built on the road to Nogales, some five miles from Santa Teresa.

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RBolano 2666 (adam.bredenberg@gmail.com) - Highlight Loc. 8608-9 | Added on Thursday, August 02, 2012, 12:15 AM

Once the suspect had been questioned, it was revealed that the motive of the crime was jealousy, warranted or not,

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RBolano 2666 (adam.bredenberg@gmail.com) - Highlight Loc. 8611 | Added on Thursday, August 02, 2012, 10:37 PM

Cerro Estrella,

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RBolano 2666 (adam.bredenberg@gmail.com) - Highlight Loc. 8632-33 | Added on Thursday, August 02, 2012, 10:43 PM

There he stopped and lit a cigarette. A Ducados, unfiltered. Then he continued on to his car. From here, he thought, everything looked different.

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RBolano 2666 (adam.bredenberg@gmail.com) - Note Loc. 8633 | Added on Thursday, August 02, 2012, 10:44 PM

returning to the scene of the crime?

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RBolano 2666 (adam.bredenberg@gmail.com) - Highlight Loc. 8639-40 | Added on Thursday, August 02, 2012, 10:45 PM

The stranger sat in one of the last pews and got right down on his knees, his head buried in his hands as if it ached or he felt ill.

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RBolano 2666 (adam.bredenberg@gmail.com) - Highlight Loc. 8646-49 | Added on Thursday, August 02, 2012, 10:46 PM

I'm busy, my child, he said. Father, said the little old lady, there's a man here who's polluting the house of the Lord. Yes, child, I'll be with you in a moment, said the priest. Father, I don't like this one bit, do something, for the love of God. As she talked, the little old lady seemed to dance. I'm coming, my child, be patient, I'm busy, said the priest.

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RBolano 2666 (adam.bredenberg@gmail.com) - Highlight Loc. 8654-55 | Added on Thursday, August 02, 2012, 10:49 PM

The stranger saw them coming and gazed at them with his eyes full of tears and asked them to leave him alone. Almost at the same moment, a blade appeared in his hand, and as the old ladies in the front pews screamed, he stabbed the sexton.

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RBolano 2666 (adam.bredenberg@gmail.com) - Highlight Loc. 8660 | Added on Thursday, August 02, 2012, 10:50 PM

To them, the stranger was no average Mexican, he was the devil incarnate.

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RBolano 2666 (adam.bredenberg@gmail.com) - Note Loc. 8705 | Added on Thursday, August 02, 2012, 10:55 PM

so the detective doesnt pursue the case because he doesnt want to offend her

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RBolano 2666 (adam.bredenberg@gmail.com) - Highlight Loc. 8729-30 | Added on Friday, August 03, 2012, 01:14 AM

The bastard must have a huge bladder. Or else he holds it as long as he can and waits until he's inside a church to let go.

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RBolano 2666 (adam.bredenberg@gmail.com) - Note Loc. 8738 | Added on Friday, August 03, 2012, 01:15 AM

indian graves

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RBolano 2666 (adam.bredenberg@gmail.com) - Highlight Loc. 8739-41 | Added on Friday, August 03, 2012, 01:19 AM

The attacks on San Rafael and San Tadeo got more attention in the local press than the women killed in the preceding months.

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RBolano 2666 (adam.bredenberg@gmail.com) - Highlight Loc. 8768-69 | Added on Friday, August 03, 2012, 01:22 AM

dubbed the attacker the Demon Penitent.

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RBolano 2666 (adam.bredenberg@gmail.com) - Highlight Loc. 8780-82 | Added on Friday, August 03, 2012, 01:24 AM

That night, Juan de Dios Martinez thought to himself that he was beginning to like the Penitent. The first attack was violent and the sexton was almost killed, but as the days went by he was perfecting his technique. With the second attack he had only frightened some churchgoers, and with the third no one saw him and he was able to work in peace.

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RBolano 2666 (adam.bredenberg@gmail.com) - Highlight Loc. 8769-70 | Added on Friday, August 03, 2012, 01:24 AM

As far as Juan de Dios Martinez knew, the culprit might be anyone, but the police decided it had been the Penitent and he thought it best to go along with the official story.

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RBolano 2666 (adam.bredenberg@gmail.com) - Highlight Loc. 8801 | Added on Friday, August 03, 2012, 01:26 AM

fronton,

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RBolano 2666 (adam.bredenberg@gmail.com) - Note Loc. 8830 | Added on Friday, August 03, 2012, 01:29 AM

dandies

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RBolano 2666 (adam.bredenberg@gmail.com) - Highlight Loc. 8857-58 | Added on Friday, August 03, 2012, 01:31 AM

On the stretcher, covered in a gray plastic sheet, lay the body of Emilia Mena Mena. Nobody noticed.

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RBolano 2666 (adam.bredenberg@gmail.com) - Highlight Loc. 8867-69 | Added on Friday, August 03, 2012, 01:32 AM

In Mexico City they call them teporochos, but a teporocho is a survivor, a cynic and a humorist, compared to the human beings who swarmed alone or in pairs around El Chile. There weren't many of them. They spoke a slang that was hard to understand.

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RBolano 2666 (adam.bredenberg@gmail.com) - Highlight Loc. 8870-76 | Added on Friday, August 03, 2012, 01:33 AM

The night residents of El Chile were few. Their life expectancy was short. They died after seven months, at most, of picking their way through the dump. Their feeding habits and their sex lives were a mystery. It was likely they had forgotten how to eat or fuck. Or that food and sex were beyond their reach by then, unattainable, indescribable, beyond action and expression. All, without exception, were sick. To strip the clothes from a body in El Chile was to skin it. The population was stable: never fewer than three, never more than twenty.

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RBolano 2666 (adam.bredenberg@gmail.com) - Highlight Loc. 8881-83 | Added on Friday, August 03, 2012, 01:37 AM

When the police in Ciudad Guzman were alerted, some officers made a visit to the residence in question, equipped with the necessary warrants, but they found no trace of the alleged boyfriend and killer. The case remained open and was soon forgotten.

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RBolano 2666 (adam.bredenberg@gmail.com) - Bookmark Loc. 8897 | Added on Friday, August 03, 2012, 01:51 AM

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RBolano 2666 (adam.bredenberg@gmail.com) - Note Loc. 8897 | Added on Friday, August 03, 2012, 01:52 AM

compare to earlier where care was taken to dress victim

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RBolano 2666 (adam.bredenberg@gmail.com) - Highlight Loc. 8902 | Added on Friday, August 03, 2012, 01:54 AM

Only then did he realize a stake had been driven straight through her.

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RBolano 2666 (adam.bredenberg@gmail.com) - Highlight Loc. 8928-29 | Added on Friday, August 03, 2012, 01:59 AM

Her left hand rested on some guaco leaves.

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RBolano 2666 (adam.bredenberg@gmail.com) - Highlight Loc. 8961-63 | Added on Friday, August 03, 2012, 02:04 AM

Sergio Gonzalez asked one girl he ended up with whether she liked to dance, and she said she liked it more than anything in the world. The answer struck him as illuminating, though he couldn't say why, and also devastatingly sad.

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RBolano 2666 (adam.bredenberg@gmail.com) - Highlight Loc. 8963 | Added on Friday, August 03, 2012, 02:04 AM

chilango

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RBolano 2666 (adam.bredenberg@gmail.com) - Highlight Loc. 8965-68 | Added on Friday, August 03, 2012, 02:04 AM

At some point, Zamudio took him aside and said they could sleep with the girls. Zamudio's face was distorted by the strobe lights and he looked like a madman. Gonzalez shrugged. The next day he woke up alone in his hotel room with the sensation of having seen or heard something forbidden. Or at least inappropriate, awkward.

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RBolano 2666 (adam.bredenberg@gmail.com) - Note Loc. 8990 | Added on Friday, August 03, 2012, 02:09 AM

is this the true church? look back.

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RBolano 2666 (adam.bredenberg@gmail.com) - Highlight Loc. 8995-9001 | Added on Friday, August 03, 2012, 02:16 AM

the trickle of Central American immigrants, about the hundreds of Mexicans who arrived each day in search of work at the maquiladoras or hoping to cross the border, about the human trafficking by polleros and coyotes, about the starvation wages paid at the factories, about how those wages were still coveted by the desperate who arrived from Queretaro or Zacatecas or Oaxaca, desperate Christians, said the priest (which was an odd way to describe them, especially for a priest), who embarked on the most incredible journeys, sometimes alone and sometimes with their families in tow, until they reached the border and only then did they rest or cry or pray or get drunk or get high or dance until they fell down exhausted. The priest sounded like he was chanting a litany, and for a moment, as he listened, Sergio Gonzalez closed his eyes and nearly fell asleep.

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RBolano 2666 (adam.bredenberg@gmail.com) - Highlight Loc. 9006-7 | Added on Friday, August 03, 2012, 02:16 AM

Liberation theology, especially, said the priest. I like Boff and the Brazilians. But I read detective novels, too.

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RBolano 2666 (adam.bredenberg@gmail.com) - Note Loc. 9011 | Added on Friday, August 03, 2012, 02:17 AM

he is guilty... apathy

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RBolano 2666 (adam.bredenberg@gmail.com) - Highlight Loc. 9028-31 | Added on Friday, August 03, 2012, 02:21 AM

The saddest thing, thought Juan de Dios Martinez, was that the narco, or the suited back of the man he thought was a narco, was hardly paying any attention to them, busy as he was talking to a man with the face of a mongoose and a hooker with the face of a cat. Weren't we going to call each other by our first names?

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RBolano 2666 (adam.bredenberg@gmail.com) - Highlight Loc. 9028-31 | Added on Friday, August 03, 2012, 02:21 AM

The saddest thing, thought Juan de Dios Martinez, was that the narco, or the suited back of the man he thought was a narco, was hardly paying any attention to them, busy as he was talking to a man with the face of a mongoose and a hooker with the face of a cat.

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RBolano 2666 (adam.bredenberg@gmail.com) - Highlight Loc. 9053-55 | Added on Friday, August 03, 2012, 03:00 AM

There are odder things than sacraphobia, said Elvira Campos, especially if you consider that we're in Mexico and religion has always been a problem here. In fact, I'd say all Mexicans are essentially sacraphobes.

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RBolano 2666 (adam.bredenberg@gmail.com) - Highlight Loc. 9069-71 | Added on Friday, August 03, 2012, 03:02 AM

Or gynophobia, which is fear of women, and naturally afflicts only men. Very widespread in Mexico, although it manifests itself in different ways. Isn't that a slight exaggeration? Not a bit: almost all Mexican men are afraid of women.

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RBolano 2666 (adam.bredenberg@gmail.com) - Highlight Loc. 9088-90 | Added on Friday, August 03, 2012, 03:04 AM

Between being afraid of everything and being afraid of my own fear, I'd take the latter. Don't forget I'm a policeman and if I was scared of everything I couldn't work. But if you're afraid of your own fears, you're forced to live in constant contemplation of them, and if they materialize, what you have is a system that feeds on itself, a vicious cycle, said the director.

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RBolano 2666 (adam.bredenberg@gmail.com) - Note Loc. 9114 | Added on Friday, August 03, 2012, 03:07 AM

routine... not very meaninful. this i what he sacrificed seeing the patients for?

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RBolano 2666 (adam.bredenberg@gmail.com) - Highlight Loc. 9148-50 | Added on Friday, August 03, 2012, 03:12 AM

He imagined that the coyote he'd hit was a female coyote and it was looking for a safe place to give birth. That's why it didn't see me, he thought, but he wasn't satisfied by the explanation.

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RBolano 2666 (adam.bredenberg@gmail.com) - Highlight Loc. 9155-65 | Added on Friday, August 03, 2012, 03:14 AM

That night the Santa Teresa police chief slept soundly. He dreamed about his twin brother. They were fifteen and they were poor and they had gone out to roam the scrub hills where many years later Colonia Lindavista would rise. They crossed a gully where boys sometimes went in the rainy season to hunt toads, which were poisonous and had to be killed with stones, although he and his brother were interested in lizards, not toads. At dusk they returned to Santa Teresa, children scattering through the countryside like defeated soldiers. On the edge of the city there was always traffic, trucks going to Hermosillo or heading north or on their way to Nogales. Some were inscribed with odd phrases. One said: In a hurry? Go right on under me. Another one said: Passing on the left? just pump my horn. And another one: Like the ride? In the dream neither he nor his brother talked, but all of their movements were identical, the same stride, the same pace, the arm swinging. His brother was already quite a bit taller, but they still looked alike. Then they were back on the streets of Santa Teresa and they strolled along the sidewalk and the dream vanished little by little in a comfortable yellow haze.

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RBolano 2666 (adam.bredenberg@gmail.com) - Note Loc. 9177 | Added on Friday, August 03, 2012, 03:17 AM

important. this is like the city

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RBolano 2666 (adam.bredenberg@gmail.com) - Note Loc. 9221 | Added on Friday, August 03, 2012, 03:22 AM

assumed she was a prostitute... and that those were her clothes

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RBolano 2666 (adam.bredenberg@gmail.com) - Highlight Loc. 9226-27 | Added on Friday, August 03, 2012, 03:23 AM

a difficult place to reach unless you were driving a garbage truck.

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RBolano 2666 (adam.bredenberg@gmail.com) - Note Loc. 9253 | Added on Friday, August 03, 2012, 03:27 AM

again, confusion with regards to identity. misleading clues? if there is one central killer, he is evolving

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RBolano 2666 (adam.bredenberg@gmail.com) - Note Loc. 9257 | Added on Friday, August 03, 2012, 03:28 AM

she knew him

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RBolano 2666 (adam.bredenberg@gmail.com) - Note Loc. 9263 | Added on Friday, August 03, 2012, 03:30 AM

are schools a luxury? is she middle class? did a policeman realize how easy it was to get away wth such a crime?

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RBolano 2666 (adam.bredenberg@gmail.com) - Note Loc. 9277 | Added on Friday, August 03, 2012, 03:33 AM

go back an look for oedipal stuff. mother killing is as dark and powerful as oedipus complex but less explored and defined. he cant have been the penitent, right? what sort o madness is at work here? what portion is social?

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RBolano 2666 (adam.bredenberg@gmail.com) - Note Loc. 9294 | Added on Friday, August 03, 2012, 03:35 AM

a joke? or anearnest homage to real men?

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RBolano 2666 (adam.bredenberg@gmail.com) - Note Loc. 9352 | Added on Friday, August 03, 2012, 06:40 PM

with or against the drug lords, the polie are involved. it is matter of factions, not honest vs corrupt

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RBolano 2666 (adam.bredenberg@gmail.com) - Highlight Loc. 9378 | Added on Friday, August 03, 2012, 06:43 PM

I'd like to remind you that one of those faggots came to me on your recommendation. True,

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RBolano 2666 (adam.bredenberg@gmail.com) - Bookmark Loc. 9397 | Added on Friday, August 03, 2012, 06:46 PM

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RBolano 2666 (adam.bredenberg@gmail.com) - Highlight Loc. 9397-98 | Added on Friday, August 03, 2012, 06:46 PM

On their way to the bar in question, the other truck driver, Rigoberto Resendiz, was dazzled for a few seconds by a flash in the desert.

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RBolano 2666 (adam.bredenberg@gmail.com) - Highlight Loc. 9428-33 | Added on Friday, August 03, 2012, 07:53 PM

There were twenty people jammed into one of the cells. He stared at them without blinking. Some were asleep on their feet. One who was up against the bars had his pants undone. The ones in the back were a shapeless mass of darkness and hair. It smelled of vomit. The cell must not have been more than ten feet square. In the corridor he saw Epifanio, who was watching what was happening in the other cells with a cigarette between his lips. He moved toward him to tell him the men were going to suffocate or be crushed to death, but with his first step he was silenced. In the other cells policemen were raping the whores from La Riviera.

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RBolano 2666 (adam.bredenberg@gmail.com) - Highlight Loc. 9434-35 | Added on Friday, August 03, 2012, 07:54 PM

What did those whores do? asked Lalo. It looks like they bumped off another girl, said Epifanio. Lalo Cura was quiet.

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RBolano 2666 (adam.bredenberg@gmail.com) - Highlight Loc. 9447-48 | Added on Friday, August 03, 2012, 07:57 PM

In all, they spent two years in prison.

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RBolano 2666 (adam.bredenberg@gmail.com) - Highlight Loc. 9465-68 | Added on Friday, August 03, 2012, 08:05 PM

She also wondered, especially in the first few months, whether he had died in the desert, at night, alone, listening to the coyotes howl or thinking of his children, or on an American street, killed by a driver who left him to die, but these thoughts paralyzed her (in them everyone, including her husband, spoke a different, incomprehensible, language), and she decided not to think them.

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RBolano 2666 (adam.bredenberg@gmail.com) - Highlight Loc. 9478-82 | Added on Friday, August 03, 2012, 08:07 PM

She didn't mind spending nights without sleeping, working two shifts back to back, or staying up until two in the morning in the kitchen when she had to leave for the factory at six, making the chile-spiked sandwiches her fellow workers would eat the next day. In fact, the physical effort filled her with energy, her exhaustion was transformed into vivacity and grace, the days were long, slow, and the world (perceived as an endless shipwreck) showed her its brightest face and made her aware, as a matter of course, of the brightness of her

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RBolano 2666 (adam.bredenberg@gmail.com) - Highlight Loc. 9491-92 | Added on Friday, August 03, 2012, 08:08 PM

Her older daughter, Livia, wasn't able to come with her because Interzone was of the opinion that it was sufficient to have given her mother leave.

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RBolano 2666 (adam.bredenberg@gmail.com) - Highlight Loc. 9491-95 | Added on Friday, August 03, 2012, 08:08 PM

Her older daughter, Livia, wasn't able to come with her because Interzone was of the opinion that it was sufficient to have given her mother leave. The next day Penelope Mendez Becerra was still missing. Her mother and brother and sister showed up at the police station again and wanted to know what progress had been made. The policeman behind the desk told them not to be insolent. The Aquiles Serdan principal and three teachers were at the station, inquiring about Penelope, and it was they who led the family away before they could be fined for disorderly conduct.

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RBolano 2666 (adam.bredenberg@gmail.com) - Note Loc. 9495 | Added on Friday, August 03, 2012, 08:11 PM

note: create spreadsheet of all crimes

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RBolano 2666 (adam.bredenberg@gmail.com) - Highlight Loc. 9500-9501 | Added on Friday, August 03, 2012, 08:14 PM

At night the family would gather at home and talk about Penelope in words that meant nothing or whose ultimate meaning only they could understand.

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RBolano 2666 (adam.bredenberg@gmail.com) - Highlight Loc. 9502-3 | Added on Friday, August 03, 2012, 08:14 PM

past the clandestine dump El Chile.

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RBolano 2666 (adam.bredenberg@gmail.com) - Highlight Loc. 9504-5 | Added on Friday, August 03, 2012, 08:14 PM

and then strangled.

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RBolano 2666 (adam.bredenberg@gmail.com) - Highlight Loc. 9565-66 | Added on Friday, August 03, 2012, 08:21 PM

Only after she left did Erica realize he suspected the two of them of being whores.

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RBolano 2666 (adam.bredenberg@gmail.com) - Highlight Loc. 9577-78 | Added on Friday, August 03, 2012, 08:22 PM

The nurse met her eyes and shook her head. It's worse here, she said.

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RBolano 2666 (adam.bredenberg@gmail.com) - Highlight Loc. 9597-9600 | Added on Friday, August 03, 2012, 08:26 PM

The body exhibited stab wounds, most them very deep, to the neck, chest, and abdomen. It was discovered by some workers who immediately alerted the police. In the forensic examination a significant sampling of semen was found in the vagina, and it was established that Lucy Anne Sander had been raped several times. Death was caused by one of five stab wounds, any of which might have been fatal.

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RBolano 2666 (adam.bredenberg@gmail.com) - Highlight Loc. 9626-28 | Added on Friday, August 03, 2012, 08:28 PM

Do you think they told you the truth, Harry? she asked. No, I don't, said the sheriff, but I plan to make it my business to find it out. I believe you, Harry, she said, and started to cry.

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RBolano 2666 (adam.bredenberg@gmail.com) - Highlight Loc. 9633-37 | Added on Friday, August 03, 2012, 08:30 PM

Its head was buried in a hole. As if the killer, clearly a lunatic, had thought it was enough to bury the head. Or as if he'd thought that by covering the head with earth the rest of the body would be invisible. The body was facedown with its hands pressed to its body. Both hands were missing the index and little finger. There were stains of coagulated blood in the chest region. The woman wore a light dress, purple, the kind that fastens in front. She wasn't wearing stockings or shoes. In the subsequent forensic examination it was determined that despite multiple cuts to the chest and arms, the cause of death was strangulation, with a fracture of the hyoid bone. There were no signs of rape.

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RBolano 2666 (adam.bredenberg@gmail.com) - Highlight Loc. 9641-42 | Added on Friday, August 03, 2012, 08:31 PM

Inspector Jose Marquez held Luis Chantre for a few days, but his alibi was impeccable.

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RBolano 2666 (adam.bredenberg@gmail.com) - Highlight Loc. 9653-57 | Added on Friday, August 03, 2012, 08:32 PM

She was dressed and next to her was her schoolbag full of books and notebooks. According to the forensic examination, she had been raped and strangled. In the subsequent investigation, some friends said they had seen Monica get into a black car with tinted windows, maybe a Peregrino or a MasterRoad or a Silencioso. It didn't look as if she was taken by force. She had time to scream, but she didn't scream. When she saw one of her friends, she even waved goodbye. She didn't seem to be afraid.

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RBolano 2666 (adam.bredenberg@gmail.com) - Highlight Loc. 9673-75 | Added on Friday, August 03, 2012, 08:35 PM

Then he asked her where she'd found the body and she said in the bathroom. Well, let's put her back in the bathroom, you don't want trouble with the cops, said the man, motioning to the boy to take the dead woman by the feet as he lifted her by the shoulders, returning her to the original scene of death.

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RBolano 2666 (adam.bredenberg@gmail.com) - Note Loc. 9677 | Added on Friday, August 03, 2012, 08:36 PM

a very black joke

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RBolano 2666 (adam.bredenberg@gmail.com) - Highlight Loc. 9688-90 | Added on Friday, August 03, 2012, 08:37 PM

Inside the shack, several sports magazines were found, as well as a biography of Flores Magon, some sweatshirts, a pair of sandals, two pairs of shorts, and three photographs of Mexican boxers cut out of a magazine and stuck to the wall next to the mattress, as if Perez Ochoa had wanted to burn the faces and fighting stances of those champions onto his retina before he went to sleep.

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RBolano 2666 (adam.bredenberg@gmail.com) - Note Loc. 9690 | Added on Friday, August 03, 2012, 08:38 PM

another isolated incedent. why? jealousy? sadism?

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RBolano 2666 (adam.bredenberg@gmail.com) - Note Loc. 9739 | Added on Friday, August 03, 2012, 08:44 PM

is he fighting the crmes or looking for revenge? if the formr has he been corrupted? look up miguel montes. i believe he was mentioned elsewhere.

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RBolano 2666 (adam.bredenberg@gmail.com) - Highlight Loc. 9743 | Added on Friday, August 03, 2012, 08:49 PM

La Vaca.

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RBolano 2666 (adam.bredenberg@gmail.com) - Note Loc. 9780 | Added on Friday, August 03, 2012, 08:53 PM

a very strange story. worth examining.

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RBolano 2666 (adam.bredenberg@gmail.com) - Bookmark Loc. 9821 | Added on Friday, August 03, 2012, 08:56 PM

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RBolano 2666 (adam.bredenberg@gmail.com) - Highlight Loc. 9821-24 | Added on Friday, August 03, 2012, 08:56 PM

think nothing ever disappears, said the Mexican. There are people, and animals, too, and even objects, that for one reason or another sometimes seem to want to disappear, to vanish. Whether you believe it or not, Harry, sometimes a stone wants to vanish, I've seen it. But God won't let it happen. He won't let it happen because He can't. Do you believe in God, Harry? Yes, Senor Demetrio, said Harry Magana. Well, then, trust in God, He won't let anything disappear.

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RBolano 2666 (adam.bredenberg@gmail.com) - Highlight Loc. 9843-47 | Added on Friday, August 03, 2012, 08:58 PM

The woman demanded money and insisted on swift payment. Otherwise beware the consequences, it said. The third letter, to judge by the handwriting, since it wasn't signed either, was from the same woman, with whom Miguel still hadn't settled his debt, and it said he had three days to show up with the money, you know where, and if not—and here, according to Demetrio Aguila and also Harry Magana, it was possible to discern a hint of sympathy, the hint of feminine sympathy Miguel could always count on, even at the worst of moments—the woman recommended that he leave town as soon as possible and without a word to anybody.

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RBolano 2666 (adam.bredenberg@gmail.com) - Note Loc. 9864 | Added on Friday, August 03, 2012, 09:00 PM

matches modus operendi of peregrino

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RBolano 2666 (adam.bredenberg@gmail.com) - Note Loc. 9873 | Added on Friday, August 03, 2012, 09:01 PM

suggests that they are clean

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RBolano 2666 (adam.bredenberg@gmail.com) - Highlight Loc. 9882-84 | Added on Friday, August 03, 2012, 09:03 PM

Darling, Juan de Dios Martinez would say to her sometimes, sweetheart, love, and in the darkness she would tell him to be quiet and then suck every last drop from him—of semen? of his soul? of the little life he felt, at the time, remained to him? They made love, at her express request, in semidarkness.

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RBolano 2666 (adam.bredenberg@gmail.com) - Highlight Loc. 9898-9903 | Added on Friday, August 03, 2012, 09:05 PM

Only one thing was clear, or at least clear to Epifanio: the woman wasn't from the neighborhood, she hadn't been strangled and raped in the neighborhood, so why dump the body in the upper part of the city, on streets assiduously patrolled at night by the police or private security guards? why go to the effort to leave the body on the second floor of a building under construction, with all the risks that entailed, including a fall down stairs still missing a railing, when the logical thing would be to dispose of it in the desert or at the edge of a dump? For two days he thought about it. As he ate, as he listened to his companions talk about sports or women, as he drove Pedro Negrete's car, as he slept. Until he decided that no matter how much he thought about it he wasn't going to come up with a good answer, and then he didn't think about it anymore.

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RBolano 2666 (adam.bredenberg@gmail.com) - Note Loc. 9913 | Added on Friday, August 03, 2012, 09:07 PM

why is she so distant? what does she want? what does he want? note his concern with beng with her pubicly... does he want image? respect?

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RBolano 2666 (adam.bredenberg@gmail.com) - Note Loc. 9927 | Added on Friday, August 03, 2012, 09:09 PM

doesnt sound like peregrino

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RBolano 2666 (adam.bredenberg@gmail.com) - Note Loc. 9943 | Added on Friday, August 03, 2012, 09:11 PM

most non peregrino murders seem to be boyfriends

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RBolano 2666 (adam.bredenberg@gmail.com) - Highlight Loc. 9995-96 | Added on Friday, August 03, 2012, 09:16 PM

Every hundred feet the world changes, said Florita Almada. The idea that some places are the same as others is a lie. The world is a kind of tremor.

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RBolano 2666 (adam.bredenberg@gmail.com) - Highlight Loc. 10012 | Added on Friday, August 03, 2012, 09:19 PM

One day, by the miraculous laws of symmetry, her husband went blind.

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RBolano 2666 (adam.bredenberg@gmail.com) - Highlight Loc. 10016-17 | Added on Friday, August 03, 2012, 09:19 PM

But the problem, she explained, was that to buy and especially to sell livestock a certain sensibility was required, a certain training, a certain propensity to blindness that she in no way possessed.

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RBolano 2666 (adam.bredenberg@gmail.com) - Highlight Loc. 10019-20 | Added on Friday, August 03, 2012, 09:20 PM

one of the many in the blessed state of Sonora,

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RBolano 2666 (adam.bredenberg@gmail.com) - Highlight Loc. 10020 | Added on Saturday, August 04, 2012, 12:03 AM

Benito Juarez

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RBolano 2666 (adam.bredenberg@gmail.com) - Highlight Loc. 10028-52 | Added on Saturday, August 04, 2012, 12:29 AM

If it were possible to convey what one feels when night falls and the stars come out and one is alone in the vastness, and life's truths (night truths) begin to march past one by one, somehow swooning or as if the person out in the open were swooning or as if a strange sickness were circulating in the blood unnoticed. What are you doing, moon, up in the sky? asks the little shepherd in the poem. What are you doing, tell me, silent moon? Aren't you tired of plying the eternal byways? The shepherd's life is like your life. He rises at first light and moves his flock across the field. Then, weary, he rests at evening and hopes for nothing more. What good is the shepherd's life to him or yours to you? Tell me, the shepherd muses, said Florita Almada in a transported voice, where is it heading, my brief wandering, your immortal journey? Man is born into pain, and being born itself means risking death, said the poem. And also: But why bring to light, why educate someone we'll console for living later? And also: If life is misery, why do we endure it? And also: This, unblemished moon, is the mortal condition. But you're not mortal, and what I say may matter little to you. And also, and on the contrary: You, eternal solitary wanderer, you who are so pensive, it may be you understand this life on earth, what our suffering and sighing is, what this death is, this last paling of the face, and leaving Earth behind, abandoning all familiar, loving company. And also: What does the endless air do, and that deep eternal blue? What does this enormous solitude portend? And what am I? And also: This is what I know and feel: that from the eternal motions, from my fragile being, others may derive some good or happiness. And also: But life for me is wrong. And also: Old, white haired, weak, barefoot, bearing an enormous burden, up mountain and down valley, over sharp rocks, across deep sands and bracken, through wind and storm, when it's hot and later when it freezes, running on, running faster, crossing rivers, swamps, falling and rising and hurrying faster, no rest or relief, battered and bloody, at last coming to where the way and all effort has led: terrible, immense abyss into which, upon falling, all is forgotten. And also: This, O virgin moon, is human life. And also: O resting flock, who don't, I think, know your own misery! How I envy you! Not just because you travel as if trouble free and soon forget each need, each hurt, each deathly fear, but more because you're never bored. And also: When you lie in the shade, on the grass, you're calm and happy, and you spend the great part of the year this way and feel no boredom. And also: I sit on the grass, too, in the shade, but an anxiousness invades my mind as if a thorn is pricking me. And also: Yet I desire nothing, and till now I have no reason for complaint. And at this point, after sighing deeply, Florita Almada would say that several conclusions could be drawn: (1) that the thoughts that seize a shepherd can easily gallop away with him because it's human nature; (2) that facing boredom head-on was an act of bravery and Benito Juarez had done it and she had done it too and both had seen terrible things in the face of boredom, things she would rather not recall; (3) that the poem, now she remembered, was about an Asian shepherd, not a Mexican shepherd, but it made no difference, since shepherds are the same everywhere; (4) that if it was true that all effort led to a vast abyss, she had two recommendations to begin with, first, not to cheat people, and, second, to treat them properly. Beyond that, there was room for discussion.

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RBolano 2666 (adam.bredenberg@gmail.com) - Highlight Loc. 10109-11 | Added on Saturday, August 04, 2012, 03:16 AM

danger, the moment of revelation, unsolicited and afterward uncomprehended, the kind of revelation that flashes past and leaves us with only the certainty of a void, a void that very quickly escapes even the word that contains it.

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RBolano 2666 (adam.bredenberg@gmail.com) - Highlight Loc. 10123-24 | Added on Saturday, August 04, 2012, 03:17 AM

The silence must be broken,

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RBolano 2666 (adam.bredenberg@gmail.com) - Highlight Loc. 10123-24 | Added on Saturday, August 04, 2012, 03:17 AM

The silence must be broken, friends.

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RBolano 2666 (adam.bredenberg@gmail.com) - Note Loc. 10142 | Added on Saturday, August 04, 2012, 01:44 PM

does his name suggest that attempts to solve the problem are madness?

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RBolano 2666 (adam.bredenberg@gmail.com) - Highlight Loc. 10147-50 | Added on Saturday, August 04, 2012, 01:45 PM

How could Llanos rape her, one of them asked, if he was her husband? The others laughed, but Lalo Cura took the question seriously. He raped her because he forced her, because he made her do something she didn't want to do, he said. Otherwise, it wouldn't be rape. One of the young cops asked if he planned to go to law school. Do you want to be a lawyer, man? No, said Lalo Cura. The others looked at him like he was some kind of idiot. Meanwhile, in December 1994 there were no more killings of women, at least that anyone knew of, and the year ended peacefully.

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RBolano 2666 (adam.bredenberg@gmail.com) - Note Loc. 10181 | Added on Saturday, August 04, 2012, 02:01 PM

magana is investigating the americans death

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RBolano 2666 (adam.bredenberg@gmail.com) - Highlight Loc. 10208-13 | Added on Saturday, August 04, 2012, 02:06 PM

The bad rap policemen got, sometimes deserved, sometimes not, the cross we all have to bear. A cross, thought Harry Magana. Then Ramirez talked about women. Women with their legs spread. Spread wide. What do you see when a woman spreads her legs? What do you see? For Christ's sake, this wasn't dinner conversation. A goddamn hole. A goddamn hole. A goddamn gash, like the crack in the earth's crust they've got in California, the San Bernardino fault, I think it's called. Is there something like that in California?

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RBolano 2666 (adam.bredenberg@gmail.com) - Highlight Loc. 10216-24 | Added on Saturday, August 04, 2012, 02:07 PM

A decent woman, a good woman. A woman you treat badly, without meaning to. Out of habit. We become blind (or at least partly blind) out of habit, Harry, until suddenly, when there's no turning back, this woman falls ill in our arms. A woman who took care of everyone, except herself, and she begins to fade away in our arms. And even then we don't realize, said Ramirez. Did I tell him my story? wondered Harry Magana. Have I sunk that low? Things aren't the way they seem, whispered Ramirez. Do you think things are the way they seem, as simple as that, no complicating factors, no questions asked? No, said Harry Magana, it's always important to ask questions. Correct, said the Tijuana cop. It's always important to ask questions, and it's important to ask yourself why you ask the questions you ask. And do you know why? Because just one slip and our questions take us places we don't want to go. Do you see what I'm getting at, Harry? Our questions are, by definition, suspect. But we have to ask them. And that's the most fucked-up thing of all. That's life, said Harry Magana.

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RBolano 2666 (adam.bredenberg@gmail.com) - Highlight Loc. 10233-35 | Added on Saturday, August 04, 2012, 02:10 PM

He was a friend of Miguel Montes. As far as he knew, Miguel Montes was still in Santa Teresa, where he lived with some whore. He didn't know the whore's name, but he did know she was young and she'd worked for a while at a club called Internal Affairs. Elsa Fuentes? asked Harry Magana, and Chucho turned around, looked at him, and nodded.

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RBolano 2666 (adam.bredenberg@gmail.com) - Highlight Loc. 10248-50 | Added on Saturday, August 04, 2012, 02:15 PM

That night he followed the path of the stars. As he crossed the Rio Colorado he saw a meteor in the sky, or a shooting star, and he made a silent wish as his mother had taught him.

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RBolano 2666 (adam.bredenberg@gmail.com) - Note Loc. 10323 | Added on Saturday, August 04, 2012, 02:29 PM

savage detectives?

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RBolano 2666 (adam.bredenberg@gmail.com) - Highlight Loc. 10324 | Added on Saturday, August 04, 2012, 02:30 PM

Juana and the woman (though it might have been a man, it wasn't clear) tagged Vaca.

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RBolano 2666 (adam.bredenberg@gmail.com) - Highlight Loc. 10342-48 | Added on Saturday, August 04, 2012, 02:33 PM

When the man managed it at last and began to drag it into the hallway, he turned and looked at Harry Magana without surprise. The bundle was wrapped in plastic and Harry Magana felt choked by nausea and rage. For an instant the two of them stood frozen. The short man was wearing a black zip-up overall, probably the official overall of a maquiladora, and his expression was angry and even embarassed. I always get stuck with the dirty work, it seemed to say. With a sense of fatalism, Harry Magana imagined that he was somewhere else, not a few minutes from downtown, at Francisco Diaz's house, which was like being at no one's house, but in the country, in the dust and brush, at a shack with a corral and a henhouse and a woodstove, in the Santa Teresa desert or any other desert.

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RBolano 2666 (adam.bredenberg@gmail.com) - Note Loc. 10350 | Added on Saturday, August 04, 2012, 02:35 PM

if he is dead, it makes little difference to the reader, the true detective. we havethe info he gained regardless.

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RBolano 2666 (adam.bredenberg@gmail.com) - Highlight Loc. 10358-59 | Added on Saturday, August 04, 2012, 02:37 PM

The workers' behavior varied depending on the season, the harvest, the little livestock they had left, in sum, on the economy, like everyone else's.

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RBolano 2666 (adam.bredenberg@gmail.com) - Highlight Loc. 10379-82 | Added on Saturday, August 04, 2012, 02:45 PM

The suspect owned a car, which wasn't found either, leading to the conclusion that he had fled after killing his wife. Claudia Perez Millan worked as a waitress in a coffee shop in the center of the city. Juan Aparicio Regla had no known occupation. Some thought he worked at a maquiladora, others that he was a pollero,

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RBolano 2666 (adam.bredenberg@gmail.com) - Highlight Loc. 10386-88 | Added on Saturday, August 04, 2012, 02:46 PM

She had just started working at EMSA, one of the oldest maquiladoras in Santa Teresa, which wasn't in any industrial park but in the middle of Colonia La Preciada, like a melon-colored pyramid, its sacrificial altar hidden behind smokestacks and two enormous hangar doors though which workers and trucks entered.

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RBolano 2666 (adam.bredenberg@gmail.com) - Note Loc. 10397 | Added on Saturday, August 04, 2012, 02:47 PM

peregrino?

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RBolano 2666 (adam.bredenberg@gmail.com) - Highlight Loc. 10415-19 | Added on Saturday, August 04, 2012, 02:55 PM

The arms of the dead woman, who was about thirty-five, dark and solidly built, were covered in needle tracks, so the police delved into the city's drug scene, without turning up any clues that might lead to the identification of the body. According to the medical examiner, the cause of death was an overdose of bad cocaine. The possibility wasn't ruled out that the cocaine had been supplied by the suspected killer, and that Penalva Brown knew he was giving her poison.

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RBolano 2666 (adam.bredenberg@gmail.com) - Highlight Loc. 10435-39 | Added on Saturday, August 04, 2012, 02:58 PM

Olga's few friends confirmed what her sister and the young lawyer had said. Everybody loved her, she was the kind of woman you didn't often come across in Santa Teresa anymore, that is, virtuous, true to her word, honest, and responsible. And she knew how to dress, too, with elegance and good taste. Concerning her taste in clothing the medical examiner was in agreement. He also discovered something odd about the body: the skirt she was wearing the night of her death—the skirt in which she was found—was on backward.

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RBolano 2666 (adam.bredenberg@gmail.com) - Highlight Loc. 10445-49 | Added on Saturday, August 04, 2012, 03:00 PM

The Huntsville sheriff had disappeared and all available reports indicated that he had last been seen in Santa Teresa. The police chief wanted to know whether he had been in Santa Teresa on official business or as a tourist. As a tourist, of course, said the consul. Well, then, what do you expect me to know? asked Pedro Negrete, hundreds of tourists come through here every day. The consul reflected for an instant and ultimately agreed that the police chief was right. Better not to stir things up, he thought.

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RBolano 2666 (adam.bredenberg@gmail.com) - Highlight Loc. 10452 | Added on Saturday, August 04, 2012, 03:01 PM

Probably the sheriff flipped out, said Kurt A. Banks, and killed himself in the desert.

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RBolano 2666 (adam.bredenberg@gmail.com) - Highlight Loc. 10461-64 | Added on Saturday, August 04, 2012, 03:03 PM

She lived with three other women from Queretaro, and she wasn't known to have a boyfriend, although she'd been involved with two fellow workers from the same maquiladora. The men were found and questioned for several days and both could substantiate their alibis, although one of them ended up in the hospital with nervous shock and three broken ribs.

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RBolano 2666 (adam.bredenberg@gmail.com) - Highlight Loc. 10467-69 | Added on Saturday, August 04, 2012, 03:04 PM

Her body, however, was found fully clothed, jeans, black panties, panty hose, white bra, white blouse, garments without a single rip or tear, from which it was deduced that the killer or killers, after stripping and molesting and killing her, had proceeded to dress her before dumping her body behind the Pemex tanks.

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RBolano 2666 (adam.bredenberg@gmail.com) - Note Loc. 10476 | Added on Saturday, August 04, 2012, 03:58 PM

is this a short story? insuffrable gauco

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RBolano 2666 (adam.bredenberg@gmail.com) - Highlight Loc. 10479-82 | Added on Saturday, August 04, 2012, 04:01 PM

At times Conan Mitchell would stare at the old men and think it was impossible they could remember his childhood so well, since some of them didn't seem much older than he was. But the old men clattered their false teeth and recalled the young Abe Mitchell's pranks as if they were occurring before their eyes and Conan had no choice but to pretend he was laughing too. The truth is, he didn't have clear memories of his childhood.

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RBolano 2666 (adam.bredenberg@gmail.com) - Highlight Loc. 10540-60 | Added on Saturday, August 04, 2012, 05:52 PM

But what would happen if I went up to one of them and took off his glasses and saw that he didn't have circles under his eyes? It frightens me to imagine it. It makes me angry. Very angry, dear friends. But it made her even more frightened and angry, and this she had to say here, in front of the cameras, on Reinaldo's lovely show, so fittingly called An Hour with Reinaldo, a nice, wholesome program that gave everyone a chance to laugh and enjoy themselves and learn something new in the process, because Reinaldo was a cultured young man and he always took the trouble to find interesting guests, a singer, a painter, a retired fire-eater from Mexico City, an interior designer, a ventriloquist and his dummy, a mother of fifteen children, a composer of romantic ballads, and now that she was here, she said, it was her duty to take this opportunity to speak of other things, by which she meant that she couldn't talk about herself, she couldn't let herself succumb to that temptation of the ego, that frivolity, which might not be frivolity or sin or anything of the sort if she were a girl of seventeen or eighteen, but would be unforgivable in a woman of seventy, although my life, she said, could furnish material for several novels or at least a soap opera, but God and especially the blessed Virgin would deliver her from talking about herself, Reinaldo will have to forgive me, he wants me to talk about myself, but there's something more important than me and my so-called miracles, which aren't miracles, as I never get tired of saying, but the fruit of many years of reading and handling plants, in other words my miracles are the product of work and observation, and, possibly, I say possibly, also of a natural talent, said Florita. And then she said: it makes me very angry, it makes me frightened and angry what's happening in the lovely state of Sonora, which is my homeland, the place I was born and will probably die. And then she said: I'm talking about visions that would take away the breath of the bravest of brave men. In dreams I see the crimes and it's as if a television set had exploded and I keep seeing, in the little shards of screen scattered around my bedroom, horrible scenes, endless tears. And she said: after these visions I can't sleep. No matter what I take for my nerves, nothing helps. The shoemaker's son always goes barefoot. So I stay up until dawn and I try to read and do something useful and practical, but in the end I sit down at the kitchen table and start to mull over the problem. And finally she said: I'm talking about the women brutally murdered in Santa Teresa, I'm talking about the girls and the mothers of families and the workers from all walks of life who turn up dead each day in the neighborhoods and on the edges of that industrious city in the northern part of our state. I'm talking about Santa Teresa. I'm talking about Santa Teresa.

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RBolano 2666 (adam.bredenberg@gmail.com) - Highlight Loc. 10568 | Added on Saturday, August 04, 2012, 05:53 PM

Aurora Munoz had gotten into a black Peregrine with two men she seemed to know.

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RBolano 2666 (adam.bredenberg@gmail.com) - Highlight Loc. 10571-72 | Added on Saturday, August 04, 2012, 05:54 PM

The report of Inspector Angel Fernandez, who took charge of the case, indicated, on the contrary, that the cause of death was alcohol poisoning.

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RBolano 2666 (adam.bredenberg@gmail.com) - Highlight Loc. 10570 | Added on Saturday, August 04, 2012, 05:54 PM

Michoacan and General Saavedra, in Colonia Trabajadores.

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RBolano 2666 (adam.bredenberg@gmail.com) - Highlight Loc. 10575 | Added on Saturday, August 04, 2012, 05:55 PM

Practically a whore, said the police.

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RBolano 2666 (adam.bredenberg@gmail.com) - Highlight Loc. 10580-86 | Added on Saturday, August 04, 2012, 05:56 PM

According to the medical examiner, Monica had been anally and vaginally raped, although traces of semen were also found in her throat, which led to talk in police circles of a "three-way" rape. There was one cop, however, who said a full rape meant a rape of all five orifices. Asked what the other two were, he said the ears. Another cop said he'd heard of a man from Sinaloa who raped seven ways. That is, the five known orifices, plus the eyes. And another cop said he'd heard of a man from Mexico City who did it eight ways, which meant the seven orifices previously mentioned, call it the seven classics, plus the navel, where the man from Mexico City would make a small incision with his knife, then stick in his dick, although to do that, of course, you had to be out of your tree.

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RBolano 2666 (adam.bredenberg@gmail.com) - Highlight Loc. 10586-88 | Added on Saturday, August 04, 2012, 05:59 PM

Anyway, the story of the "three-way" rape spread and became a favorite among the Santa Teresa police, acquiring semiofficial status and occasionally cropping up in reports, interrogations, and off-the-record conversations with the press. In the case of Monica Posadas, the victim hadn't only been raped "three ways," but also strangled.

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RBolano 2666 (adam.bredenberg@gmail.com) - Highlight Loc. 10597-602 | Added on Saturday, August 04, 2012, 06:00 PM

Upon being questioned, it wasn't long before Monica's stepfather began to flagrantly contradict himself, and in the end, he admitted he was guilty of the murder. According to his confession, he had loved Monica in secret from the time she was fifteen. His life since then had been a living hell, he told Inspector Juan de Dios Martinez, Inspector Ernesto Ortiz Rebolledo, and Inspector Efram Rebolledo, but he had controlled himself and stayed away from her, partly because she was his stepdaughter and partly because her mother was also the mother of his own children.

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RBolano 2666 (adam.bredenberg@gmail.com) - Highlight Loc. 10656-59 | Added on Saturday, August 04, 2012, 06:06 PM

Sometimes, he thought, being an arts reporter in Mexico was the same as reporting on crime. And being on the police beat was the same as working for the arts page, although in the minds of the crime reporters, all the arts reporters were faggots (assthetes, they called them), and in the minds of the arts reporters, all the crime reporters were scum.

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RBolano 2666 (adam.bredenberg@gmail.com) - Note Loc. 10659 | Added on Saturday, August 04, 2012, 06:07 PM

violence as ar... this is present elsewhere

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RBolano 2666 (adam.bredenberg@gmail.com) - Highlight Loc. 10662 | Added on Saturday, August 04, 2012, 06:08 PM

louche glory back in Tin-Tan's day,

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RBolano 2666 (adam.bredenberg@gmail.com) - Highlight Loc. 10662-64 | Added on Saturday, August 04, 2012, 06:08 PM

a place that had enjoyed a certain louche glory back in Tin-Tan's day, and since then had been in perpetual decline, one of those interminable Mexican declines, meaning a decline stitched together here and there with a muted laugh, a muted shot, a muted whimper.

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RBolano 2666 (adam.bredenberg@gmail.com) - Highlight Loc. 10664 | Added on Saturday, August 04, 2012, 06:08 PM

A Mexican decline? More like a Latin American decline.

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RBolano 2666 (adam.bredenberg@gmail.com) - Highlight Loc. 10682-84 | Added on Saturday, August 04, 2012, 06:11 PM

Workers, workers, she said. And then Sergio apologized, and, as if a lightbulb had gone on over his head, he glimpsed an aspect of the situation that until now he'd overlooked.

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RBolano 2666 (adam.bredenberg@gmail.com) - Note Loc. 10684 | Added on Saturday, August 04, 2012, 06:12 PM

are pure women preferred?

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RBolano 2666 (adam.bredenberg@gmail.com) - Note Loc. 10684 | Added on Saturday, August 04, 2012, 06:12 PM

are 'pure' women preferred?

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RBolano 2666 (adam.bredenberg@gmail.com) - Highlight Loc. 10689-90 | Added on Saturday, August 04, 2012, 06:13 PM

But most significant of all was that, just like young Marisa Hernandez Silva, one of her breasts had been severed and the nipple of the other breast had been bitten off.

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RBolano 2666 (adam.bredenberg@gmail.com) - Highlight Loc. 10692-93 | Added on Saturday, August 04, 2012, 06:14 PM

city workers who were trying to move the El Chile dump discovered the rotting body of a woman.

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RBolano 2666 (adam.bredenberg@gmail.com) - Highlight Loc. 10696-98 | Added on Saturday, August 04, 2012, 06:15 PM

At the end of September, the body of a thirteen-year-old girl was found on the east side of Cerro Estrella. Like Marisa Hernandez Silva and the woman by the Santa Teresa—Cananea highway, her right breast had been severed and the nipple of her left breast had been bitten off.

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RBolano 2666 (adam.bredenberg@gmail.com) - Highlight Loc. 10700-10701 | Added on Saturday, August 04, 2012, 06:16 PM

As if the girl had come to Santa Teresa alone and lived there invisibly until the murderer or murderers took notice of her and killed her.

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RBolano 2666 (adam.bredenberg@gmail.com) - Note Loc. 10701 | Added on Saturday, August 04, 2012, 06:17 PM

perhaps the whores are procuresses? if someone was running a sodom type scheme... itd make sense if archimboldi was involved. bolanos artists often taketheir art into the real world

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RBolano 2666 (adam.bredenberg@gmail.com) - Highlight Loc. 10731-35 | Added on Saturday, August 04, 2012, 06:23 PM

At first the girl remained standing to one side, and then she sat on a flat stone and said she didn't smoke. Epifanio gazed at the stone: it was very odd, shaped like a chair, but with no back, and the fact that Rosa Maria Medina's mother or someone in the family had set it there, in that little yard, showed good taste and even sensitivity. He asked the girl where the stone had come from. My father found it, said Rosa Maria Medina, in Casas Negras, and he carried it back all by himself. That's where Estrella's body was found, said Epifanio.

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RBolano 2666 (adam.bredenberg@gmail.com) - Highlight Loc. 10780-81 | Added on Saturday, August 04, 2012, 07:10 PM

Anything is possible, said the judge. Anything is possible, but there's no need to descend into chaos, no need to lose our bearings, said the man from the chamber of commerce.

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RBolano 2666 (adam.bredenberg@gmail.com) - Highlight Loc. 10792-99 | Added on Saturday, August 04, 2012, 07:17 PM

Sometimes the doctor treated him like a patient, he thought. He remembered that once she had talked to him about age, her age and his. I'm fifty-one, she'd told him, and you're thirty-four. Before long, no matter how well I take care of myself, I'll be a lonely old hag and you'll still be young. Do you really want to sleep with someone like your mother? It was the first time Juan de Dios had heard her talk like that. An old hag? Honestly it had never crossed his mind to think of her as old. Because I kill myself exercising, she said. Because I take care of myself. Because I keep thin and I buy the most expensive antiwrinkle products on the market. Antiwrinkle products? Lotions, moisturizing creams, woman things, she said in a neutral voice that frightened him. I like you the way you are, he said. His voice didn't sound convincing to him. If he opened his eyes, though, and gazed at the real world and tried to control his own jitters, everything stayed more or less in place.

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RBolano 2666 (adam.bredenberg@gmail.com) - Highlight Loc. 10832-33 | Added on Saturday, August 04, 2012, 07:22 PM

The man's name was Klaus Haas. He was six foot three and he had canary-yellow hair, as if he dyed it once a week. The first time Epifanio visited the store, Klaus Haas was sitting at his desk talking to a customer.

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RBolano 2666 (adam.bredenberg@gmail.com) - Note Loc. 10844 | Added on Saturday, August 04, 2012, 07:24 PM

an ex whore? a procuress?

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RBolano 2666 (adam.bredenberg@gmail.com) - Highlight Loc. 10851 | Added on Saturday, August 04, 2012, 07:25 PM

Haas held out his hand and when Epifanio shook it he got the feeling the blond man's bones were made of steel.

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RBolano 2666 (adam.bredenberg@gmail.com) - Highlight Loc. 10861-63 | Added on Saturday, August 04, 2012, 07:26 PM

There was a news program on TV. He saw a group of blacks running along the streets of an American city, a man talking about Mars, a group of women who strode out of the ocean and burst into laughter in front of the cameras.

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RBolano 2666 (adam.bredenberg@gmail.com) - Highlight Loc. 10870-84 | Added on Saturday, August 04, 2012, 07:30 PM

An hour later they left and everything was much clearer to Epifanio. Klaus Haas was German but he had acquired American citizenship. He owned two stores in Santa Teresa where he sold everything from Walkmans to computers, and he had another similar store in Tijuana, which meant he had to travel once a month to check the books, pay the employees, and replenish stock. He also traveled to the United States every two months, although not on a fixed date or in a regular way, except that none of his trips ever lasted more than three days. He had lived for a while in Denver and left because of woman trouble. He liked women, but as far as anyone knew he wasn't married and he didn't have a girlfriend. He frequented clubs and brothels downtown, and he was friendly with a few of the owners, for whom he had at some point installed security cameras or computer accounting programs. In one case, at least, the boy knew this for a fact, because he had been the programmer. As a boss Haas was fair and reasonable and he didn't pay badly, although sometimes he got angry for no good reason and might hit anyone, no matter who it was. The boy had never been hit, but he had been scolded for coming in late to work a few times. Who had Haas hit, then? A secretary, the boy said. Asked if the secretary he'd hit was the current secretary, the boy said no, it was the previous one, a woman he hadn't met. Then how did he know she'd been hit? Because that was what the oldest employees said, the ones at the warehouse, where the güero stored part of his stock. The names of the employees were all neatly recorded. Finally, Epifanio showed the boy the picture of Estrella Ruiz Sandoval. Have you seen her around the store? The boy looked at the picture and said yes, her face was somehow familiar.

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RBolano 2666 (adam.bredenberg@gmail.com) - Note Loc. 10884 | Added on Saturday, August 04, 2012, 07:31 PM

anger issues... especially against women. trips to america for publishing? is the crime linked to him a peregrino murder?

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RBolano 2666 (adam.bredenberg@gmail.com) - Highlight Loc. 10902-4 | Added on Saturday, August 04, 2012, 07:33 PM

That's how he found out that Haas had never lived in Denver, but in Tampa, where he had been accused of attempted rape by a woman named Laurie Enciso.

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RBolano 2666 (adam.bredenberg@gmail.com) - Highlight Loc. 10908-10 | Added on Saturday, August 04, 2012, 07:33 PM

He was born in Bielefeld, in the former West Germany, in 1955, and he immigrated to the United States in 1980.

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RBolano 2666 (adam.bredenberg@gmail.com) - Note Loc. 10910 | Added on Saturday, August 04, 2012, 07:34 PM

a strange man with a creepy history and anger issues... circumstantial

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RBolano 2666 (adam.bredenberg@gmail.com) - Highlight Loc. 10918-19 | Added on Saturday, August 04, 2012, 07:35 PM

The other bathroom was so dirty that it might have been abandoned, even though the water was running and the toilet worked, but instead it seemed set there on purpose to illustrate an asymmetrical and incomprehensible phenomenon.

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RBolano 2666 (adam.bredenberg@gmail.com) - Highlight Loc. 10945-46 | Added on Saturday, August 04, 2012, 07:37 PM

An ordinary man doesn't fuck a woman when she's bleeding, said Ortiz Rebolledo. I do, was Haas's answer. Only swine behave like that, said the inspector. In Europe we're all swine, answered Haas.

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RBolano 2666 (adam.bredenberg@gmail.com) - Highlight Loc. 10962-66 | Added on Saturday, August 04, 2012, 07:39 PM

He didn't look sharp, but Lalo guessed he was by the way he answered the questions the inspectors asked him. And he seemed to have endless stores of energy, too, making the men who were shut in the soundproof room with him sweat and lose their patience as they swore friendship or understanding and told him to talk, unburden yourself, in Mexico there's no death penalty, get it off your chest, and then hit him and insulted him. But Haas was unwearying and he appeared to escape reality (or try to make the inspectors lose their grip on it) with unexpected remarks and incoherent questions.

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RBolano 2666 (adam.bredenberg@gmail.com) - Highlight Loc. 10980-85 | Added on Saturday, August 04, 2012, 07:40 PM

Don't cover your head, he said aloud and in a booming voice, you're still going to die. And who's going to kill me, you gringo son of a bitch? You? Not me, motherfucker, said Haas, a giant is coming and the giant is going to kill you. A giant? asked the rancher. You heard me right, motherfucker, said Haas. A giant. A big man, very big, and he's going to kill you and everybody else. You crazy-ass gringo son of a bitch, said the rancher. For a moment no one said anything and the rancher seemed to fall asleep again. A little while later, however, Haas called out to say he heard footsteps. The giant was coming. He was covered in blood from head to toe and he was coming now. The mercantile lawyer woke up and asked what they were talking about. His voice was soft, sharp, and frightened. Our friend here has lost his mind, said the rancher's voice.

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RBolano 2666 (adam.bredenberg@gmail.com) - Note Loc. 10985 | Added on Saturday, August 04, 2012, 07:41 PM

or he is an artist

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RBolano 2666 (adam.bredenberg@gmail.com) - Highlight Loc. 11038-41 | Added on Saturday, August 04, 2012, 07:50 PM

Discipline, motherfucker, all I ask for is a little discipline and respect, said Haas as he stepped into the line of stalls. Then he kneeled behind El Anillo, whispered to him to spread his legs, and pushed in the shiv slowly all the way to the handle. Some could see that every so often El Anillo choked back a little cry. Others could see the very dark drops of blood fall, drops that dissolved in the water in seconds.

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RBolano 2666 (adam.bredenberg@gmail.com) - Highlight Loc. 11050 | Added on Saturday, August 04, 2012, 07:52 PM

Lee Iacocca

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RBolano 2666 (adam.bredenberg@gmail.com) - Highlight Loc. 11072-74 | Added on Saturday, August 04, 2012, 07:57 PM

When Haas moved into the cell he thought it wouldn't be long before Farfan picked a fight with him, but not only did Farfan not pick a fight, he seemed lost in a kind of labyrinth where all the prisoners were insubstantial figures.

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RBolano 2666 (adam.bredenberg@gmail.com) - Note Loc. 11085 | Added on Saturday, August 04, 2012, 08:14 PM

interesting angle on rape

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RBolano 2666 (adam.bredenberg@gmail.com) - Highlight Loc. 11099-107 | Added on Saturday, August 04, 2012, 08:18 PM

There, unable to retreat, he lifted his arms, as if beseeching the heavens (which were as dark as the abyss), and tried to say something to a legion of miniature Klaus Haases, speak to them, warn them, impart advice, but he realized, or for an instant he had the impression, that someone had sewn his lips shut. And yet he could feel something inside his mouth. Not his tongue, not his teeth. A piece of flesh that he tried not to swallow as with one hand he ripped out the threads. Blood ran down his chin. His gums were numb. When at last he could open his mouth he spat out the piece of flesh and then he got on his knees in the dark and searched for it. When he found it, after feeling it carefully, he realized it was a penis. Alarmed, he put his hand to his crotch, afraid his own penis would be gone, but it was there, so the penis in his hands was someone else's. Whose? he wondered as blood kept dripping from his lips. Then he felt very tired and curled up on the edge of the abyss and fell asleep. More dreams usually followed. Raping

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RBolano 2666 (adam.bredenberg@gmail.com) - Highlight Loc. 11114-17 | Added on Saturday, August 04, 2012, 08:19 PM

He said that when he was interrogated he had been given "strange substances" to break his will. He didn't remember having signed anything, any self-incriminating statement, but he indicated that if he had it had been achieved after four days of physical, psychological, and "medical" torture. He warned the reporters that "things" were happening in Santa Teresa that would prove he wasn't the killer.

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RBolano 2666 (adam.bredenberg@gmail.com) - Highlight Loc. 11121-23 | Added on Saturday, August 04, 2012, 08:19 PM

It's finished business, he said, I'm not sure I understand why you're interested. Sergio Gonzalez didn't really understand either. Was it simply morbid fascination, or was it perhaps the certainty that in Mexico nothing was ever finished business?

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RBolano 2666 (adam.bredenberg@gmail.com) - Highlight Loc. 11142-50 | Added on Saturday, August 04, 2012, 08:21 PM

What was it, then? I asked an inmate. I asked him what he thought about the dead women, the dead girls. He looked at me and said they were whores. So in other words, they deserved to die? I asked. No, said the inmate. They deserved to be fucked as many times as anyone wanted to fuck them, but they didn't deserve to die. Then I asked him if he thought I had killed them and the bastard said no, not you, gringo, as if I was a fucking gringo, which inside maybe I am, although I'm becoming less and less of one. What are you trying to say to me? asked Sergio Gonzalez. That here in prison they know I'm innocent, said Haas. And how do they know it? asked Haas. That was a little harder for me to figure out. It's like a noise you hear in a dream. The dream, like everything dreamed in enclosed spaces, is contagious. Suddenly someone dreams it and after a while half the prisoners dream it. But the noise you hear isn't part of the dream, it's real. The noise belongs to a separate order of things. Do you understand? First someone and then everyone hears a noise in a dream, but the noise is from real life, not the dream. The noise is real. Do you understand? Is that clear to you, Senor Reporter?

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RBolano 2666 (adam.bredenberg@gmail.com) - Note Loc. 11197 | Added on Saturday, August 04, 2012, 08:28 PM

why this story?

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RBolano 2666 (adam.bredenberg@gmail.com) - Highlight Loc. 11206-8 | Added on Saturday, August 04, 2012, 08:31 PM

the cause of death was a fracture of the hyoid bone. She was dressed in a gray rock band sweatshirt with a white bra underneath. And yet, her right breast had been severed and the nipple of her left breast bitten off.

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RBolano 2666 (adam.bredenberg@gmail.com) - Note Loc. 11208 | Added on Saturday, August 04, 2012, 08:32 PM

second case of death caused by fracture this bone

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RBolano 2666 (adam.bredenberg@gmail.com) - Note Loc. 11214 | Added on Saturday, August 04, 2012, 08:34 PM

this is a strange one. probably isolated.

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RBolano 2666 (adam.bredenberg@gmail.com) - Note Loc. 11217 | Added on Saturday, August 04, 2012, 08:35 PM

chaos

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RBolano 2666 (adam.bredenberg@gmail.com) - Note Loc. 11218 | Added on Saturday, August 04, 2012, 08:36 PM

...or not. very suspicious. why and how? again only the reader could solve it.

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RBolano 2666 (adam.bredenberg@gmail.com) - Highlight Loc. 11222-23 | Added on Saturday, August 04, 2012, 08:39 PM

The cause of death was a gash that sliced her open from navel to chest, presumably inflicted with a machete or big knife.

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RBolano 2666 (adam.bredenberg@gmail.com) - Highlight Loc. 11246-47 | Added on Saturday, August 04, 2012, 08:40 PM

hands were tied behind her back and a little later someone noticed that the rope was knotted the same way as the rope that had bound Estrella Ruiz Sandoval, which made some policemen smile.

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RBolano 2666 (adam.bredenberg@gmail.com) - Highlight Loc. 11248-50 | Added on Saturday, August 04, 2012, 08:41 PM

The latter pointed out that the knots weren't the only strange coincidence, and that in fact another crime had been committed in a field next to the Morelos Preparatory School.

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RBolano 2666 (adam.bredenberg@gmail.com) - Note Loc. 11299 | Added on Saturday, August 04, 2012, 08:45 PM

another isolated incident, probably

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RBolano 2666 (adam.bredenberg@gmail.com) - Highlight Loc. 11306-7 | Added on Saturday, August 04, 2012, 08:49 PM

In the biggest bedroom they found the body of Ema Contreras, her hands and feet bound. She had been shot four times, and two of the shots had destroyed her face.

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RBolano 2666 (adam.bredenberg@gmail.com) - Note Loc. 11329 | Added on Saturday, August 04, 2012, 08:53 PM

this could be a trick. after all, wasnt it noted that the placement of the second victim was illogical? haas is certanly capableof havng people killed.

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RBolano 2666 (adam.bredenberg@gmail.com) - Note Loc. 11347 | Added on Saturday, August 04, 2012, 08:56 PM

strange... given haass collection of large knives

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RBolano 2666 (adam.bredenberg@gmail.com) - Highlight Loc. 11359-60 | Added on Saturday, August 04, 2012, 08:59 PM

The dead girl was ten years old, more or less.

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RBolano 2666 (adam.bredenberg@gmail.com) - Highlight Loc. 11367 | Added on Saturday, August 04, 2012, 08:59 PM

another girl was found, this one approximately thirteen years old, strangled to death.

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RBolano 2666 (adam.bredenberg@gmail.com) - Highlight Loc. 11369-73 | Added on Saturday, August 04, 2012, 09:00 PM

According to the medical examiner, she had been dead for at least four days, which meant it was possible that both bodies had been dumped the same day. According to Juan de Dios Martinez, this was a rather odd idea, to put it mildly, because in order to leave the first body in the valley the killer would've had to park his vehicle not far from the Casas Negras highway, with the second body inside, running the risk not only that a patrol car would stop, but even that some unsuspecting persons might come by and steal it, and the same would be true if he had dumped the first body on the opposite side of the highway,

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RBolano 2666 (adam.bredenberg@gmail.com) - Highlight Loc. 11387 | Added on Saturday, August 04, 2012, 09:02 PM

But then why not dump both bodies in the same place? In the interests of verisimilitude'?

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RBolano 2666 (adam.bredenberg@gmail.com) - Highlight Loc. 11396-97 | Added on Saturday, August 04, 2012, 09:03 PM

But her death, according to the medical examiner, was caused by strangulation and a fracture of the hyoid bone.

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RBolano 2666 (adam.bredenberg@gmail.com) - Note Loc. 11400 | Added on Saturday, August 04, 2012, 09:04 PM

this might be a peregrino

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RBolano 2666 (adam.bredenberg@gmail.com) - Highlight Loc. 11403-6 | Added on Saturday, August 04, 2012, 09:05 PM

Slightly built and with long black hair, the dead girl, said some policemen, looked like the twin sister of the presumed hitchhiker found by the Cananea highway. Like the other girl, she wasn't carrying anything that might have helped to identify her. In the Santa Teresa press there was talk about the cursed sisters, and then, picking up on the police version, the ill-fated twins.

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RBolano 2666 (adam.bredenberg@gmail.com) - Highlight Loc. 11413-15 | Added on Saturday, August 04, 2012, 09:05 PM

Beverly had been vaginally and anally raped and then dressed by her killers, since her clothes, the same ones she'd been wearing when she disappeared, were entirely free of rips or holes or bullet scorch marks.

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RBolano 2666 (adam.bredenberg@gmail.com) - Highlight Loc. 11413-17 | Added on Saturday, August 04, 2012, 09:06 PM

Beverly had been vaginally and anally raped and then dressed by her killers, since her clothes, the same ones she'd been wearing when she disappeared, were entirely free of rips or holes or bullet scorch marks. The case was handled by Inspector Lino Rivera, who initiated and exhausted his inquiries by questioning her coworkers and trying to find a nonexistent boyfriend. No one combed the crime scene, nor did anyone make casts of the numerous tracks around the site.

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RBolano 2666 (adam.bredenberg@gmail.com) - Highlight Loc. 11421-22 | Added on Saturday, August 04, 2012, 09:07 PM

There was both vaginal and anal abrasion. After she was raped she had been stabbed to death.

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RBolano 2666 (adam.bredenberg@gmail.com) - Highlight Loc. 11429-30 | Added on Saturday, August 04, 2012, 09:10 PM

The station head called Reinaldo and came close to suspending him.

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RBolano 2666 (adam.bredenberg@gmail.com) - Highlight Loc. 11460-63 | Added on Saturday, August 04, 2012, 09:14 PM

The killer keeps killing and I'm locked up. That's an incontrovertible fact. Someone should consider that and draw conclusions. That same night, in bed in his cell, Haas said: the killer is on the outside and I'm on the inside. But someone worse than me and worse than the killer is coming to this motherfucking city. Do you hear his footsteps getting closer? Do you hear them? Shut the fuck up, guero, said Farfan from his cot. Haas was quiet.

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RBolano 2666 (adam.bredenberg@gmail.com) - Highlight Loc. 11467-68 | Added on Saturday, August 04, 2012, 09:16 PM

When the police visited the offices of Dutch&Rhodes, it turned out that Sagrario Baeza Lopez was alive. Upon being questioned, she stated that she didn't know the dead woman, had never even seen her before. She'd lost her card at least six months ago.

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RBolano 2666 (adam.bredenberg@gmail.com) - Note Loc. 11475 | Added on Saturday, August 04, 2012, 09:18 PM

someone who like dressing the deat women? why?

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RBolano 2666 (adam.bredenberg@gmail.com) - Highlight Loc. 11477-79 | Added on Saturday, August 04, 2012, 09:19 PM

The cause of death, however, was strangulation and a fracture of the hyoid bone. The body was found in the desert, some fifty yards from a secondary road that headed east, toward the mountains, in a place where it wasn't unusual to see small drug planes land.

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RBolano 2666 (adam.bredenberg@gmail.com) - Note Loc. 11485 | Added on Saturday, August 04, 2012, 09:21 PM

heh

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RBolano 2666 (adam.bredenberg@gmail.com) - Note Loc. 11492 | Added on Saturday, August 04, 2012, 09:23 PM

this is potentially very important. the rectors son is sketch.

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RBolano 2666 (adam.bredenberg@gmail.com) - Highlight Loc. 11504-7 | Added on Saturday, August 04, 2012, 09:27 PM

But a fax from the Mexico City Police Identification Bureau informed them that Paulina's real name was Paula Sanchez Garces. Her record showed that she had been arrested several times for prostitution, a line of work she seemed to have pursued from the age of fifteen. According to her friends at El Pelicano, the victim had recently fallen in love with a client, a man they knew only by his first name, and she was planning to leave Centeno to live with him. The search for Centeno was fruitless.

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RBolano 2666 (adam.bredenberg@gmail.com) - Highlight Loc. 11512-14 | Added on Saturday, August 04, 2012, 09:29 PM

After vaginal and anal swabs were taken, it was concluded that the victim had been raped. Later, one of the medical examiner's assistants discovered that the shoes the victim was wearing were at least two sizes too big for her. No identification of any kind was found, and the case was closed.

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RBolano 2666 (adam.bredenberg@gmail.com) - Bookmark Loc. 11524 | Added on Saturday, August 04, 2012, 09:30 PM

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RBolano 2666 (adam.bredenberg@gmail.com) - Highlight Loc. 11516-17 | Added on Saturday, August 04, 2012, 11:11 PM

Later the medical examiner would count twenty-seven, superficial and severe. The day after the discovery of

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RBolano 2666 (adam.bredenberg@gmail.com) - Highlight Loc. 11524-31 | Added on Saturday, August 04, 2012, 11:13 PM

That was how he learned that a man named Arturo Olivarez had been abandoned by his wife. The strange thing was that the woman hadn't taken her children, a two-year-old boy and a girl just a few months old. While they were following other leads, Epifanio asked the ex-cop shopkeeper to keep him informed of Olivarez's movements. This led to the discovery that the suspect was occasionally visited by a man by the name of Segovia, who turned out to be a first cousin of Olivarez. Segovia lived in a neighborhood on the west side of Santa Teresa and had no known occupation. Until a month ago, he had hardly ever been seen in Colonia Maytorena. Segovia was put under surveillance and witnesses were found who said they had seen him come home with bloodstains on his shirt.

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RBolano 2666 (adam.bredenberg@gmail.com) - Note Loc. 11557 | Added on Saturday, August 04, 2012, 11:19 PM

very strange extension of the pathology of the crimes.

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RBolano 2666 (adam.bredenberg@gmail.com) - Highlight Loc. 11581-84 | Added on Saturday, August 04, 2012, 11:25 PM

The director of the Santa Teresa psychiatric center would have liked to ask Juan de Dios Martinez more about the crimes, but she knew that doing so would only deepen the relationship, lead them, together, into a locked room to which she alone held the key. Sometimes Elvira Campos thought it would be best to leave Mexico. Or kill herself before she turned fifty-five. Maybe fifty-six?

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RBolano 2666 (adam.bredenberg@gmail.com) - Highlight Loc. 11589-92 | Added on Saturday, August 04, 2012, 11:26 PM

Those studies were carried out by three students of forensic medicine at the University of Santa Teresa, and their conclusions were filed and then lost. The victim was between fifteen and sixteen years old. She was never identified.

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RBolano 2666 (adam.bredenberg@gmail.com) - Highlight Loc. 11597-99 | Added on Saturday, August 04, 2012, 11:27 PM

According to the forensic scientist, the victim's hyoid bone was fractured, which meant she had been strangled to death. Before that she had been subjected to sexual abuses that included anal and vaginal rape. The missing person reports were checked and the dead woman turned out to be Guadalupe Elena Blanco.

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RBolano 2666 (adam.bredenberg@gmail.com) - Highlight Loc. 11632-38 | Added on Saturday, August 04, 2012, 11:36 PM

Waiting there were Chimal's friends, four men and a woman, in a black Peregrino they had just stolen. Linda knew the woman and two of the men. They talked about the concert. They smoked pot. Linda smoked too. They talked about an abandoned house near a farming cooperative where no farmworkers lived anymore. One of the boys suggested they go there. Linda refused. Someone complained about something Linda had done. Someone accused her of something. Linda wanted to leave but Chimal wouldn't let her. He asked her to get in the car and make love. Linda didn't want to. Then Chimal and the others started to hit her. After that, so she wouldn't say anything to her parents, they knifed her. That same night, thanks to the information supplied by Chimal, the others were arrested, except for one who, according to his parents, had fled Santa Teresa a few hours after the crime. All of those arrested pleaded guilty.

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RBolano 2666 (adam.bredenberg@gmail.com) - Highlight Loc. 11643 | Added on Saturday, August 04, 2012, 11:38 PM

Two days before, she had been kidnapped by seventeen men from her apartment above the nightclub.

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RBolano 2666 (adam.bredenberg@gmail.com) - Bookmark Loc. 11650 | Added on Saturday, August 04, 2012, 11:40 PM

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RBolano 2666 (adam.bredenberg@gmail.com) - Highlight Loc. 11649-51 | Added on Saturday, August 04, 2012, 11:40 PM

Her body was discovered behind Secondary School 30, in Colonia Felix Gomez, a few yards from the state judicial police building. She was dark, long haired, slightly built, five foot two. She was wearing the same clothes she'd had on at the moment of her disappearance: yellow shorts, white blouse, white socks, and black shoes.

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RBolano 2666 (adam.bredenberg@gmail.com) - Highlight Loc. 11654-57 | Added on Saturday, August 04, 2012, 11:41 PM

On August 15, the body of Angelica Nevares, twenty-three, was found near a sewage ditch west of General Sepulveda industrial park. Angelica Nevares, better known as Jessica, lived in Colonia Plata and was a dancer at the nightclub Mi Casita. She had also worked as a dancer at the nightclub Los Heroes del Norte, whose owner, Marisol Camarena, had been found not long ago in a drum of acid.

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RBolano 2666 (adam.bredenberg@gmail.com) - Highlight Loc. 11668-69 | Added on Saturday, August 04, 2012, 11:42 PM

They also said she liked to write and that an Hermosillo literary magazine had published some of her poems under a pseudonym.

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RBolano 2666 (adam.bredenberg@gmail.com) - Highlight Loc. 11672-73 | Added on Saturday, August 04, 2012, 11:43 PM

In the letter it said: all those dead girls. It was a heartfelt letter, thought Juan de Dios, and also slightly sappy. In the letter it said: I can't take it anymore. It also said: I try to make a life for myself, like everyone, but how?

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RBolano 2666 (adam.bredenberg@gmail.com) - Highlight Loc. 11681-87 | Added on Saturday, August 04, 2012, 11:44 PM

Except for a white blouse, she was naked, wrapped in an old yellow blanket printed with black and red elephants. After the forensic examination, it was established that death had been caused by two stab wounds to the neck and another very near the right auricle. In their first statement, the police said she hadn't been raped. Four days later, they issued a correction and said she had been raped. The medical examiner in charge of conducting the autopsy declared to the press that they, the team of police and university pathologists, had never had the slightest doubt she'd been raped, and they had made this clear in the first (and only) official report. The police spokesperson reported that the misunderstanding was due to a problem in the interpretation of said report.

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RBolano 2666 (adam.bredenberg@gmail.com) - Highlight Loc. 11694-95 | Added on Saturday, August 04, 2012, 11:45 PM

The next dead woman was Adela Garcia Ceballos, twenty, a worker at the maquiladora Dun-Corp., stabbed to death in her parents' house.

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RBolano 2666 (adam.bredenberg@gmail.com) - Note Loc. 11694 | Added on Saturday, August 04, 2012, 11:47 PM

this is about whereit really ht me that this is/was actually happening

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RBolano 2666 (adam.bredenberg@gmail.com) - Note Loc. 11694 | Added on Saturday, August 04, 2012, 11:48 PM

this is about whereit really ht me that this is/was actually happening. in a way it i as, if not more, horrific as the holocaust... not in terms of numbers but in terms of psychology. there it was a caseof failure to say no. here it was a caseof deliberately disregarding ethics

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RBolano 2666 (adam.bredenberg@gmail.com) - Highlight Loc. 11700-11706 | Added on Saturday, August 04, 2012, 11:50 PM

The policemen laughed and jumped back. One of them stepped up on the bed and Bustos tried to stab the soles of his feet through the mattress. Another cop, a man by the name of Cordero, famous at Precinct #3 for the size of his dick, began to urinate, aiming straight under the bed. Seeing the urine running along the floor toward him, Bustos started to sob. Finally Ortiz Rebolledo got tired of laughing and told him that if he didn't come out they would kill him right there. The policemen watched as he crawled out, a wreck, and they dragged him into the kitchen. There one of them filled a pot with water and dumped it over him. Ortiz Rebolledo grabbed Cordero by the neck and warned him that if the slightest trace of piss smell lingered in his car he would be sorry.

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RBolano 2666 (adam.bredenberg@gmail.com) - Highlight Loc. 11712-16 | Added on Saturday, August 04, 2012, 11:52 PM

What was it the teacher couldn't stand anymore? asked Elvira Campos. Life in Santa Teresa? The deaths in Santa Teresa? The underage girls who died without anyone doing anything to stop it? Would that be enough to drive a young woman to suicide? Would a college student have killed herself for that? Would a peasant girl who'd had to work hard to become a teacher have killed herself for that? One in a thousand? One in one hundred thousand? One in a million? One in one hundred million Mexicans?

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RBolano 2666 (adam.bredenberg@gmail.com) - Highlight Loc. 11717-21 | Added on Saturday, August 04, 2012, 11:52 PM

In September there were almost no killings of women. There were fights. There were drug deals and arrests. There were parties and long hot nights. There were trucks loaded with cocaine crossing the desert. There were Cessna planes flying low over the desert like the spirits of Catholic Indians ready to slit everyone's throats. There were whispered conversations and laughter and narcocorridos as background music. On the last day of September, however, the bodies of two women were found near Pueblo Azul.

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RBolano 2666 (adam.bredenberg@gmail.com) - Highlight Loc. 11726-29 | Added on Sunday, August 05, 2012, 08:24 PM

Maybe they had liquidity problems, maybe they got cocky (according to the Tucson police, Lola was a woman to be reckoned with), maybe their suppliers came looking for them, showed up at night and found them on their way to bed, maybe they crossed the border with their victims and killed them when they got to Sonora, or maybe they killed them in Arizona, two shots each to the head, the women still half asleep, and then crossed the border and left them near Pueblo Azul.

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RBolano 2666 (adam.bredenberg@gmail.com) - Highlight Loc. 11734-35 | Added on Sunday, August 05, 2012, 08:27 PM

When the forensic report finally arrived (the cause of death probably some kind of stab wound), everyone had forgotten the case, even the media, and the body was tossed without further ado into the public grave.

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RBolano 2666 (adam.bredenberg@gmail.com) - Highlight Loc. 11740-42 | Added on Sunday, August 05, 2012, 08:30 PM

There was something terrifying about it, and also stirring. The prisoners didn't discuss it directly, but somehow they alluded to it when they talked about soccer or baseball. About their families. About bars and whores who existed only in their imagination.

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RBolano 2666 (adam.bredenberg@gmail.com) - Highlight Loc. 11758-60 | Added on Sunday, August 05, 2012, 08:32 PM

An inmate by the name of Ayala went up to the naked Caciques and slit their scrotums. The prisoners who were holding the Caciques immobile grew tense. Electricity, thought Haas, pure life force. Ayala seemed to milk the two Caciques until their balls dropped, encased in fat, blood, and something crystalline he couldn't identify (and didn't want to identify).

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RBolano 2666 (adam.bredenberg@gmail.com) - Highlight Loc. 11774-75 | Added on Sunday, August 05, 2012, 08:37 PM

According to the eyewitnesses, a black Suburban pulled up near the women. Inside there were at least three men. Music was blasting from the Suburban's speakers.

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RBolano 2666 (adam.bredenberg@gmail.com) - Highlight Loc. 11787-88 | Added on Sunday, August 05, 2012, 08:40 PM

Later they were joined by a fourth person, a tall, thin man in a white shirt, with whom they drank for a while, and then they left in a bright red Dodge.

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RBolano 2666 (adam.bredenberg@gmail.com) - Highlight Loc. 11784-85 | Added on Sunday, August 05, 2012, 08:41 PM

According to one of Epifanio Galindo's informers, three men showed up at the bar Los Zancudos an hour after Maria Sandra's murder.

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RBolano 2666 (adam.bredenberg@gmail.com) - Highlight Loc. 11790-92 | Added on Sunday, August 05, 2012, 08:41 PM

They probably killed the poor thing with a Skorpion submachine gun, Czech made, thought Epifanio, a weapon he didn't like, though some models had begun to be seen regularly in Santa Teresa, especially among the small groups involved in drug trafficking or among kidnappers out of Sinaloa.

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RBolano 2666 (adam.bredenberg@gmail.com) - Highlight Loc. 11799-810 | Added on Sunday, August 05, 2012, 08:55 PM

When his lawyer came to see him at noon, Haas told her he had witnessed the killing of the Caciques. The whole cell block was there, said Haas. The guards watched from a kind of skylight on the floor above. They took pictures. No one did anything. The Caciques got reamed. Their assholes were shredded. Are those bad words? asked Haas. Chimal, the leader, was screaming for them to kill him. They splashed him with water five times to wake him up. The executioners stood aside so the guards could take good pictures. They stood aside and moved the spectators aside. I wasn't in the first row. I could see it all because I'm tall. Strange: it didn't turn my stomach. Strange, very strange: I watched all the way to the end. The executioner seemed happy. His name is Ayala. He was helped by another man, an ugly guy who's in my cell, named Farfan. Farfan's lover, Gomez, also took part. I don't know who killed the Caciques they found later in the bathroom, but the first four were killed by Ayala, Farfan, and Gomez, with the help of another six men who held them down. Maybe there were more. Scratch six, make it twelve. And all of us from the cell block who watched the action and didn't do anything. And you think, asked the lawyer, that they don't know all this on the outside? Oh, Klaus, you're so naïve. No, just stupid, said Haas. But if they know, why don't they say anything? Because people are discreet, Klaus, said the lawyer. The reporters too? asked Haas. They're the most discreet of all, said the lawyer. For them, discretion equals money. Discretion is money? asked Haas.

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RBolano 2666 (adam.bredenberg@gmail.com) - Highlight Loc. 11815-17 | Added on Sunday, August 05, 2012, 08:56 PM

She was found with her pants down around her knees, by which it was assumed that she'd been raped, although after a vaginal swab was taken this hypothesis was discarded. Five days later the dead woman was identified. She was Luisa Cardona Pardo, thirty-four, from the state of Sinaloa, where she had worked as a prostitute from the age of seventeen.

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RBolano 2666 (adam.bredenberg@gmail.com) - Highlight Loc. 11830-31 | Added on Sunday, August 05, 2012, 08:57 PM

After a while, when Ordonez was getting bored, Lalo Cura told him that the killer or killers had disposed of the body in that particular spot so it would be found as soon as possible.

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RBolano 2666 (adam.bredenberg@gmail.com) - Highlight Loc. 11868-69 | Added on Sunday, August 05, 2012, 09:07 PM

At MachenCorp. she was told that personal calls were forbidden and the operator hung up on her.

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RBolano 2666 (adam.bredenberg@gmail.com) - Note Loc. 11876 | Added on Sunday, August 05, 2012, 09:09 PM

latin american identity

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RBolano 2666 (adam.bredenberg@gmail.com) - Highlight Loc. 11884-85 | Added on Sunday, August 05, 2012, 09:12 PM

With the information they got from the girls, the inspector said the car to look for was a black Peregrino or Arquero.

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RBolano 2666 (adam.bredenberg@gmail.com) - Note Loc. 11867 | Added on Sunday, August 05, 2012, 09:14 PM

boldness. they dont careif the car is seen. maybe they want it to be seen.

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RBolano 2666 (adam.bredenberg@gmail.com) - Highlight Loc. 11918-22 | Added on Sunday, August 05, 2012, 09:24 PM

Three days had gone by when Juan de Dios Martinez learned that the team assigned to find the black car used in the kidnapping had been disbanded. When he went to demand an explanation from Ortiz Rebolledo he was told that the order came from above. It seemed the police had fallen afoul of some big fish whose sons, the Jrs. of Santa Teresa, owned almost the entire fleet of the city's Peregrines (it was a car of choice for rich kids, like the Arcangel or Desertwind convertible), and they pulled strings to get the cops to stop fucking with them.

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RBolano 2666 (adam.bredenberg@gmail.com) - Note Loc. 11947 | Added on Sunday, August 05, 2012, 09:27 PM

immitation of methodology of murders... memetic violence

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RBolano 2666 (adam.bredenberg@gmail.com) - Highlight Loc. 11977-81 | Added on Sunday, August 05, 2012, 09:39 PM

Inquiries at the bank revealed that Javier Ramos had made a couple of big deposits, enough to cover six months of rent as well as the electricity and hot water bills, and no one had seen him since. a curious bit of information, worth filing away for future reference, was turned up at the Property Registration Office by Juan de Dios Martinez, namely that the houses on the next block of Calle Garcia Herrero belonged, in their entirety, to Pedro Rengifo, and the houses on Calle Tablada, which ran parallel to Garcia Herrero, were the property of someone called Lorenzo Juan Hinojosa, who was a straw man for the narco Estanislao Campuzano.

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RBolano 2666 (adam.bredenberg@gmail.com) - Highlight Loc. 11981-85 | Added on Sunday, August 05, 2012, 09:39 PM

In addition, all the buildings on Calle Hortensia and Calle Licenciado Cabezas, parallel to Tablada, were registered in the name of the mayor of Santa Teresa or one or another of his children. Also: two blocks to the north, the houses and buildings on Calle Ingeniero Guillermo Ortiz were the property of Pablo Negrete, brother of Pedro Negrete and distinguished rector of the University of Santa Teresa.

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RBolano 2666 (adam.bredenberg@gmail.com) - Note Loc. 11984 | Added on Sunday, August 05, 2012, 09:42 PM

sodm up in this bitch

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RBolano 2666 (adam.bredenberg@gmail.com) - Highlight Loc. 11986-88 | Added on Sunday, August 05, 2012, 09:42 PM

Rengifo was the good drug lord. Campuzano was the bad drug lord. Odd, genuinely odd, Juan de Dios said to himself. No one rapes and kills on his own property. No one rapes and kills near his own property. Unless he's crazy and wants to be caught.

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RBolano 2666 (adam.bredenberg@gmail.com) - Note Loc. 11992 | Added on Sunday, August 05, 2012, 09:43 PM

what occuredat this meeting?

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RBolano 2666 (adam.bredenberg@gmail.com) - Note Loc. 12003 | Added on Sunday, August 05, 2012, 09:45 PM

character

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RBolano 2666 (adam.bredenberg@gmail.com) - Highlight Loc. 12038-43 | Added on Sunday, August 05, 2012, 09:50 PM

The general begged to differ: according to him, pornography had reached its fullest flowering slightly before the French Revolution. Everything you might see today in a film from the Netherlands or a collection of photographs or a dirty book had already been set before the year 1789, and for the most part was a repetition, a filip on an already-gazing gaze. General, said Macario Lopez Santos, sometimes you talk just like Octavio Paz, you wouldn't happen to be reading him, would you? The general burst out laughing and said the only thing he'd read by Paz, and this was many years ago, was The Labyrinth of Solitude, and he hadn't understood a single word.

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RBolano 2666 (adam.bredenberg@gmail.com) - Note Loc. 12043 | Added on Sunday, August 05, 2012, 09:51 PM

guess you gotta read paz. you really should.

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RBolano 2666 (adam.bredenberg@gmail.com) - Highlight Loc. 12047-49 | Added on Sunday, August 05, 2012, 09:52 PM

On the one hand there had never been so much corruption. To this you had to add the problem of the drug trade and the heaps of money revolving around it. The snuff industry, in this context, was just a symptom. a virulent symptom in the case of Santa Teresa, but ultimately just a symptom. The general's reply was dismissive. He said he didn't think corruption today was any worse than under past governments.

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RBolano 2666 (adam.bredenberg@gmail.com) - Note Loc. 12053 | Added on Sunday, August 05, 2012, 09:53 PM

this is the how not the why. money alone doesnt do it. you need, for lack of abetter word, 'evil'

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RBolano 2666 (adam.bredenberg@gmail.com) - Highlight Loc. 12061-63 | Added on Sunday, August 05, 2012, 09:54 PM

True, Macario, said the general, in Mexico we don't know how to be good sports. Of course, if you lose you die and if you win sometimes you die too, which makes it hard to keep up a sporting attitude, but still, the general reflected, some of us try to fight the good fight. Oh, mi general, said Macario Lopez Santos, laughing.

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RBolano 2666 (adam.bredenberg@gmail.com) - Highlight Loc. 12072-73 | Added on Sunday, August 05, 2012, 09:55 PM

During the interrogation to which they were subjected, Carlos Camilo Alonso lost all his teeth and suffered a fracture of the nasal septum, supposedly in a suicide attempt.

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RBolano 2666 (adam.bredenberg@gmail.com) - Highlight Loc. 12083-84 | Added on Sunday, August 05, 2012, 09:59 PM

Very likely, said the police, the series of killings carried out by the Bisontes were murders for hire. According to this version, Haas paid three thousand dollars for each dead woman who resembled his own victims.

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RBolano 2666 (adam.bredenberg@gmail.com) - Note Loc. 12089 | Added on Sunday, August 05, 2012, 10:00 PM

sensational bullshit. probably all of it. doesnt this sound familir...

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RBolano 2666 (adam.bredenberg@gmail.com) - Highlight Loc. 12094 | Added on Sunday, August 05, 2012, 10:01 PM

George Steiner,

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RBolano 2666 (adam.bredenberg@gmail.com) - Note Loc. 12114 | Added on Sunday, August 05, 2012, 10:03 PM

sounds like The Joker would have some words about this

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RBolano 2666 (adam.bredenberg@gmail.com) - Note Loc. 12130 | Added on Sunday, August 05, 2012, 10:06 PM

is this the dude from earlier?

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RBolano 2666 (adam.bredenberg@gmail.com) - Highlight Loc. 12203-6 | Added on Sunday, August 05, 2012, 10:15 PM

No one could say why, but word spread that the actress had died while Epstein's film was being shot, and a little later it was rumored, although it must be emphasized that no one took this seriously, that Epstein and his troupe had killed her. According to this last version Epstein wanted to film a real murder and to that end he had selected, with the acquiescence of the other actors and the crew—everyone, at the peak of the madness, immersed in satanic rituals—the least well-known and most defenseless actress in the cast.

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RBolano 2666 (adam.bredenberg@gmail.com) - Highlight Loc. 12213-18 | Added on Sunday, August 05, 2012, 10:16 PM

Clarissa, his wife, stayed in Buenos Aires, where she moved in with an Argentinean movie producer. Her new companion, a Peronist, later became an active member of a death squad that began by killing Trotskyites and guerrillas and ended up orchestrating the disappearance of children and housewives. During the military dictatorship Clarissa returned to the United States. a year later, while he was shooting what would be his last film (his name doesn't appear in the credits), Epstein was killed when he fell down an elevator shaft. After a fall of fourteen flights, the state of the body, according to witnesses, was indescribable.

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RBolano 2666 (adam.bredenberg@gmail.com) - Highlight Loc. 12198 | Added on Sunday, August 05, 2012, 10:17 PM

At least, he said to himself, I've met the woman of my dreams.

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RBolano 2666 (adam.bredenberg@gmail.com) - Highlight Loc. 12228-29 | Added on Sunday, August 05, 2012, 10:18 PM

Later a new autopsy was performed and there was confirmation of the cranial trauma and hematomas, as well as of the ecchymosis of the neck and the fracture of the hyoid.

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RBolano 2666 (adam.bredenberg@gmail.com) - Highlight Loc. 12240-41 | Added on Sunday, August 05, 2012, 10:32 PM

Three were transferred to juvenile court and the other five ended up being held in the Santa Teresa penitentiary, although there was no conclusive evidence against them.

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RBolano 2666 (adam.bredenberg@gmail.com) - Note Loc. 12251 | Added on Sunday, August 05, 2012, 10:34 PM

police attitudes about women make examintion difficult.

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RBolano 2666 (adam.bredenberg@gmail.com) - Highlight Loc. 12261-63 | Added on Sunday, August 05, 2012, 10:35 PM

According to the medical examiner, the right breast had been mutilated and the nipple of the left breast had been torn off, probably bitten or cut with a knife, though the putrefaction of the body made it impossible to say for sure. The official cause of death: fracture of the hyoid.

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RBolano 2666 (adam.bredenberg@gmail.com) - Highlight Loc. 12281-83 | Added on Sunday, August 05, 2012, 10:39 PM

According to the medical examiner, the victim was a young woman with a fractured hyoid. She wasn't wearing clothes or shoes or anything that might have helped to identify her. Either they carried the naked body here or they stripped her before they buried her, said Epifanio.

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RBolano 2666 (adam.bredenberg@gmail.com) - Highlight Loc. 12286-88 | Added on Sunday, August 05, 2012, 10:40 PM

The body exhibited multiple stab wounds to the abdomen, abrasions to the wrists and ankles, and marks around the neck, as well as trauma to the head produced by a blunt object, possibly a hammer or a stone.

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RBolano 2666 (adam.bredenberg@gmail.com) - Note Loc. 12301 | Added on Sunday, August 05, 2012, 10:43 PM

note that his lunacy is relative. only he actually tries.

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RBolano 2666 (adam.bredenberg@gmail.com) - Highlight Loc. 12314-15 | Added on Sunday, August 05, 2012, 10:45 PM

Not reading, it might be said, was the highest expression of atheism or at least of atheism as he conceived of it. If you don't believe in God, how do you believe in a fucking book? he asked himself.

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RBolano 2666 (adam.bredenberg@gmail.com) - Note Loc. 12347 | Added on Sunday, August 05, 2012, 10:50 PM

what kindo perspective is being used here? suggests the author is an investigator.

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RBolano 2666 (adam.bredenberg@gmail.com) - Note Loc. 12380 | Added on Sunday, August 05, 2012, 10:55 PM

ironically, very bad jokes. a belabored point prhaps but these are the mn whosejob it is to examine the bodies o the dead womn

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RBolano 2666 (adam.bredenberg@gmail.com) - Note Loc. 12389 | Added on Sunday, August 05, 2012, 10:57 PM

id

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RBolano 2666 (adam.bredenberg@gmail.com) - Highlight Loc. 12475-76 | Added on Sunday, August 05, 2012, 11:06 PM

They talked, for example, about a new revolution, an invisible revolution that was already brewing but wouldn't hit the streets for at least fifty years. Or five hundred. Or five thousand.

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RBolano 2666 (adam.bredenberg@gmail.com) - Highlight Loc. 12489-93 | Added on Sunday, August 05, 2012, 11:07 PM

Living in this desert, thought Lalo Cura as the car, with Epifanio at the wheel, left the field behind, is like living at sea. The border between Sonora and Arizona is a chain of haunted or enchanted islands. The cities and towns are boats. The desert is an endless sea. This is a good place for fish, especially deep-sea fish, not men.

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RBolano 2666 (adam.bredenberg@gmail.com) - Note Loc. 12493 | Added on Sunday, August 05, 2012, 11:08 PM

long history of rae. marquezian cycles of time. motivation. he has witch blood. link to flora

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RBolano 2666 (adam.bredenberg@gmail.com) - Highlight Loc. 12509-10 | Added on Sunday, August 05, 2012, 11:11 PM

the woman had been attacked and killed where she was found.

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RBolano 2666 (adam.bredenberg@gmail.com) - Highlight Loc. 12516-17 | Added on Sunday, August 05, 2012, 11:11 PM

According to the forensic report, the autopsy had determined that death was due to severe head trauma and that she hadn't been sexually assaulted.

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RBolano 2666 (adam.bredenberg@gmail.com) - Highlight Loc. 12531-33 | Added on Sunday, August 05, 2012, 11:13 PM

Why, then? asked Sergio. Because today is the indoor soccer match between the Santa Teresa police and our boys. Are you going to play? asked Sergio. Maybe, maybe not, I'm a substitute, said Marquez. As they were leaving the locker room, the inspector told him he shouldn't try to find a logical explanation for the crimes. It's fucked up, that's the only explanation, said Marquez.

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RBolano 2666 (adam.bredenberg@gmail.com) - Highlight Loc. 12552-54 | Added on Sunday, August 05, 2012, 11:15 PM

She knows what's hidden behind the crimes and she tried to tell us, but we didn't listen, no one listens to her. She's seen the faces of the killers. If you want to know more, go and see her, and when you've seen her call me or write me. I'll do that, said Sergio.

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RBolano 2666 (adam.bredenberg@gmail.com) - Highlight Loc. 12558-59 | Added on Sunday, August 05, 2012, 11:33 PM

The luxury of memory, the luxury of knowing a language or several languages, the luxury of thinking and not running away.

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RBolano 2666 (adam.bredenberg@gmail.com) - Note Loc. 12572 | Added on Monday, August 06, 2012, 02:40 PM

this is true

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RBolano 2666 (adam.bredenberg@gmail.com) - Highlight Loc. 12572-77 | Added on Monday, August 06, 2012, 02:42 PM

Yolanda Palacio, was a woman of about thirty, fair-skinned and brown haired, formal in manner, although her formality betrayed glimpses of a yearning for happiness, a yearning for good times. But what are good times'? Sergio Gonzalez asked himself. Maybe they're what separate certain people from the rest of us, who live in a state of perpetual sadness. The will to live, the will to fight, as his father used to say, but fight what? The inevitable? Fight against whom? And what for? More time, certain knowledge, the glimpse of something essential? As if there were anything essential in this shitty country, he thought, anything essential on this whole self-sucking motherfucker of a planet.

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RBolano 2666 (adam.bredenberg@gmail.com) - Highlight Loc. 12594-95 | Added on Monday, August 06, 2012, 02:44 PM

She wasn't carrying identification. She was dressed in black pants, a green blouse, and tennis shoes. Car keys were found in one of her pockets. Her description didn't match that of any women missing from Santa Teresa.

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RBolano 2666 (adam.bredenberg@gmail.com) - Note Loc. 12590 | Added on Monday, August 06, 2012, 02:44 PM

important passage

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RBolano 2666 (adam.bredenberg@gmail.com) - Bookmark Loc. 12631 | Added on Monday, August 06, 2012, 02:49 PM

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RBolano 2666 (adam.bredenberg@gmail.com) - Note Loc. 12631 | Added on Monday, August 06, 2012, 02:50 PM

a little inside joke. the irony being that the actual laughter is hollow

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RBolano 2666 (adam.bredenberg@gmail.com) - Highlight Loc. 12656-59 | Added on Monday, August 06, 2012, 02:54 PM

God willing, the man said, so long as he was in good health he would never give up on the idea of living in the United States. Aren't you tired? asked the host. Don't you want to go back to your village or look for a job here in Tijuana? The guy smiled like he was embarrassed and said that once he had an idea in his head he couldn't get rid of it.

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RBolano 2666 (adam.bredenberg@gmail.com) - Note Loc. 12670 | Added on Monday, August 06, 2012, 02:55 PM

this

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RBolano 2666 (adam.bredenberg@gmail.com) - Highlight Loc. 12704-5 | Added on Monday, August 06, 2012, 07:21 PM

The prowler, according to this witness, was an athletic-looking young man who rang doorbells and peered in windows as if he wanted to check which houses were empty.

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RBolano 2666 (adam.bredenberg@gmail.com) - Highlight Loc. 12721-22 | Added on Monday, August 06, 2012, 07:22 PM

The semen samples sent to Hermosillo were lost, whether on the way there or the way back it wasn't clear.

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RBolano 2666 (adam.bredenberg@gmail.com) - Highlight Loc. 12760-63 | Added on Monday, August 06, 2012, 07:26 PM

Well, when these figments of mine speak among themselves, even though I don't understand their words, I can tell for a fact that their joys and sorrows are big, said Florita. How big? asked Sergio. Florita fixed him with her gaze. She opened the door. He could feel the Sonora night brushing his back like a ghost. Huge, said Florita. As if they know they're beyond the law? No, no, no, said Florita, it has nothing to do with the law.

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RBolano 2666 (adam.bredenberg@gmail.com) - Highlight Loc. 12768-69 | Added on Monday, August 06, 2012, 07:29 PM

She said she had been locked in a Suburban. She said something about a man with the face of a pig.

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RBolano 2666 (adam.bredenberg@gmail.com) - Highlight Loc. 12783-86 | Added on Monday, August 06, 2012, 07:32 PM

According to the forensic report, the cause of death was asphyxiation, and despite the passage of time, lesions were still visible around the victim's neck. The hyoid wasn't fractured. It was likely that Aurora had been raped.

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RBolano 2666 (adam.bredenberg@gmail.com) - Highlight Loc. 12786-89 | Added on Monday, August 06, 2012, 07:33 PM

Following inquiries among the victim's acquaintances, they proceeded to arrest Jaime Pacheco, who, after being subjected to an interrogation, confessed to the crime. The motive, Ortiz Rebolledo told the press, was jealousy. Not of any man in particular, but of all the men she might have encountered or because of his new situation, which was intolerable.

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RBolano 2666 (adam.bredenberg@gmail.com) - Highlight Loc. 12807-12 | Added on Monday, August 06, 2012, 07:39 PM

On her left hand she was wearing a long black glove that reached halfway up her arm. It wasn't a cheap glove either, but a velvet one, like the kind used by the highest-class exotic dancers. When the glove was removed they found two rings, one on the middle finger, of real silver, and the other on the ring finger, worked in the shape of a snake. On her right foot she was wearing a man's sock, brand name Tracy. And most surprising of all: tied around her head, like a strange but not entirely implausible hat, was an expensive black bra. Otherwise the woman was naked and had no identification on her. After the necessary procedures, the case was shelved and her body was tossed into the public grave in the Santa Teresa cemetery.

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RBolano 2666 (adam.bredenberg@gmail.com) - Note Loc. 12812 | Added on Monday, August 06, 2012, 07:39 PM

bodies are "tossed"

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RBolano 2666 (adam.bredenberg@gmail.com) - Highlight Loc. 12827-28 | Added on Monday, August 06, 2012, 07:40 PM

The body was completely naked and showed evidence of strangulation and rape, which would later be confirmed by the medical examiner.

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RBolano 2666 (adam.bredenberg@gmail.com) - Highlight Loc. 12852-54 | Added on Monday, August 06, 2012, 07:44 PM

In September, on an empty lot in Colonia Sur, wrapped in a quilt and black plastic bags, the naked body of Maria Estela Ramos was found. Her feet were bound with a cord and she showed signs of having been tortured.

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RBolano 2666 (adam.bredenberg@gmail.com) - Highlight Loc. 12880-86 | Added on Monday, August 06, 2012, 07:53 PM

Being a criminologist in this country is like being a cryptographer at the North Pole. It's like being a child in a cell block of pedophiles. It's like being a beggar in the country of the deaf. It's like being a condom in the realm of the Amazons, said Professor Garcia Correa. If you're mistreated, you get used to it. If you're snubbed, you get used to it. If your life savings vanish, the money you were putting aside for retirement, you get used to it. If your son swindles you, you get used to it. If you have to keep working when by law you should be doing whatever you please, you get used to it. If on top of that your salary is cut, you get used to it. If you have to work for crooked lawyers and corrupt detectives to supplement your pay, you get used to it. But you'd better not put any of this in your articles, boys, because if you do, my job will be on the line, said Professor Garcia Correa.

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RBolano 2666 (adam.bredenberg@gmail.com) - Highlight Loc. 12892 | Added on Monday, August 06, 2012, 07:58 PM

Antonio Uribe,

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RBolano 2666 (adam.bredenberg@gmail.com) - Highlight Loc. 12901-3 | Added on Monday, August 06, 2012, 07:59 PM

Her arms, chest, and legs were covered with bruises and stab wounds (a policeman set out to count them and got bored when he reached thirty-five), none of which, however, had injured or pierced any vital organ.

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RBolano 2666 (adam.bredenberg@gmail.com) - Highlight Loc. 12903-4 | Added on Monday, August 06, 2012, 07:59 PM

According to the medical examiner, the cause of death was strangulation. There were bite marks on the left nipple and it was half torn off, attached by just a few strands of tissue.

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RBolano 2666 (adam.bredenberg@gmail.com) - Highlight Loc. 12970-71 | Added on Monday, August 06, 2012, 09:18 PM

The body was wrapped in an industrial plastic bag, and, according to the forensic report, the cause of death was strangulation with a fracture of the hyoid bone.

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RBolano 2666 (adam.bredenberg@gmail.com) - Highlight Loc. 12972-74 | Added on Monday, August 06, 2012, 09:19 PM

Why did the killer bother to dig a little hole and try to bury her? Lalo Cura asked himself as he poked around the site. Why not just dump her by the side of the Cananea highway or in the rubble of the old railroad warehouses? Didn't the killer notice he was leaving his victim's body next to the soccer fields?

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RBolano 2666 (adam.bredenberg@gmail.com) - Highlight Loc. 12997-99 | Added on Monday, August 06, 2012, 09:26 PM

As he did, he froze in place, stamp raised and smile stretched from ear to ear, so the photographers gathered could take their pictures at leisure. The state attorney general made a joke and everyone laughed, except for the customs officer, who didn't look happy.

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RBolano 2666 (adam.bredenberg@gmail.com) - Highlight Loc. 13029-32 | Added on Monday, August 06, 2012, 09:41 PM

Both are proteges of Fabio Izquierdo, a narco who himself works for Estanislao Campuzano. It's said that Estanislao Campuzano was Antonio's godfather. Their friends are other children of millionaires, but also Santa Teresa cops and narcos. Wherever they go they spend money like water. They are the Santa Teresa serial killers.

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RBolano 2666 (adam.bredenberg@gmail.com) - Highlight Loc. 13038-41 | Added on Monday, August 06, 2012, 09:48 PM

The bullet was a .44, probably from a revolver. There were no witnesses to the killing and the possibility that the killer might have shot from inside a moving vehicle hadn't been ruled out. Nor had the possibility that the bullet was intended for someone else. Lucia Dominguez Roa was thirty-three and separated, and she lived alone in a room in Colonia Mexico.

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RBolano 2666 (adam.bredenberg@gmail.com) - Highlight Loc. 13130-33 | Added on Monday, August 06, 2012, 10:47 PM

She was dressed in a long-sleeved dark blue T-shirt, a pink jacket with black and white vertical stripes, Levi's, a wide belt with a velvet-covered buckle, calf-length spike-heeled boots, white socks, black panties, and a white bra. Death, according to the forensic report, was due to asphyxiation caused by strangulation. There was still a three-foot-long electrical cord around her neck, doubled and knotted in the middle, that had likely been used to strangle her.

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RBolano 2666 (adam.bredenberg@gmail.com) - Highlight Loc. 13146-47 | Added on Monday, August 06, 2012, 10:50 PM

after the Cristero uprising and the marginalization when the remnants of Porfirism—in fact, the remnants of Mexican Iturbidism—were

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RBolano 2666 (adam.bredenberg@gmail.com) - Highlight Loc. 13163-64 | Added on Monday, August 06, 2012, 10:52 PM

And do you know what it means to have class? To be, in the final instance, a sovereign entity. Not to owe anything to anyone. Not to have to make explanations to anyone.

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RBolano 2666 (adam.bredenberg@gmail.com) - Highlight Loc. 13211-14 | Added on Tuesday, August 07, 2012, 01:30 AM

Near where the remains were discovered, Inspector Juan de Dios Martinez found a pair of pants, threadbare from exposure. As if the killers had removed the victim's pants before tossing her in the bushes. Or as if they had brought her up there naked, with her pants in a bag, and later discarded the pants a few yards from the body. The truth is, none of it made any sense.

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RBolano 2666 (adam.bredenberg@gmail.com) - Highlight Loc. 13231-33 | Added on Tuesday, August 07, 2012, 02:03 AM

What twisted people we are. How simple we seem, or pretend to be in front of others, and how twisted we are deep down. How paltry we are and how spectacularly we contort ourselves before our own eyes and the eyes of others, we Mexicans. And all for what? To hide what? To make people believe what?

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RBolano 2666 (adam.bredenberg@gmail.com) - Highlight Loc. 13264-66 | Added on Tuesday, August 07, 2012, 02:22 AM

Bacanora, said the policemen, and they explained that it was a drink distilled only in Sonora, from a kind of agave that grew here and nowhere else in Mexico.

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RBolano 2666 (adam.bredenberg@gmail.com) - Highlight Loc. 13287-90 | Added on Tuesday, August 07, 2012, 02:25 AM

The dead woman's name was Angelica Ochoa and, as he was told by the policemen who were cordoning off the street, it looked more like a settling of scores than a sex crime. Shortly before the crime was committed, two cops saw a couple arguing heatedly on the sidewalk, next to the club El Vaquero, but they didn't want to intervene, thinking it was a normal lovers' spat. Angelica Ochoa had been shot through the left temple, the bullet exiting her right ear.

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RBolano 2666 (adam.bredenberg@gmail.com) - Highlight Loc. 13308-12 | Added on Tuesday, August 07, 2012, 02:27 AM

After two months I left him and went off with someone else, an asshole who thought he was a revolutionary. Mexico has an abundance of these assholes. Hopelessly stupid, arrogant men, who lose their wits when they come across an Esquivel Plata, want to fuck her right away, as if the act of possessing a woman like me were the equivalent of storming the Winter Palace.

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RBolano 2666 (adam.bredenberg@gmail.com) - Highlight Loc. 13353-59 | Added on Tuesday, August 07, 2012, 02:34 AM

but then they turned down a wider street, just as desolate, where even the brush was covered with a thick layer of dust, as if an atomic bomb had dropped nearby and no one had noticed, except the victims, thought Kessler, but they didn't count because they'd lost their minds or were dead, even though they still walked and stared, their eyes and stares straight out of a Western, the stares of Indians or bad guys, of course, in other words lunatics, people living in another dimension, their gazes no longer able to touch us, we're aware of them but they don't touch us, they don't adhere to our skin, they shoot straight through us, thought Kessler as he moved to roll down the window. No, don't open it, said one of the inspectors. Why not? The smell, it smells like death. It stinks. Ten minutes later they reached the dump.

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RBolano 2666 (adam.bredenberg@gmail.com) - Highlight Loc. 13374-75 | Added on Tuesday, August 07, 2012, 02:36 AM

It just so happened that both the victim and her parents worked at the Kusai maquiladora. According to the medical examiners, the victim was raped several times before she died.

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RBolano 2666 (adam.bredenberg@gmail.com) - Note Loc. 13398 | Added on Tuesday, August 07, 2012, 02:39 AM

mexicanness... authenticity vs affectation. invisibility. nightmare. this is deep bussiness.

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RBolano 2666 (adam.bredenberg@gmail.com) - Note Loc. 13402 | Added on Tuesday, August 07, 2012, 02:40 AM

ie all people disappear

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RBolano 2666 (adam.bredenberg@gmail.com) - Highlight Loc. 13411-15 | Added on Wednesday, August 08, 2012, 12:47 AM

The police keep out of some neighborhoods, he told the mayor, who squirmed in his seat as if he'd been bitten by a snake and assumed an expression of infinite regret and infinite comprehension. The Sonora state attorney general, the assistant attorney general, the inspectors, said that the problem might be, perhaps was, could conceivably be, you might say, a problem of the city police, headed by Don Pedro Negrete, twin brother of the university rector.

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RBolano 2666 (adam.bredenberg@gmail.com) - Highlight Loc. 13440-42 | Added on Wednesday, August 08, 2012, 12:53 AM

According to the authorities, no more than five thousand people took part. According to the organizers, there had been more than sixty thousand people marching the streets of Santa Teresa. Maria Elena Torres was among them. Two days later she was knifed in her own home, stabbed through the neck so that she bled to death.

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RBolano 2666 (adam.bredenberg@gmail.com) - Highlight Loc. 13453-54 | Added on Wednesday, August 08, 2012, 12:54 AM

Later, as he was throwing up, it occurred to him that there was a logical connection between the two acts. As if one led to the other. The beating with the piece of green hose. The water gushing from the black hose. Thinking this made him feel better.

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RBolano 2666 (adam.bredenberg@gmail.com) - Highlight Loc. 13474-75 | Added on Wednesday, August 08, 2012, 12:59 AM

As you're well aware, this is a macho country full of faggots. The history of Mexico wouldn't make sense otherwise.

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RBolano 2666 (adam.bredenberg@gmail.com) - Note Loc. 13489 | Added on Wednesday, August 08, 2012, 01:06 AM

reminds me of obama

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RBolano 2666 (adam.bredenberg@gmail.com) - Highlight Loc. 13530-32 | Added on Wednesday, August 08, 2012, 01:14 AM

The body was faceup, with pants on just one leg, caught around the ankle. There were four stab wounds to the abdomen and three to the chest, as well as marks around the neck. The victim was dark-skinned with shoulder-length hair dyed black. A few yards away they found her shoes: black Converse sneakers with white laces. The rest of her clothes had disappeared.

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RBolano 2666 (adam.bredenberg@gmail.com) - Highlight Loc. 13613-14 | Added on Wednesday, August 08, 2012, 01:30 AM

Lozada. According to the medical examiner, the cause of death was a fracture of the cervical vertebrae. Or what amounted to the same thing: her neck had been snapped.

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RBolano 2666 (adam.bredenberg@gmail.com) - Note Loc. 13636 | Added on Wednesday, August 08, 2012, 01:34 AM

this name comes up elsewhere

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RBolano 2666 (adam.bredenberg@gmail.com) - Highlight Loc. 13654-57 | Added on Wednesday, August 08, 2012, 01:36 AM

the name I'd given him (he was careful not to speak it) belonged to a banker who, according to his sources, laundered money for the Santa Teresa cartel, which was like saying the Sonora cartel. All right, I said. Then he said that this banker, in fact, owned not one ranch outside the city but several, although according to his sources there hadn't been a party at any of them on the days my friend was in the area.

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RBolano 2666 (adam.bredenberg@gmail.com) - Note Loc. 13659 | Added on Wednesday, August 08, 2012, 01:38 AM

corruption

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RBolano 2666 (adam.bredenberg@gmail.com) - Highlight Loc. 13704-5 | Added on Wednesday, August 08, 2012, 01:52 AM

According to the forensic report, it was a woman, and the cause of death, due to the time elapsed, remained undetermined. Some three yards from the body a pair of leggings and a pair of tennis shoes were found.

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RBolano 2666 (adam.bredenberg@gmail.com) - Bookmark Loc. 13710 | Added on Wednesday, August 08, 2012, 01:56 AM

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RBolano 2666 (adam.bredenberg@gmail.com) - Highlight Loc. 13709-11 | Added on Wednesday, August 08, 2012, 01:57 AM

They all lied to me or said things that didn't add up. To start with, they assured me that no one had reported Kelly missing, when I knew for a fact her partner had. The name Salazar Crespo never came up. No one talked to me about the killings of women, which were public knowledge by then, let alone connected Kelly's disappearance to those shameful cases.

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RBolano 2666 (adam.bredenberg@gmail.com) - Note Loc. 13720 | Added on Wednesday, August 08, 2012, 01:59 AM

she has which critics room?

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RBolano 2666 (adam.bredenberg@gmail.com) - Highlight Loc. 13738-39 | Added on Wednesday, August 08, 2012, 02:06 AM

feminists who believed that the stance I'd taken after Kelly's disappearance was admirable and most fitting for a woman.

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RBolano 2666 (adam.bredenberg@gmail.com) - Highlight Loc. 13748-51 | Added on Wednesday, August 08, 2012, 02:07 AM

According to Loya, most of Kelly's jobs could simply be considered veiled prostitution. High-level prostitution. Her models were whores, the parties she organized were for men only, even her percentage of the take was that of a high-class madam. I told him I couldn't believe it. I flung the papers in his face. Loya bent down and picked them up and handed them back to me.

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RBolano 2666 (adam.bredenberg@gmail.com) - Highlight Loc. 13757-59 | Added on Wednesday, August 08, 2012, 10:08 PM

Another name appeared alongside that of Salazar Crespo. Conrado Padilla, a Sonora businessman with interests in a few maquiladoras, a few transport companies, and the Santa Teresa slaughterhouse.

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RBolano 2666 (adam.bredenberg@gmail.com) - Highlight Loc. 13765-68 | Added on Wednesday, August 08, 2012, 10:12 PM

In Mexico a person can be more or less dead, he answered very seriously. I stared at him, wanting to hit him. What a cold, detached man he was. No, I said, almost hissing, no one can be more or less dead, in Mexico or anywhere else in the world. Stop talking like a tour guide.

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RBolano 2666 (adam.bredenberg@gmail.com) - Highlight Loc. 13769-70 | Added on Wednesday, August 08, 2012, 10:13 PM

I'm sick of Mexicans who talk and act as if this is all Pedro Paramo, I said. Maybe it is, said Loya. No, it isn't, I can assure you, I said.

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RBolano 2666 (adam.bredenberg@gmail.com) - Highlight Loc. 13788-89 | Added on Wednesday, August 08, 2012, 10:18 PM

Can you think of anything I should ask? No, I can't, said the lawyer. To Mary-Sue it seemed as if the lawyer were talking like someone in a trance.

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RBolano 2666 (adam.bredenberg@gmail.com) - Highlight Loc. 13797-99 | Added on Wednesday, August 08, 2012, 10:19 PM

At a certain moment, as he was handling the gun, it went off and Esther was fatally wounded. By the time the ambulance arrived, the girl was dead and the shooter had disappeared.

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RBolano 2666 (adam.bredenberg@gmail.com) - Highlight Loc. 13803-5 | Added on Wednesday, August 08, 2012, 10:29 PM

Later Lalo Cura would comment to Epifanio that it was strange there hadn't been a lineup to identify the body. And it was strange, too, that the killer's companions hadn't come forward. And that the Smith & Wesson, once it was locked away in the police archives, had disappeared. And strangest of all was that a car thief should commit suicide.

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RBolano 2666 (adam.bredenberg@gmail.com) - Highlight Loc. 13812-15 | Added on Wednesday, August 08, 2012, 10:32 PM

As I learned about other cases, however, as I heard other voices, my rage began to assume what you might call mass stature, my rage became collective or the expression of something collective, my rage, when it allowed itself to show, saw itself as the instrument of vengeance of thousands of victims. Honestly, I think I was losing my mind. Those voices I heard (voices, never faces or shapes) came from the desert.

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RBolano 2666 (adam.bredenberg@gmail.com) - Highlight Loc. 13819-20 | Added on Wednesday, August 08, 2012, 10:33 PM

From his reports I learned that the parties thrown by the banker Salazar Crespo were in fact orgies and that Kelly's job had presumably been to put these orgies together.

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RBolano 2666 (adam.bredenberg@gmail.com) - Note Loc. 13825 | Added on Wednesday, August 08, 2012, 10:37 PM

like mountain castle in sodom

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RBolano 2666 (adam.bredenberg@gmail.com) - Note Loc. 13829 | Added on Wednesday, August 08, 2012, 10:39 PM

spooky

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RBolano 2666 (adam.bredenberg@gmail.com) - Note Loc. 13845 | Added on Wednesday, August 08, 2012, 10:43 PM

again. parallels to sdom. how much is this like reality?

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RBolano 2666 (adam.bredenberg@gmail.com) - Highlight Loc. 13849-52 | Added on Thursday, August 09, 2012, 01:09 PM

it was possible that she had also organized parties for Sigfrido Catalan, who owned a fleet of garbage trucks and was said to have an exclusive contract with most of the maquiladoras in Santa Teresa, and for Conrado Padilla, a businessman with interests in Sonora, Sinaloa, and Jalisco. Salazar Crespo, Sigfrido Catalan, and Padilla, according to Loya, all had connections to the Santa Teresa cartel, which meant Estanislao Campuzano, who occasionally, though not often, in truth, had attended these parties.

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RBolano 2666 (adam.bredenberg@gmail.com) - Highlight Loc. 13854-57 | Added on Thursday, August 09, 2012, 01:10 PM

Whatever the case, there were plenty of narcos at Kelly's orgies, especially two of them, considered Campuzano's lieutenants, one by the name of Munoz Otero, Sergio Munoz Otero, the boss of the Nogales narcos, and Fabio Izquierdo, who for a while was the boss of the Hermosillo narcos and later worked creating routes for the transport of drugs from Sinaloa to Santa Teresa or from Oaxaca or Michoacan or even Tamaulipas, which was the territory of the Ciudad Juarez cartel.

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RBolano 2666 (adam.bredenberg@gmail.com) - Highlight Loc. 13891-95 | Added on Thursday, August 09, 2012, 01:22 PM

On December 19, on some land near Colonia Kino, a few miles from the Gavilanes del Norte farming cooperative, the remains of a woman were found in a plastic bag. According to the police statement, she was another victim of the Bisontes gang. According to the medical examiners, the victim was between fifteen and sixteen years old, five foot two or five foot three, and it had been approximately a year since she'd been killed.

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RBolano 2666 (adam.bredenberg@gmail.com) - Highlight Loc. 13934-35 | Added on Thursday, August 09, 2012, 01:27 PM

The victim, according to the medical examiners, had been dead for a long time. She was about eighteen, five foot two and a half or three. She was naked, but a pair of good-quality leather high heels were found in the bag, which led the police to think she might be a whore.

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RBolano 2666 (adam.bredenberg@gmail.com) - Highlight Loc. 13986-87 | Added on Thursday, August 09, 2012, 01:31 PM

The one-legged man saw her too, looking out the window, and he raised a hand in a formal salute, even a stiff salute, though it could also have been interpreted as a way of saying such is life.

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RBolano 2666 (adam.bredenberg@gmail.com) - Highlight Loc. 13986-88 | Added on Thursday, August 09, 2012, 01:32 PM

The one-legged man saw her too, looking out the window, and he raised a hand in a formal salute, even a stiff salute, though it could also have been interpreted as a way of saying such is life. From that moment on he told whoever would listen that in his town everyone was blind and the one-eyed girl was a queen.

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RBolano 2666 (adam.bredenberg@gmail.com) - Highlight Loc. 13990-94 | Added on Thursday, August 09, 2012, 01:33 PM

Canetti, and Borges, too, I think—two very different men—said that just as the sea was the symbol or mirror of the English, the forest was the metaphor the Germans inhabited. Hans Reiter defied this rule from the moment he was born. He didn't like the earth, much less forests. He didn't like the sea either, or what ordinary mortals call the sea, which is really only the surface of the sea, waves kicked up by the wind that have gradually become the metaphor for defeat and madness. What he liked was the seabed, that other earth, with its plains that weren't plains and valleys that weren't valleys and cliffs that weren't cliffs.

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RBolano 2666 (adam.bredenberg@gmail.com) - Bookmark Loc. 14008 | Added on Thursday, August 09, 2012, 01:35 PM

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RBolano 2666 (adam.bredenberg@gmail.com) - Note Loc. 14007 | Added on Thursday, August 09, 2012, 01:36 PM

ineresting... the undersea is somthing like death or hell or a dream or a fantasy land.

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RBolano 2666 (adam.bredenberg@gmail.com) - Highlight Loc. 14011-12 | Added on Thursday, August 09, 2012, 01:36 PM

Hans Reiter was unsteady on his feet because he moved across the surface of the earth like a novice diver along the seafloor. He actually lived and ate and slept and played at the bottom of the sea.

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RBolano 2666 (adam.bredenberg@gmail.com) - Note Loc. 14012 | Added on Thursday, August 09, 2012, 01:37 PM

overlay of real with surreal... this is part of what infrarealism is

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RBolano 2666 (adam.bredenberg@gmail.com) - Note Loc. 14041 | Added on Thursday, August 09, 2012, 01:41 PM

his parents are both half crippled... is he half normal?

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RBolano 2666 (adam.bredenberg@gmail.com) - Note Loc. 14049 | Added on Thursday, August 09, 2012, 01:42 PM

this made me shiver

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RBolano 2666 (adam.bredenberg@gmail.com) - Note Loc. 14090 | Added on Thursday, August 09, 2012, 01:47 PM

compare to amlfitanos dads faggot talk... xenophobia or misanthropy. als sameabout reiters otherworldliness

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RBolano 2666 (adam.bredenberg@gmail.com) - Highlight Loc. 14100-14104 | Added on Thursday, August 09, 2012, 07:22 PM

Sometimes, on his way home, moving like a diver, he watched the Town of the Fat citizens wander the streets of the Village of Blue Women or the Village of Red Men and he thought that maybe the villagers, those who were ghosts now, had died at the hands of the inhabitants of the Town of the Fat, who were surely fearsome and relentless practitioners of the art of killing, no matter that they never bothered him, among other reasons because he was a diver, which is to say he didn't belong to their world, where he came only as an explorer or a visitor.

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RBolano 2666 (adam.bredenberg@gmail.com) - Highlight Loc. 14131-39 | Added on Thursday, August 09, 2012, 07:30 PM

If one was on anything like intimate terms with Vogel, his presence soon became unbearable. He believed in the intrinsic goodness of humankind, he claimed that a person who was pure of heart could walk from Moscow to Madrid without being accosted by anyone, whether beast or police officer, to say nothing of a customs official, because the traveler would take the necessary precautions, among them leaving the road from time to time and striking off across country. He was easily smitten and awkward, with the result that he didn't have a girl. Sometimes he talked, not caring who might be listening, about the healing properties of masturbation (he cited Kant as an example), to be practiced from the earliest years to the most advanced age, which mostly tended to provoke laughter in the girls from the Town of Chattering Girls who happened to hear him, and which exceedingly bored and disgusted his acquaintances in Berlin, who were already overfamiliar with this theory and who thought that Vogel, in explaining it with such stubborn zeal, was really masturbating in front of them or using them as masturbation aids. But

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RBolano 2666 (adam.bredenberg@gmail.com) - Note Loc. 14175 | Added on Thursday, August 09, 2012, 07:36 PM

is reiter driving him nuts? or i this simply th way the mans fear of madness reacts to a strangeindividual? that is, imagining the weirdnss is his own fault

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RBolano 2666 (adam.bredenberg@gmail.com) - Highlight Loc. 14204-8 | Added on Thursday, August 09, 2012, 07:41 PM

As far as Hans was concerned, his sister was the best thing that had ever happened to him, and many times he tried to draw her in the same notebook where he'd drawn different kinds of seaweed, but the results were always unsatisfactory: sometimes the baby looked like a bag of rubbish left on a pebbly beach, other times like Petrobius maritimus, a marine insect that lives in crevices and rocks and feeds on scraps, or Lipura maritima, another insect, very small and dark slate or gray, its habitat the puddles among rocks.

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RBolano 2666 (adam.bredenberg@gmail.com) - Highlight Loc. 14209-11 | Added on Thursday, August 09, 2012, 07:41 PM

In time, by stretching his imagination or his tastes or his own artistic nature, he managed to draw her as a little mermaid, more fish than girl, closer to fat than thin, but always smiling, always with an enviable tendency to smile and see the positive side of things, which was a faithful reflection of his sister's character.

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RBolano 2666 (adam.bredenberg@gmail.com) - Note Loc. 14214 | Added on Thursday, August 09, 2012, 07:42 PM

heh. subtle metaphors

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RBolano 2666 (adam.bredenberg@gmail.com) - Note Loc. 14224 | Added on Thursday, August 09, 2012, 07:46 PM

again overlay of real and surreal

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RBolano 2666 (adam.bredenberg@gmail.com) - Highlight Loc. 14251 | Added on Thursday, August 09, 2012, 07:48 PM

in addition to being swine they were sentimentalists,

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RBolano 2666 (adam.bredenberg@gmail.com) - Note Loc. 14239 | Added on Thursday, August 09, 2012, 07:49 PM

compare to junger

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RBolano 2666 (adam.bredenberg@gmail.com) - Highlight Loc. 14255-56 | Added on Thursday, August 09, 2012, 07:50 PM

as if to weigh the character of the paterfamilias by the harmony or strength of the house's lines, or as if he were tremendously interested in rustic architecture in that part of Prussia,

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RBolano 2666 (adam.bredenberg@gmail.com) - Note Loc. 14275 | Added on Thursday, August 09, 2012, 07:54 PM

watc out for this

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RBolano 2666 (adam.bredenberg@gmail.com) - Highlight Loc. 14275-80 | Added on Thursday, August 09, 2012, 07:57 PM

as the ex-pilot talked Hans Reiter's father grew more and more nervous, as if he were afraid little Lotte would start to cry at any moment, or as if all at once he had realized that he wasn't a worthy interlocutor for this lordly man, and that perhaps it would be best to throw himself at the feet of this dreamer, this centurion of the skies, and plead what was already obvious, his ignorance and poverty and the courage he had lost, but he did nothing of the sort, instead he shook his head at each word the other uttered, as if he wasn't convinced (in fact he was terrified), as if it were difficult for him to understand the full scope of the other man's dreams (in fact he didn't understand them at all),

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RBolano 2666 (adam.bredenberg@gmail.com) - Highlight Loc. 14294 | Added on Friday, August 10, 2012, 04:09 PM

Gobelins

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RBolano 2666 (adam.bredenberg@gmail.com) - Note Loc. 14309 | Added on Friday, August 10, 2012, 04:11 PM

further decadence

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RBolano 2666 (adam.bredenberg@gmail.com) - Highlight Loc. 14375-78 | Added on Friday, August 10, 2012, 04:30 PM

A father, he said, is a passageway immersed in the deepest darkness, where we stumble blindly seeking a way out. Still, he insisted that the boy at least tell him what his father looked like, but the young Hans Reiter replied that he sincerely didn't know. At this point Halder wanted to know whether he lived with his father or not. I've always lived with him, answered Hans Reiter.

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RBolano 2666 (adam.bredenberg@gmail.com) - Highlight Loc. 14394-95 | Added on Friday, August 10, 2012, 04:32 PM

He talked about Goethe and Schiller, he talked about Holderlin and Kleist, he raved about Novalis.

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RBolano 2666 (adam.bredenberg@gmail.com) - Highlight Loc. 14406-11 | Added on Friday, August 10, 2012, 04:32 PM

"Voids can't be filled," said Hans Reiter. "Yes, they can," said Halder, "with a little effort everything in this world can be filled. When I was your age," said Halder, clearly exaggerating, "I read Goethe until I couldn't read anymore (although Goethe, of course, is infinite), but anyway, I read Goethe, Eichendorff, Hoffman, and I neglected my studies of history, which are also needed in order to hone both edges of the blade, so to speak."

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RBolano 2666 (adam.bredenberg@gmail.com) - Highlight Loc. 14430-33 | Added on Friday, August 10, 2012, 04:34 PM

Of course, there were German medieval poets more important than Wolfram von Eschenbach. Like Friedrich von Hausen or Walther von der Vogelweide. But Wolfram's pride (I fled the pursuit of letters, I was untutored in the arts), a pride that stands aloof, a pride that says die, all of you, but I'll live, confers on him a halo of dizzying mystery, of terrible indifference, which attracted the young Hans the way a giant magnet attracts a slender nail.

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RBolano 2666 (adam.bredenberg@gmail.com) - Highlight Loc. 14442-45 | Added on Friday, August 10, 2012, 04:35 PM

When Halder saw him with it he smiled and told him he wouldn't understand it, but he also said he wasn't surprised he had chosen that book and none other, because in fact, he said, though he might never understand it, it was the perfect book for him, just as Wolfram von Eschenbach was the author in whom he would find the clearest resemblance to himself or his inner being or what he aspired to be, and, regrettably, never would become, though he might come this close, said Halder, holding his thumb and index finger a fraction of an inch apart.

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RBolano 2666 (adam.bredenberg@gmail.com) - Note Loc. 14450 | Added on Friday, August 10, 2012, 06:26 PM

like bolano and archimboldi perhaps

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RBolano 2666 (adam.bredenberg@gmail.com) - Highlight Loc. 14489-94 | Added on Friday, August 10, 2012, 06:35 PM

Healthy people flee contact with the diseased. This rule applies to almost everyone. Hans Reiter was an exception. He feared neither the healthy nor the diseased. He never got bored. He was always eager to help and he greatly valued the notion—so vague, so malleable, so warped—of friendship. The diseased, anyway, are more interesting than the healthy. The words of the diseased, even those who can manage only a murmur, carry more weight than those of the healthy. Then, too, all healthy people will in the future know disease. That sense of time, ah, the diseased man's sense of time, what treasure hidden in a desert cave. Then, too, the diseased truly bite, whereas the healthy pretend to bite but really only snap at the air. Then, too, then, too, then, too.

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RBolano 2666 (adam.bredenberg@gmail.com) - Highlight Loc. 14540-45 | Added on Friday, August 10, 2012, 06:43 PM

And yet sometimes he said interesting things. He said, for example, that Zen was a mountain that bites its own tail. He said the language he had studied was English and it was just another of the ministry's many mistakes that he was stationed in Berlin. He said that samurais were like fish in a waterfall but the best samurai in history was a woman. He said his father had known a Christian monk who lived for fifteen years without ever leaving the island of Endo, a few miles from Okinawa, an island of volcanic rock with no water.

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RBolano 2666 (adam.bredenberg@gmail.com) - Note Loc. 14572 | Added on Friday, August 10, 2012, 06:48 PM

wut

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RBolano 2666 (adam.bredenberg@gmail.com) - Highlight Loc. 14582-88 | Added on Friday, August 10, 2012, 06:58 PM

Again, because it was his favorite subject at the time, the conductor talked about music or the fourth dimension, it wasn't exactly clear where one ended and the other began, though perhaps, to judge by certain mysterious words of the conductor, the point of union was the conductor himself, in whom mysteries and answers spontaneously coincided. Halder and Nisa nodded agreement at everything. Not so Hans. According to the director, life qua life in the fourth dimension was of an unimaginable richness, etc., etc., but the truly important thing was the distance from which one, immersed in this harmony, could contemplate human affairs, with equanimity, in a word, and free of the artificial travails that oppress the spirit devoted to work and creation, to life's only transcendent truth, the truth that creates more and more life, an inexhaustible torrent of life and happiness and brightness.

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RBolano 2666 (adam.bredenberg@gmail.com) - Note Loc. 14626 | Added on Friday, August 10, 2012, 07:04 PM

interesting

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RBolano 2666 (adam.bredenberg@gmail.com) - Highlight Loc. 14707-10 | Added on Friday, August 10, 2012, 07:15 PM

It was around this time, as they walked under the sun or the gray clouds, enormous, endless gray clouds that brought tidings of a fall to remember, and his battalion left behind village after village, that Hans imagined that under his Wehrmacht uniform he was wearing the suit or garb of a madman.

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RBolano 2666 (adam.bredenberg@gmail.com) - Highlight Loc. 14745-50 | Added on Friday, August 10, 2012, 07:25 PM

To which the sergeant, after thinking a moment, replied no, it wasn't exactly that, Reiter, he said, was different, but actually he was the same person as always, the person everyone knew, what happened was that he had gone into combat as if he wasn't going into combat, as if he wasn't there or the quarrel wasn't with him, which didn't mean he failed to follow orders or disobeyed orders, it wasn't that at all, nor was he in a trance, some soldiers, paralyzed by fear, go into a trance, but it isn't a trance, it's just fear, anyway, he, the sergeant, wasn't sure what it was, but Reiter had something evident even to the enemy, who shot at him several times and never hit him, to their increasing dismay.

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RBolano 2666 (adam.bredenberg@gmail.com) - Note Loc. 14845 | Added on Friday, August 10, 2012, 07:39 PM

very strange. probably important. maybe.

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RBolano 2666 (adam.bredenberg@gmail.com) - Note Loc. 14870 | Added on Friday, August 10, 2012, 07:43 PM

profound misunerstanding... searching for meaning completely miguided... like a bad critic.

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RBolano 2666 (adam.bredenberg@gmail.com) - Highlight Loc. 14944-46 | Added on Friday, August 10, 2012, 09:02 PM

Then he dreamed about the inside of the crypt. The stairs led down to an amphitheater only partially illuminated by the SS officer's flashlight. He dreamed that the visitors were laughing, all except one of the general staff officers, who wept and searched for a place to hide. He dreamed that Hoensch recited a poem by Wolfram von Eschenbach and then spat blood. He dreamed that among them they had agreed to eat the Baroness Von Zumpe.

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RBolano 2666 (adam.bredenberg@gmail.com) - Highlight Loc. 14961-64 | Added on Friday, August 10, 2012, 09:04 PM

General Entrescu was of the opinion that this hardly mattered, the important thing was to keep moving, the dynamic of motion, which made men and all living beings, including cockroaches, equal to the great stars. Baroness Von Zumpe said, and perhaps she was the only one to speak frankly, that death was a bore. General Von Berenberg declined to offer an opinion, as did the two general staff officers.

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RBolano 2666 (adam.bredenberg@gmail.com) - Note Loc. 15007 | Added on Friday, August 10, 2012, 09:09 PM

pretty fucked up. the divsion between art and violence.

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RBolano 2666 (adam.bredenberg@gmail.com) - Note Loc. 15014 | Added on Friday, August 10, 2012, 10:31 PM

shallow

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RBolano 2666 (adam.bredenberg@gmail.com) - Note Loc. 15031 | Added on Friday, August 10, 2012, 10:36 PM

characterization of entrescu

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RBolano 2666 (adam.bredenberg@gmail.com) - Highlight Loc. 15032-36 | Added on Friday, August 10, 2012, 10:36 PM

"I steal into their dreams," he said. "I steal into their most shameful thoughts, I'm in every shiver, every spasm of their souls, I steal into their hearts, I scrutinize their most fundamental beliefs, I scan their irrational impulses, their unspeakable emotions, I sleep in their lungs during the summer and their muscles during the winter, and all of this I do without the least effort, without intending to, without asking or seeking it out, without constraints, driven only by love and devotion."

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RBolano 2666 (adam.bredenberg@gmail.com) - Note Loc. 15039 | Added on Friday, August 10, 2012, 10:37 PM

contrast with previous paragraph and mens breakfast... bread and water

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RBolano 2666 (adam.bredenberg@gmail.com) - Note Loc. 15061 | Added on Friday, August 10, 2012, 10:39 PM

like the duc

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RBolano 2666 (adam.bredenberg@gmail.com) - Highlight Loc. 15102-8 | Added on Saturday, August 11, 2012, 04:04 PM

There is no such thing as madness, he said. But you're here, said Popescu, and this is a madhouse. The mathematician didn't seem to be listening: the only real madness, if we can call it that, he said, is a chemical imbalance, which is easily cured by treatment with chemical products. "But you're here, dear professor, you're here, you're here," shouted Popescu. "For my own protection," said the mathematician.

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RBolano 2666 (adam.bredenberg@gmail.com) - Note Loc. 15140 | Added on Saturday, August 11, 2012, 04:07 PM

an essential part of horror... but why this?

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RBolano 2666 (adam.bredenberg@gmail.com) - Highlight Loc. 15181-83 | Added on Saturday, August 11, 2012, 04:24 PM

Von Berenberg's face was contorted, Reiter noted, as if he bore a huge weight on his shoulders, not the life of his soldiers, certainly, or his family, or even his own life, but the weight of his conscience, which was something that grew clear to Reiter and Wilke before they moved away from that peephole, struck with astonishment or horror.

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RBolano 2666 (adam.bredenberg@gmail.com) - Highlight Loc. 15242-45 | Added on Saturday, August 11, 2012, 05:13 PM

No one commits suicide in wartime, he thought as he lay in bed listening to his mother and father snore. Why not? Well, for convenience's sake, to postpone the inevitable, because human beings tend to leave their fate in the hands of others. In fact, the suicide rate is highest in wartime, but Reiter was too young then (though he could no longer be called completely untutored) to know that.

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RBolano 2666 (adam.bredenberg@gmail.com) - Note Loc. 15245 | Added on Saturday, August 11, 2012, 05:14 PM

again indeterminacy... or failures of knowledge

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RBolano 2666 (adam.bredenberg@gmail.com) - Highlight Loc. 15312-15 | Added on Saturday, August 11, 2012, 05:17 PM

"You're right," said Reiter. "What about books?" "Even worse," said the girl, "and anyway in my house there are only Nazi books, Nazi politics, Nazi history, Nazi economics, Nazi mythology, Nazi poetry, Nazi novels, Nazi plays."

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RBolano 2666 (adam.bredenberg@gmail.com) - Highlight Loc. 15293-300 | Added on Saturday, August 11, 2012, 05:17 PM

"Don't tell anyone," said the girl, "but to be honest, I don't believe in the army." "What do you believe in?" asked Reiter. "Not much," said the girl after pondering her reply for a second. "Sometimes I even forget what I believe in. There are so few things, and so many things I don't believe in, such a huge number of things, that they hide what I do believe in. Right now, for example, I can't remember anything."

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RBolano 2666 (adam.bredenberg@gmail.com) - Note Loc. 15300 | Added on Saturday, August 11, 2012, 05:17 PM

or course, she int mad at all

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RBolano 2666 (adam.bredenberg@gmail.com) - Highlight Loc. 15350-52 | Added on Saturday, August 11, 2012, 05:22 PM

"That's right, the Aztecs," said the girl, "the people who lived in Mexico before Cortes came, the ones who built the pyramids."

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RBolano 2666 (adam.bredenberg@gmail.com) - Note Loc. 15415 | Added on Saturday, August 11, 2012, 05:33 PM

rather horrific. the ritualization and mundanity of evil, rather like the nazis

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RBolano 2666 (adam.bredenberg@gmail.com) - Highlight Loc. 15516-20 | Added on Saturday, August 11, 2012, 05:53 PM

In the grove Reiter spotted a figure in the undergrowth and stopped. It was the statue of a Greek goddess, or so he believed. Her hair was gathered up and she was tall, her expression impassive. Bathed in sweat, Reiter began to shake and stretched out his hand. The marble or stone, he couldn't say which, was cold. There was something absurd about where it stood, because that hidden spot in the trees was hardly the place for a statue. For a brief and painful instant, Reiter thought he should ask it something, but no question occurred to him and his face twisted in a grimace of suffering. Then he ran.

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RBolano 2666 (adam.bredenberg@gmail.com) - Note Loc. 15628 | Added on Saturday, August 11, 2012, 08:32 PM

compare this story

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RBolano 2666 (adam.bredenberg@gmail.com) - Highlight Loc. 15670-73 | Added on Saturday, August 11, 2012, 08:38 PM

two of the engineers went mad, one of them peacefully, but the other dangerously, so that they had to liquidate him immediately on the orders of the neurologist, who explained there was no cure for that kind of madness, especially in the middle of such a blindingly white and mentally unsettling landscape, and then he was at the Okhotsk Sea with a supply detail carrying provisions to a detachment of lost explorers, but after a few days the supply detail got lost too and ended up eating all the provisions for the explorers

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RBolano 2666 (adam.bredenberg@gmail.com) - Highlight Loc. 15692 | Added on Sunday, August 12, 2012, 08:57 PM

Odoevsky and Lazhechnikov.

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RBolano 2666 (adam.bredenberg@gmail.com) - Highlight Loc. 15693-94 | Added on Sunday, August 12, 2012, 08:57 PM

in part because literary criticism, as keen as ever, neither extrapolated nor made the connection nor noticed a thing.

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RBolano 2666 (adam.bredenberg@gmail.com) - Highlight Loc. 15722-26 | Added on Sunday, August 12, 2012, 09:03 PM

which kept the magazine editor up at night, since he, a dialectical and methodical and materialist and in no way dogmatic Marxist, a Marxist who as a good Marxist hadn't studied only Marx but also Hegel and Feuerbach (and even Kant) and who laughed heartily when he reread Lichtenberg and had read Montaigne and Pascal and was relatively familiar with the writings of Fourier, couldn't believe that of all the good things (or, to be fair, the few good things) the magazine had published, it was this story, cloyingly sentimental and with no scientific basis, that had most moved the citizens of the land of the Soviets.

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RBolano 2666 (adam.bredenberg@gmail.com) - Highlight Loc. 15757-63 | Added on Sunday, August 12, 2012, 09:10 PM

For Ivanov, a real writer, a real artist and creator, was basically a responsible person with a certain level of maturity. A real writer had to know when to listen and when to act. He had to be reasonably enterprising and reasonably learned. Excessive learning aroused jealousy and resentment. Excessive enterprise aroused suspicion. A real writer had to be someone relatively cool-headed, a man with common sense. Someone who didn't talk too loud or start polemics. He had to be reasonably pleasant and he had to know how not to make gratuitous enemies. Above all, he had to keep his voice down, unless everyone else was raising his. A real writer had to be aware that behind him he had the Writers Association, the Artists Syndicate, the Confederation of Literary Workers, Poets House.

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RBolano 2666 (adam.bredenberg@gmail.com) - Note Loc. 15827 | Added on Sunday, August 12, 2012, 09:13 PM

huh

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RBolano 2666 (adam.bredenberg@gmail.com) - Highlight Loc. 15844-47 | Added on Sunday, August 12, 2012, 09:17 PM

He read the futurists, the members of the Centrifuge group, the imagists. He read Platonov's first stories and Babel, as well as Boris Pilnyak (whom he didn't like at all) and Andrey Bely, whose novel Petersburg kept him up for four days. He wrote an essay on the future of literature, which began and ended with the word nothing.

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RBolano 2666 (adam.bredenberg@gmail.com) - Highlight Loc. 15852-58 | Added on Sunday, August 12, 2012, 09:19 PM

And he also had time to write a strange humor piece titled Landauer, based on the last days of the German writer Gustav Landauer, who in 1918 wrote his Address to Writers and in 1919 was executed for his participation in the Munich Soviet Republic. And in 1929, too, he read a recently published novel, Alfred Doblin's Berlin Alexanderplatz, which struck him as notable and memorable and distinguished and drove him to seek out more books by Doblin, finding in the Moscow Library The Three Leaps of Wang-lun (1915), Wadzek's Battle with the Steam Engine (1918), Wallenstein (1920), and Mountains, Seas, and Giants (1924).

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RBolano 2666 (adam.bredenberg@gmail.com) - Highlight Loc. 15892-93 | Added on Sunday, August 12, 2012, 09:22 PM

"Fucking masochistic chickens, they have our leaders by the balls."

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RBolano 2666 (adam.bredenberg@gmail.com) - Highlight Loc. 15969-72 | Added on Sunday, August 12, 2012, 09:33 PM

Fear of being no good. Also fear of being overlooked. But above all, fear of being no good. Fear that one's efforts and striving will come to nothing. Fear of the step that leaves no trace. Fear of the forces of chance and nature that wipe away shallow prints. Fear of dining alone and unnoticed. Fear of going unrecognized. Fear of failure and making a spectacle of oneself. But above all, fear of being no good. Fear of forever dwelling in the hell of bad writers.

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RBolano 2666 (adam.bredenberg@gmail.com) - Highlight Loc. 15992-95 | Added on Sunday, August 12, 2012, 09:36 PM

So Ivanov considered himself the Cervantes of fantastic literature. He saw clouds in the shape of a guillotine, he saw clouds in the shape of a shot in the back of the head, but really he saw only himself riding alongside a mysterious and indispensable Sancho across the steppes of literary glory.

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RBolano 2666 (adam.bredenberg@gmail.com) - Highlight Loc. 15998 | Added on Sunday, August 12, 2012, 09:36 PM

Inessa Armand,

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RBolano 2666 (adam.bredenberg@gmail.com) - Highlight Loc. 16093-100 | Added on Sunday, August 12, 2012, 09:45 PM

And Nadja Yurenieva saw Ansky and got up discreetly and left the hall where the bad Soviet poet (as oblivious and foolish and prissy and gutless and affected as a Mexican lyrical poet, or actually a Latin American lyrical poet, that poor stunted and bloated phenomenon) reeled off his lines on the steel industry (possessing the same crass, arrogant ignorance as a Latin American poet speaking about his self, his era, his otherness), and she went out into the streets of Moscow, followed by Ansky, who instead of approaching her remained some fifteen feet behind, a distance that shrank as time passed and they walked farther. Never before had Ansky better understood or delighted more in suprematism, Kazimir Malevich's invention, nor the first tenet of Malevich's declaration of independence signed in Vitebsk on November 5, 1920, which proclaims: "The fifth dimension has been established."

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RBolano 2666 (adam.bredenberg@gmail.com) - Highlight Loc. 16128 | Added on Sunday, August 12, 2012, 09:51 PM

Flavius Josephus.

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RBolano 2666 (adam.bredenberg@gmail.com) - Highlight Loc. 16133-35 | Added on Sunday, August 12, 2012, 09:53 PM

Those who made revolution and those who were devoured by that same revolution, though it wasn't the same but another, not the dream but the nightmare that hides behind the eyelids of the dream.

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RBolano 2666 (adam.bredenberg@gmail.com) - Highlight Loc. 16146-47 | Added on Sunday, August 12, 2012, 09:54 PM

Arcimboldo, Giuseppe or Joseph or Josepho or Josephus Arcimboldo or Arcimboldi or Arcimboldus (1527-1593).

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RBolano 2666 (adam.bredenberg@gmail.com) - Highlight Loc. 16150 | Added on Sunday, August 12, 2012, 09:55 PM

He mocks, for example, the Manichaean conception that some Soviet painters have of Courbet.

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RBolano 2666 (adam.bredenberg@gmail.com) - Highlight Loc. 16174-80 | Added on Sunday, August 12, 2012, 10:00 PM

The one called Bonjour, Monsieur Courbet suggests to him the beginning of a film, one that gets off to a bucolic start and gradually lapses into horror. The Young Ladies on the Banks of the Seine recalls spies or shipwrecked sailors enjoying a brief rest, and Ansky goes on to say: spies from another planet, and also: bodies that wear out more quickly than other bodies, and also: disease, the transmission of disease, and also: the willingness to stand firm, and also: where does one learn to stand firm? in what kind of school or university? And also: factories, desolate streets, brothels, prisons, and also: the Unknown University, and also: meanwhile the Seine flows and flows and flows, and those ghastly faces of whores contain more beauty than the loveliest lady or vision sprung from the brush of Ingres or Delacroix.

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RBolano 2666 (adam.bredenberg@gmail.com) - Note Loc. 16206 | Added on Sunday, August 12, 2012, 10:10 PM

like the el chile dump people

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RBolano 2666 (adam.bredenberg@gmail.com) - Highlight Loc. 16241-47 | Added on Sunday, August 12, 2012, 10:13 PM

word uttered by the native who had been "assaulted" or "degraded" by the healthy and entirely innocent handshake. The word was dayiyi, which translates as cannibal or impossibility, but also has other meanings, including "man who rapes me," which, spoken after a howl, meant or could mean "man who rapes me in the ass," or "cannibal who fucks me in the ass and then eats my body," though it could also mean "man who touches me (or rapes me) and stares me in the eyes (to eat my soul)." In any case, the Frenchmen made their way back up the mountain after a rest on the coast, but they never saw the natives again.

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RBolano 2666 (adam.bredenberg@gmail.com) - Note Loc. 16246 | Added on Sunday, August 12, 2012, 10:13 PM

so what is rape?

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RBolano 2666 (adam.bredenberg@gmail.com) - Highlight Loc. 16254-57 | Added on Sunday, August 12, 2012, 10:15 PM

The Roast, for example, was like a horror painting, a reversible canvas that, hung one way, looked like a big metal platter of roast meats, including a suckling pig and a rabbit, with a pair of hands, probably a woman's or an adolescent's, trying to cover the meat so it won't get cold, and, hung the other way, showed the bust of a soldier, in helmet and armor, with a bold, satisfied smile missing some teeth, the terrible smile of an old mercenary who looks at you,

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RBolano 2666 (adam.bredenberg@gmail.com) - Highlight Loc. 16258-60 | Added on Sunday, August 12, 2012, 10:16 PM

The Lawyer (a lawyer or high official with his head made of pieces of small game and his body of books) was also like a horror painting. But the paintings of the four seasons were pure bliss. Everything in everything, writes Ansky. As if Arcimboldo had learned a single lesson, but one of vital importance.

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RBolano 2666 (adam.bredenberg@gmail.com) - Note Loc. 16260 | Added on Sunday, August 12, 2012, 10:16 PM

star

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RBolano 2666 (adam.bredenberg@gmail.com) - Highlight Loc. 16296-99 | Added on Sunday, August 12, 2012, 10:22 PM

During the night he came down to the first floor and read by the light of the fire, next to the bed where his mother slept. In one of his last notes he mentions the chaos of the universe and says that only in chaos are we conceivable. In another, he wonders what will be left when the universe dies and time and space die with it. Zero, nothing. But the idea makes him laugh. Behind every answer lies a question, Ansky remembers the peasants of Kostekino say. Behind every indisputable answer lies an even more complex question.

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RBolano 2666 (adam.bredenberg@gmail.com) - Highlight Loc. 16395-400 | Added on Sunday, August 12, 2012, 10:35 PM

You're a giant, said little Lotte. At first Reiter was disconcerted by this. But then he thought that for a child, and a child as sweet and impressionable as Lotte, someone of his height was the closest thing to a giant she had ever seen. Your steps echo in the forest, said Lotte in her letters. The birds of the forest hear the sound of your footsteps and stop singing. The workers in the fields hear you. The people hidden in dark rooms hear you. The Hitler Youth hear you and come out to wait for you on the road into town. Everything is happiness. You're alive. Germany is alive. Et cetera.

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RBolano 2666 (adam.bredenberg@gmail.com) - Highlight Loc. 16408-11 | Added on Sunday, August 12, 2012, 10:37 PM

And yet the possibility that it was all nothing but semblance troubled him. Semblance was an occupying force of reality, he said to himself, even the most extreme, borderline reality. It lived in people's souls and their actions, in willpower and in pain, in the way memories and priorities were ordered. Semblance proliferated in the salons of the industrialists and in the underworld. It set the rules, it rebelled against its own rules (in uprisings that could be bloody, but didn't therefore cease to be semblance), it set new rules.

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RBolano 2666 (adam.bredenberg@gmail.com) - Note Loc. 16413 | Added on Sunday, August 12, 2012, 10:40 PM

is it? americas pretty good at semblance

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RBolano 2666 (adam.bredenberg@gmail.com) - Highlight Loc. 16437-39 | Added on Sunday, August 12, 2012, 10:53 PM

And he accepted the guilt and happiness and some nights he even weighed them against each other and the net result of his unorthodox reckoning was happiness, but a different kind of happiness, a heartrending happiness that for Reiter wasn't happiness but simply Reiter.

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RBolano 2666 (adam.bredenberg@gmail.com) - Highlight Loc. 16455-57 | Added on Sunday, August 12, 2012, 11:15 PM

only to discover with horror, as he sat on the beach contemplating the immensity of the Black Sea, that Ansky's notebook, which he was carrying under his jacket, had been reduced to a kind of pulp, the ink blurred forever, half of the notebook stuck to his clothes or his skin and the other half reduced to particles washed away by the gentle waves.

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RBolano 2666 (adam.bredenberg@gmail.com) - Note Loc. 16504 | Added on Sunday, August 12, 2012, 11:23 PM

amusing

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RBolano 2666 (adam.bredenberg@gmail.com) - Highlight Loc. 16505-7 | Added on Sunday, August 12, 2012, 11:23 PM

The rifles were no longer pointed at anyone. The soldiers held them like field tools, as if they were tired peasants marching along the edge of the abyss. They knew the Russians weren't far off and they feared them, but none could resist a last visit to General Entrescu's cross.

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RBolano 2666 (adam.bredenberg@gmail.com) - Highlight Loc. 16522-34 | Added on Sunday, August 12, 2012, 11:27 PM

and the general, instead of seeking a safer place to the west, had decided to pay a visit to his castle, which they found deserted. There were no servants or any animals to be killed and eaten. For two days the general shut himself in his room and wouldn't come out. The soldiers roamed the house until they found the cellar and broke down the door. Despite the qualms of some of the officers, they started to drink. That night half of the 3rd Corps deserted. Those who stayed did so of their own free will, not coerced by anyone. They stayed because they loved General Entrescu. Or something like that. Some went out to loot the neighboring villages and didn't come back. Others shouted up at the general from the courtyard to resume command and decide what to do. But the general remained locked in his room and wouldn't let anyone in. One drunken night the soldiers broke down the door. General Entrescu was sitting in an armchair, surrounded by candelabras and tapers, looking through a photo album. Then what happened, happened. At first Entrescu defended himself, lashing out with his riding crop. But the soldiers were crazed with hunger and fear and they killed him and nailed him to the cross. "It must have been hard to make such a big cross," said Reiter. "We made it before we killed the general," said a Romanian. "I don't know why we made it, but we made it even before we got drunk."

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RBolano 2666 (adam.bredenberg@gmail.com) - Note Loc. 16534 | Added on Sunday, August 12, 2012, 11:27 PM

prophetic

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RBolano 2666 (adam.bredenberg@gmail.com) - Highlight Loc. 16603-9 | Added on Monday, August 13, 2012, 02:19 PM

"Do you like American food?" asked one of the soldiers. The civilian translated the question and Reiter said: "American meat is the best in the world." They all laughed again. "You're right," said the soldier, "but what you're eating isn't American meat. It's dog food." This time the translator (who chose not to translate the answer) and some of the soldiers laughed so hard they fell down.

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RBolano 2666 (adam.bredenberg@gmail.com) - Highlight Loc. 16625-26 | Added on Monday, August 13, 2012, 02:21 PM

began to whisper and moan and imagine scenes of splendor that together formed a chaotic assemblage of dark cubes stacked one on top of the other.

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RBolano 2666 (adam.bredenberg@gmail.com) - Highlight Loc. 16734-37 | Added on Monday, August 13, 2012, 02:30 PM

Then I saw the brigade of sweepers come back along the quite clean street and I was suddenly paralyzed by the sense that time was repeating itself. But thanks be to God, it wasn't the same sweepers. The problem was that they looked so much alike.

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RBolano 2666 (adam.bredenberg@gmail.com) - Highlight Loc. 16805-7 | Added on Monday, August 13, 2012, 02:35 PM

In the meantime I played a game of dice by the fire. A peasant who had emigrated from Estonia won every match. His three sons were at the front and each time he won he said something that struck me as very strange, even mysterious. Luck and death go hand in hand, he said. And he gave us a sad-eyed look as if the rest of us should take pity on him.

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RBolano 2666 (adam.bredenberg@gmail.com) - Note Loc. 16908 | Added on Monday, August 13, 2012, 02:42 PM

banality

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RBolano 2666 (adam.bredenberg@gmail.com) - Highlight Loc. 16944 | Added on Monday, August 13, 2012, 02:44 PM

Was there chaos? Did chaos reign? Did chaos prevail? I asked. A little, they answered sulkily, and I chose not to press them.

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RBolano 2666 (adam.bredenberg@gmail.com) - Note Loc. 16997 | Added on Monday, August 13, 2012, 02:50 PM

fucked up

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RBolano 2666 (adam.bredenberg@gmail.com) - Highlight Loc. 17002-3 | Added on Monday, August 13, 2012, 02:51 PM

boys put their hearts into it,

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RBolano 2666 (adam.bredenberg@gmail.com) - Note Loc. 17021 | Added on Monday, August 13, 2012, 02:53 PM

quality horror

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RBolano 2666 (adam.bredenberg@gmail.com) - Highlight Loc. 17028-29 | Added on Monday, August 13, 2012, 02:53 PM

That afternoon he disposed of eight Jews. It struck me as a paltry number, and I said as much. There were eight of them, the police chief answered, but it was as if there were eight hundred. I gazed at him in the eyes and understood.

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RBolano 2666 (adam.bredenberg@gmail.com) - Highlight Loc. 17071-72 | Added on Monday, August 13, 2012, 02:58 PM

I went to see the Jews, the police chief is my witness, and I told them to leave. Then I collected the two policemen who were on guard and abandoned the Jews to their fate in the old tannery. That's freedom, I suppose.

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RBolano 2666 (adam.bredenberg@gmail.com) - Note Loc. 17083 | Added on Monday, August 13, 2012, 03:00 PM

probably not true

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RBolano 2666 (adam.bredenberg@gmail.com) - Highlight Loc. 17133-35 | Added on Monday, August 13, 2012, 03:03 PM

There were some women who dated the occupying forces, but even for them desire was really the mask of something else: a theater of innocence, a frozen slaughterhouse, a lonely street, a movie theater. The women he saw were like girls who've just woken from a terrible nightmare.

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RBolano 2666 (adam.bredenberg@gmail.com) - Highlight Loc. 17218-22 | Added on Monday, August 13, 2012, 03:10 PM

Reiter sometimes fucked the girls who worked at the bar. These were hardly very passionate encounters. On the contrary. They made love as if they were talking soccer, sometimes even with a cigarette still in their mouths or chewing American gum, which had begun to be fashionable, and it was good for the nerves, chewing gum and fucking this way impersonally, although the act was far from impersonal but rather objective, as if once the nakedness of the slaughterhouse had been achieved everything else was unacceptable theatricality.

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RBolano 2666 (adam.bredenberg@gmail.com) - Highlight Loc. 17252-55 | Added on Monday, August 13, 2012, 03:15 PM

love, my prince, my sweetheart, words that embarrassed Reiter, because he found them precious and in those days he had declared war on preciousness and sentimentality and softness and anything overembellished or contrived or saccharine, but he didn't object, since the despair he glimpsed in Ingeborg's eyes, never entirely dispelled even by pleasure, paralyzed him as if he, Reiter, were a mouse caught in a trap.

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RBolano 2666 (adam.bredenberg@gmail.com) - Note Loc. 17098 | Added on Monday, August 13, 2012, 03:23 PM

note method of death... strangulation

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RBolano 2666 (adam.bredenberg@gmail.com) - Note Loc. 17100 | Added on Monday, August 13, 2012, 03:25 PM

murder is revenge... for journal jew? but also frees killed of humiliaton

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RBolano 2666 (adam.bredenberg@gmail.com) - Note Loc. 17302 | Added on Monday, August 13, 2012, 03:26 PM

confession to first murder.

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RBolano 2666 (adam.bredenberg@gmail.com) - Highlight Loc. 17306-13 | Added on Monday, August 13, 2012, 03:26 PM

Ingeborg laughed too. Then she began to talk about the way some women were attracted to men who killed women. About the high regard in which woman-killers were held by whores, for example, or by women who chose to love without reservations. In Reiter's opinion these women were hysterics. But Ingeborg, who claimed to know women of the sort, believed they were just gamblers, like cardplayers, more or less, who end up killing themselves late at night, or like the habitues of racetracks who commit suicide in cheap rented rooms or hotels tucked away on back-streets frequented by gangsters or Chinamen. "Sometimes," said Ingeborg, "when we're making love and you grab me by the neck, I've thought you might be a woman-killer."

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RBolano 2666 (adam.bredenberg@gmail.com) - Note Loc. 17329 | Added on Monday, August 13, 2012, 03:27 PM

apathy

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RBolano 2666 (adam.bredenberg@gmail.com) - Highlight Loc. 17362-63 | Added on Monday, August 13, 2012, 03:29 PM

"'An article of faith,' said the old woman, 'an assumption you can sum up in one word: the killer always returns to the scene of the crime.'

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RBolano 2666 (adam.bredenberg@gmail.com) - Highlight Loc. 17370-73 | Added on Monday, August 13, 2012, 03:29 PM

'"You can keep them,' she said. 'Every time you come to see me you can take two books, but now pay attention to something much more important than literature. You must change your name. You must never return to the scene of the crime. You must break the chain. Do you understand?'

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RBolano 2666 (adam.bredenberg@gmail.com) - Note Loc. 17386 | Added on Monday, August 13, 2012, 03:32 PM

does haas have a similar coat?

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RBolano 2666 (adam.bredenberg@gmail.com) - Note Loc. 17405 | Added on Monday, August 13, 2012, 03:34 PM

indeterminacy

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RBolano 2666 (adam.bredenberg@gmail.com) - Note Loc. 17413 | Added on Monday, August 13, 2012, 03:35 PM

so perhaps it is the english spy?

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RBolano 2666 (adam.bredenberg@gmail.com) - Note Loc. 17508 | Added on Tuesday, August 14, 2012, 09:11 PM

on fortune tellers advice, seperation of identities. compareto nazi lit.

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RBolano 2666 (adam.bredenberg@gmail.com) - Highlight Loc. 17525-34 | Added on Tuesday, August 14, 2012, 09:13 PM

"This country," he said to Reiter, who that afternoon, perhaps, became Archimboldi, "has tried to topple any number of countries into the abyss in the name of purity and will. As far as I'm concerned, you understand, purity and will are utter tripe. Thanks to purity and will we've all, every one of us, hear me you, become cowards and thugs, which in the end are one and the same. Now we sob and moan and say we didn't know! we had no idea! it was the Nazis! we never would have done such a thing! We know how to whimper. We know how to drum up sympathy. We don't care whether we're mocked so long as they pity us and forgive us. There'll be plenty of time for us to embark on a long holiday of forgetting. Do you understand me?" "I understand," said Archimboldi. "I was a writer," said the old man.

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RBolano 2666 (adam.bredenberg@gmail.com) - Highlight Loc. 17555-60 | Added on Tuesday, August 14, 2012, 09:15 PM

"Every minor work has a secret author and every secret author is, by definition, a writer of masterpieces. Who writes the minor work? A minor writer, or so it appears. The poor man's wife can testify to that, she's seen him sitting at the table, bent over the blank pages, restless in his chair, his pen racing over the paper. The evidence would seem to be incontrovertible. But what she's seen is only the outside. The shell of literature. A semblance," said the old man to Archimboldi and Archimboldi thought of Ansky. "The person who really writes the minor work is a secret writer who accepts only the dictates of a masterpiece.

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RBolano 2666 (adam.bredenberg@gmail.com) - Highlight Loc. 17567-70 | Added on Tuesday, August 14, 2012, 09:16 PM

His novel or book of poems, decent, adequate, arises not from an exercise of style or will, as the poor unfortunate believes, but as the result of an exercise of concealment. There must be many books, many lovely pines, to shield from hungry eyes the book that really matters, the wretched cave of our misfortune, the magic flower of winter!

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RBolano 2666 (adam.bredenberg@gmail.com) - Note Loc. 17574 | Added on Tuesday, August 14, 2012, 09:20 PM

a kind of philosophical/critical holocaust theory... anything less than amasterpiece is nothing or an illusion or eluson

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RBolano 2666 (adam.bredenberg@gmail.com) - Highlight Loc. 17576-82 | Added on Tuesday, August 14, 2012, 09:22 PM

"By now I knew it was pointless to write. Or that it was worth it only if one was prepared to write a masterpiece. Most writers are deluded or playing. Perhaps delusion and play are the same thing, two sides of the same coin. The truth is we never stop being children, terrible children covered in sores and knotty veins and tumors and age spots, but ultimately children, in other words we never stop clinging to life because we are life. One might also say: we're theater, we're music. By the same token, few are the writers who give up. We play at believing ourselves immortal. We delude ourselves in the appraisal of our own works and in our perpetual misappraisal of the works of others. See you at the Nobel, writers say, as one might say: see you in hell.

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RBolano 2666 (adam.bredenberg@gmail.com) - Bookmark Loc. 17591 | Added on Tuesday, August 14, 2012, 09:25 PM

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RBolano 2666 (adam.bredenberg@gmail.com) - Highlight Loc. 17591-95 | Added on Tuesday, August 14, 2012, 09:26 PM

forest no one can fence in, not even the academies, in fact, the academies make sure it flourishes unhindered, as do boosters and universities (breeding grounds for the shameless) and government institutions and patrons and cultural associations and declaimers of poetry— all aid the forest to grow and hide what must be hidden, all aid the forest to reproduce what must be reproduced, since the process is inevitable, though no one ever sees what exactly is being reproduced, what is being tamely mirrored back.

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RBolano 2666 (adam.bredenberg@gmail.com) - Highlight Loc. 17598-601 | Added on Tuesday, August 14, 2012, 09:29 PM

Plagiarism as camouflage as some wood and canvas scenery as a charade that leads us, likely as not, into the void. "In a word: experience is best. I won't say you can't get experience by hanging around libraries, but libraries are second to experience. Experience is the mother of science, it is often said.

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RBolano 2666 (adam.bredenberg@gmail.com) - Highlight Loc. 17623 | Added on Tuesday, August 14, 2012, 09:32 PM

as if it was supposed to tell me something that in the end it didn't.

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RBolano 2666 (adam.bredenberg@gmail.com) - Highlight Loc. 17664 | Added on Tuesday, August 14, 2012, 09:35 PM

And his reply: I don't have much time. How many doors it opened! How many paths were suddenly cleared, revealed to

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RBolano 2666 (adam.bredenberg@gmail.com) - Note Loc. 17698 | Added on Tuesday, August 14, 2012, 09:39 PM

is thi artitic cowardice or apathy?

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RBolano 2666 (adam.bredenberg@gmail.com) - Highlight Loc. 17759-63 | Added on Tuesday, August 14, 2012, 09:44 PM

"I get the idea perfectly, Mickey," said Archimboldi, thinking all the while that this man was not only irritating but ridiculous, with the particular ridiculousness of self-dramatizers and poor fools convinced they've been present at a decisive moment in history, when it's common knowledge, thought Archimboldi, that history, which is a simple whore, has no decisive moments but is a proliferation of instants, brief interludes that vie with one another in monstrousness.

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RBolano 2666 (adam.bredenberg@gmail.com) - Note Loc. 17828 | Added on Tuesday, August 14, 2012, 10:01 PM

geographical differences produce profound differences in personality an exprience. in all places, however, the id asserts itself powerfully

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RBolano 2666 (adam.bredenberg@gmail.com) - Note Loc. 17881 | Added on Tuesday, August 14, 2012, 10:09 PM

so is archimboldi queer?

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RBolano 2666 (adam.bredenberg@gmail.com) - Highlight Loc. 17918-21 | Added on Tuesday, August 14, 2012, 10:11 PM

That night, as he was working the door at the bar, he amused himself by thinking about a time with two speeds, one very slow, in which the movement of people and objects was almost imperceptible, and the other very fast, in which everything, even inert objects, glittered with speed. The first was called Paradise, the second Hell, and Archimboldi's only wish was never to inhabit either.

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RBolano 2666 (adam.bredenberg@gmail.com) - Highlight Loc. 17958-65 | Added on Tuesday, August 14, 2012, 10:15 PM

"You're sure you'll be famous!" Until that moment Archimboldi had never thought about fame. Hitler was famous. Goring was famous. The people he loved or remembered fondly weren't famous, they just satisfied certain needs. Doblin was his consolation. Ansky was his strength. Ingeborg was his joy. The disappeared Hugo Halder was lightheartedness and fun. His sister, about whom he had no news, was his own innocence. Of course, they were other things too. Sometimes they were even everything all together, but not fame, which was rooted in delusion and lies, if not ambition. Also, fame was reductive. Everything that ended in fame and everything that issued from fame was inevitably diminished. Fame's message was unadorned. Fame and literature were irreconcilable enemies.

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RBolano 2666 (adam.bredenberg@gmail.com) - Note Loc. 18060 | Added on Wednesday, August 15, 2012, 01:12 AM

again fluidity of meaning

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RBolano 2666 (adam.bredenberg@gmail.com) - Highlight Loc. 18077 | Added on Wednesday, August 15, 2012, 02:20 PM

Schwarzwald law,

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RBolano 2666 (adam.bredenberg@gmail.com) - Highlight Loc. 18111 | Added on Wednesday, August 15, 2012, 02:25 PM

of a new Doblin, a new Musil, a new Kafka

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RBolano 2666 (adam.bredenberg@gmail.com) - Highlight Loc. 18111-12 | Added on Wednesday, August 15, 2012, 02:25 PM

of a new Doblin, a new Musil, a new Kafka (although if a new Kafka appeared, said Mr. Bubis, laughing, but with a look of profound sadness in his eyes, I would quake in my boots), a new Thomas Mann.

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RBolano 2666 (adam.bredenberg@gmail.com) - Highlight Loc. 18144-45 | Added on Wednesday, August 15, 2012, 02:28 PM

"They called me Benno after Benito Juarez," said Archimboldi, "I suppose you know who Benito Juarez was."

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RBolano 2666 (adam.bredenberg@gmail.com) - Highlight Loc. 18220-21 | Added on Wednesday, August 15, 2012, 02:36 PM

"Well," said the baroness, "you've chosen a very elegant name. Rather jarring, but with a certain elegance, I'm sure."

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RBolano 2666 (adam.bredenberg@gmail.com) - Note Loc. 18235 | Added on Wednesday, August 15, 2012, 02:38 PM

i understand all too well

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RBolano 2666 (adam.bredenberg@gmail.com) - Note Loc. 18243 | Added on Wednesday, August 15, 2012, 02:44 PM

interesting

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RBolano 2666 (adam.bredenberg@gmail.com) - Note Loc. 18243 | Added on Wednesday, August 15, 2012, 02:44 PM

intresting

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RBolano 2666 (adam.bredenberg@gmail.com) - Highlight Loc. 18283-86 | Added on Wednesday, August 15, 2012, 02:49 PM

ever had. "Not because of the size of his cock," the baroness explained, to clear up any misunderstandings that Archimboldi, next to her in bed, might entertain, "but because of a kind of shape-shifting quality: he was cleverer than a crow when he talked and in bed he turned into a devil ray."

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RBolano 2666 (adam.bredenberg@gmail.com) - Highlight Loc. 18290-95 | Added on Wednesday, August 15, 2012, 02:50 PM

Except that the lion had no claws or if he did he wasn't prepared to use them, nor did he have the fangs to rip anyone apart, just a somewhat ridiculous sense of his own destiny, a destiny and a notion of destiny that in a way echoed Byron's destiny and notion of destiny, though Archimboldi, who happened to have read Byron by one of those coincidences that arise from the use of public libraries, thought the poet was in no way comparable, even as an echo, to the execrable General Entrescu, adding that incidentally the notion of destiny wasn't something that could be separated from the destiny of an individual (a wretched individual), but that the two things were essentially the same: destiny, ungraspable until it became inevitable, was each person's notion of his own destiny.

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RBolano 2666 (adam.bredenberg@gmail.com) - Highlight Loc. 18303-8 | Added on Wednesday, August 15, 2012, 02:52 PM

"And where were you?" asked the baroness. "In a secret chamber," said Archimboldi. Then the baroness laughed so hard she couldn't stop and between gasps she said she wasn't surprised he had decided to call himself Benno von Archimboldi. Archimboldi didn't understand what she meant, but he accepted the remark with good grace, laughing with her.

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RBolano 2666 (adam.bredenberg@gmail.com) - Highlight Loc. 18313-14 | Added on Wednesday, August 15, 2012, 02:53 PM

Uta, the copy editor, who could correct the grammar of Lessing, whom she despised with Hanseatic fervor, but not of Lichtenberg, whom she loved;

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RBolano 2666 (adam.bredenberg@gmail.com) - Highlight Loc. 18380-81 | Added on Wednesday, August 15, 2012, 02:59 PM

like the fiction of Doblin, who was still one of his favorite authors, or Kafka's complete works.

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RBolano 2666 (adam.bredenberg@gmail.com) - Note Loc. 18384 | Added on Wednesday, August 15, 2012, 03:02 PM

archimboldis vew of lit. perhaps important

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RBolano 2666 (adam.bredenberg@gmail.com) - Note Loc. 18424 | Added on Wednesday, August 15, 2012, 03:06 PM

polemic against philosophy perhaps

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RBolano 2666 (adam.bredenberg@gmail.com) - Note Loc. 18483 | Added on Wednesday, August 15, 2012, 03:11 PM

probably important

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RBolano 2666 (adam.bredenberg@gmail.com) - Note Loc. 18516 | Added on Wednesday, August 15, 2012, 03:12 PM

perhaps aztec?

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RBolano 2666 (adam.bredenberg@gmail.com) - Note Loc. 18542 | Added on Wednesday, August 15, 2012, 03:16 PM

a little borges here. also... tha philosopher with the s name

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RBolano 2666 (adam.bredenberg@gmail.com) - Highlight Loc. 18554-55 | Added on Wednesday, August 15, 2012, 03:18 PM

he finished his fifth book, which he called Bifurcaria Bifurcata and which was about seaweed, as the title clearly indicated.

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RBolano 2666 (adam.bredenberg@gmail.com) - Highlight Loc. 18580-82 | Added on Wednesday, August 15, 2012, 03:21 PM

in unison, the typists said good morning, Mrs. Dorothea, all at once, but without looking at Mrs. Dorothea and still typing, which struck Ingeborg as incredible, whether incredibly beautiful or incredibly horrible she wasn't sure,

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RBolano 2666 (adam.bredenberg@gmail.com) - Highlight Loc. 18593-94 | Added on Wednesday, August 15, 2012, 03:22 PM

Mrs. Dorothea liked speed and her typing was usually ahead of the other typing, as if she were blazing a path in the middle of a dark jungle, said Ingeborg, dark, dark

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RBolano 2666 (adam.bredenberg@gmail.com) - Highlight Loc. 18641-43 | Added on Wednesday, August 15, 2012, 03:29 PM

"I don't think so," said Ingeborg, "there are many people who kill, especially men who kill their wives, who never end up in prison." Leube laughed.

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RBolano 2666 (adam.bredenberg@gmail.com) - Highlight Loc. 18680-81 | Added on Wednesday, August 15, 2012, 03:31 PM

When she took the handkerchief away from her mouth the stain of blood was like a giant rose in full bloom.

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RBolano 2666 (adam.bredenberg@gmail.com) - Note Loc. 18789 | Added on Wednesday, August 15, 2012, 03:36 PM

lil bit o horror... the stars too 'theres nothng we ca do to stop it.'

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RBolano 2666 (adam.bredenberg@gmail.com) - Highlight Loc. 18884 | Added on Wednesday, August 15, 2012, 03:43 PM

threnody or an epicede, depending

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RBolano 2666 (adam.bredenberg@gmail.com) - Highlight Loc. 18888-90 | Added on Wednesday, August 15, 2012, 03:43 PM

the man had left alone because the woman had drowned. Where had the man gone? They

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RBolano 2666 (adam.bredenberg@gmail.com) - Highlight Loc. 18891-92 | Added on Wednesday, August 15, 2012, 03:44 PM

the German had left a little while ago and the German woman wasn't buried in the cemetery, because she had drowned and her body was never found.

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RBolano 2666 (adam.bredenberg@gmail.com) - Highlight Loc. 18924 | Added on Wednesday, August 15, 2012, 03:47 PM

Moravia,

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RBolano 2666 (adam.bredenberg@gmail.com) - Highlight Loc. 18938-39 | Added on Wednesday, August 15, 2012, 08:37 PM

whereas the latter, especially by comparison, was essentially a man of the lower orders, a Germanic barbarian, an artist in a state of permanent incandescence,

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RBolano 2666 (adam.bredenberg@gmail.com) - Note Loc. 18967 | Added on Wednesday, August 15, 2012, 08:42 PM

who isthe narrator? was it said somewhere that it was arturo or ulysses?

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RBolano 2666 (adam.bredenberg@gmail.com) - Highlight Loc. 19010-11 | Added on Wednesday, August 15, 2012, 08:50 PM

and then they started to talk about lapsus calami, many of them collected in a book published long ago in Paris and fittingly titled Le Musee des erreurs, as well as others selected by Max Sengen, hunter of errata.

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RBolano 2666 (adam.bredenberg@gmail.com) - Note Loc. 19042 | Added on Wednesday, August 15, 2012, 08:52 PM

a sort of horror.

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RBolano 2666 (adam.bredenberg@gmail.com) - Highlight Loc. 19096-100 | Added on Wednesday, August 15, 2012, 08:56 PM

"Doesn't Feuillet have something to do with the French word feuilleton?” asked old Marianne Gottlieb. "I seem to remember it means both the literary supplement of a particular newspaper and the serial novels published in it." "They're probably the same thing," said the Swiss boy enigmatically.

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RBolano 2666 (adam.bredenberg@gmail.com) - Highlight Loc. 19143-47 | Added on Wednesday, August 15, 2012, 08:58 PM

After Inheritance, the next manuscript Archimboldi sent to Bubis was Saint Thomas, the apocryphal biography of a biographer whose subject is a great writer of the Nazi regime, in whom some critics wanted to see a likeness of Ernst Jünger, although clearly it isn't Jünger but a fictional character.

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RBolano 2666 (adam.bredenberg@gmail.com) - Note Loc. 19166 | Added on Wednesday, August 15, 2012, 09:02 PM

and so with literature

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RBolano 2666 (adam.bredenberg@gmail.com) - Highlight Loc. 19235-38 | Added on Wednesday, August 15, 2012, 09:12 PM

savings. Until laptop computers appeared. Then he did buy one and after a little while he became skilled in its use. When laptops began to come with modems, Archimboldi exchanged his old computer for a new one and sometimes he spent hours on the Internet, searching for odd bits of news, names no one remembered anymore, forgotten occurrences. What did he do with the typewriter Bubis had given him? He flung it off a cliff onto the rocks!

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RBolano 2666 (adam.bredenberg@gmail.com) - Note Loc. 19251 | Added on Wednesday, August 15, 2012, 09:14 PM

faggot

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RBolano 2666 (adam.bredenberg@gmail.com) - Highlight Loc. 19373-76 | Added on Wednesday, August 15, 2012, 09:24 PM

"Wherever we dug we found bones," said the crippled captain. "The grounds were brimming with human bones. It was impossible to dig a trench without finding little hand bones, an arm, a skull. What was that place? What had happened there? And why did the madmen's cross, seen from the distance, ripple like a flag?"

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RBolano 2666 (adam.bredenberg@gmail.com) - Note Loc. 19408 | Added on Thursday, August 16, 2012, 09:24 PM

why?

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RBolano 2666 (adam.bredenberg@gmail.com) - Highlight Loc. 19426-28 | Added on Thursday, August 16, 2012, 09:25 PM

All friendly and degenerate people, affected by the heat and diet or lack of diet, people staring nightmare in the face.

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RBolano 2666 (adam.bredenberg@gmail.com) - Highlight Loc. 19440-42 | Added on Thursday, August 16, 2012, 09:27 PM

With Asuncion Reyes, Popescu found happiness, but then he lost it and they were divorced. He forgot the Tegucigalpa metro. Death surprised him in a Paris hospital, asleep on a bed of roses.

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RBolano 2666 (adam.bredenberg@gmail.com) - Highlight Loc. 19484-86 | Added on Thursday, August 16, 2012, 09:32 PM

"That apple has a scent at night," said the essayist. "When I turn out the light. It smells as strongly as Rimbaud's Voyelles.' But everything collapses in the end," said the essayist. "Everything collapses in pain. All eloquence springs from pain."

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RBolano 2666 (adam.bredenberg@gmail.com) - Note Loc. 19534 | Added on Thursday, August 16, 2012, 09:36 PM

another kind o horror i think. especially in ight of earlier scenery.

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RBolano 2666 (adam.bredenberg@gmail.com) - Note Loc. 19547 | Added on Thursday, August 16, 2012, 09:37 PM

as a standalone phrase, really creepy.

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RBolano 2666 (adam.bredenberg@gmail.com) - Note Loc. 19555 | Added on Thursday, August 16, 2012, 09:38 PM

violenceagainst women esp. whores

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RBolano 2666 (adam.bredenberg@gmail.com) - Note Loc. 19578 | Added on Thursday, August 16, 2012, 09:40 PM

awesome

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RBolano 2666 (adam.bredenberg@gmail.com) - Note Loc. 19581 | Added on Thursday, August 16, 2012, 09:41 PM

decay of meaning

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RBolano 2666 (adam.bredenberg@gmail.com) - Note Loc. 19581 | Added on Thursday, August 16, 2012, 09:42 PM

decay of meaning. like the text, the baronesses communiques become series of images

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RBolano 2666 (adam.bredenberg@gmail.com) - Note Loc. 19597 | Added on Thursday, August 16, 2012, 09:44 PM

identity. meaning.

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RBolano 2666 (adam.bredenberg@gmail.com) - Note Loc. 19600 | Added on Thursday, August 16, 2012, 09:45 PM

we should not be surprised. perhaps disappointed in archimbldi... bt who else has he met?

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RBolano 2666 (adam.bredenberg@gmail.com) - Highlight Loc. 19623-26 | Added on Thursday, August 16, 2012, 09:55 PM

The last time they saw each other was in a ghostly Italian city. The Baroness Von Zumpe wore a white hat and used a cane. She talked about the Nobel Prize and she also complained bitterly about vanished writers, a custom or habit or joke that she believed to be more American than European. Archimboldi was wearing a short-sleeved shirt and he listened to her carefully, because he was going deaf, and he laughed.

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RBolano 2666 (adam.bredenberg@gmail.com) - Highlight Loc. 19652-53 | Added on Thursday, August 16, 2012, 09:58 PM

they just sit at the door to their houses or under a tree and fall asleep and then they're dead.

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RBolano 2666 (adam.bredenberg@gmail.com) - Highlight Loc. 19680-84 | Added on Thursday, August 16, 2012, 10:02 PM

They all had their heads and ears covered with kerchiefs and blankets and on the radio a man's voice said Hitler didn't exist, that he was dead. But not existing and dying were different things, thought Lotte. Until then her first menstrual period had been late in coming. Earlier that day, however, she had begun to bleed and she didn't feel well. Her one-eyed mother told her it was normal, the same thing happened sooner or later to all women. My brother the giant doesn't exist, thought Lotte, but that doesn't mean he's dead. The shadows didn't notice her presence. Some sighed. Others began to weep.

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RBolano 2666 (adam.bredenberg@gmail.com) - Highlight Loc. 19712-13 | Added on Thursday, August 16, 2012, 10:05 PM

He must be buried in Russia, she said with a hard, resigned shrug. Lotte began to go out.

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RBolano 2666 (adam.bredenberg@gmail.com) - Note Loc. 19713 | Added on Thursday, August 16, 2012, 10:05 PM

connection?

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RBolano 2666 (adam.bredenberg@gmail.com) - Highlight Loc. 19754-55 | Added on Thursday, August 16, 2012, 10:08 PM

For a while she thought about becoming a vegetarian. Instead, she took up smoking.

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RBolano 2666 (adam.bredenberg@gmail.com) - Highlight Loc. 19835-36 | Added on Thursday, August 16, 2012, 10:15 PM

He almost never got sick, although the few times he did his temperature soared and he was delirious and saw things no one else could see.

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RBolano 2666 (adam.bredenberg@gmail.com) - Highlight Loc. 19864-65 | Added on Thursday, August 16, 2012, 10:20 PM

with two friends, in the theft of a car and a later case of sexual assault involving an Italian girl who worked at a small medical supply factory.

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RBolano 2666 (adam.bredenberg@gmail.com) - Note Loc. 19872 | Added on Thursday, August 16, 2012, 10:20 PM

mostly whores, maybe

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RBolano 2666 (adam.bredenberg@gmail.com) - Note Loc. 19904 | Added on Thursday, August 16, 2012, 10:23 PM

maybethey are childre but not his

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RBolano 2666 (adam.bredenberg@gmail.com) - Note Loc. 19917 | Added on Thursday, August 16, 2012, 10:25 PM

sounds important... but what i th function n the surreal in thi text? is there a function? is it a function in the typical sense?

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RBolano 2666 (adam.bredenberg@gmail.com) - Highlight Loc. 19948 | Added on Thursday, August 16, 2012, 10:28 PM

led him to another man, someone Klaus had worked for,

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RBolano 2666 (adam.bredenberg@gmail.com) - Note Loc. 19948 | Added on Thursday, August 16, 2012, 10:28 PM

referenced elsewhere?

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RBolano 2666 (adam.bredenberg@gmail.com) - Note Loc. 20011 | Added on Thursday, August 16, 2012, 10:33 PM

another form of horror

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RBolano 2666 (adam.bredenberg@gmail.com) - Note Loc. 20064 | Added on Thursday, August 16, 2012, 10:39 PM

keep in mind... when bolano uses 'seemed' he speaks rom the characters perspective

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RBolano 2666 (adam.bredenberg@gmail.com) - Highlight Loc. 20073-77 | Added on Thursday, August 16, 2012, 10:40 PM

After Lotte did he confessed that for a long time he'd had dreams about his uncle too, and they weren't good dreams. "What kind of dreams were they?" Lotte asked him. "Bad dreams," said Klaus.

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RBolano 2666 (adam.bredenberg@gmail.com) - Highlight Loc. 20107-9 | Added on Friday, August 17, 2012, 01:47 AM

In one of her dreams a warm, loving voice whispered in her ear the possibility that her son really was the Santa Teresa killer. "That's ridiculous," she shouted, and immediately woke up.

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RBolano 2666 (adam.bredenberg@gmail.com) - Highlight Loc. 20142-47 | Added on Friday, August 17, 2012, 01:50 AM

"What did you dream?" asked Lotte. "Don't you know?" asked Klaus. "I don't," said Lotte. "Then I'd better not tell you," said Klaus, and he hung up.

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RBolano 2666 (adam.bredenberg@gmail.com) - Highlight Loc. 20177-78 | Added on Friday, August 17, 2012, 01:56 AM

Before she left Santa Teresa, Isabel Santolaya told her that the trial had been plagued with irregularities and would probably be declared a mistrial.

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RBolano 2666 (adam.bredenberg@gmail.com) - Note Loc. 20243 | Added on Friday, August 17, 2012, 08:27 PM

kinda infrareal

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RBolano 2666 (adam.bredenberg@gmail.com) - Note Loc. 20246 | Added on Friday, August 17, 2012, 08:28 PM

arcimboldi is certanly blano in some ways

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RBolano 2666 (adam.bredenberg@gmail.com) - Highlight Loc. 20294-95 | Added on Friday, August 17, 2012, 08:35 PM

She heard noises in the corridor. The TV was still on but with the sound muted. She dreamed of a cemetery and the tomb of a giant. The gravestone split and the giant's hand rose up, then his other hand, then his head, a head crowned with long blond hair caked with dirt.

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RBolano 2666 (adam.bredenberg@gmail.com) - Highlight Loc. 20341-42 | Added on Friday, August 17, 2012, 08:38 PM

And she hung up. In Mexico Lotte sat for a while longer with the phone pressed to her ear. The sounds she heard were like the sounds of the abyss. The sounds a person hears as she plummets into the abyss.

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RBolano 2666 (adam.bredenberg@gmail.com) - Highlight Loc. 20355-61 | Added on Friday, August 17, 2012, 08:40 PM

"I don't know what to do anymore," said Lotte after a long silence. "I don't have the strength. I don't understand anything and the little I do understand frightens me. Nothing makes sense," said Lotte. "You're just tired," said her brother. "Old and tired. I need grandchildren," said Lotte. "But you're even older," said Lotte. "How old are you?"

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RBolano 2666 (adam.bredenberg@gmail.com) - Note Loc. 20371 | Added on Friday, August 17, 2012, 08:41 PM

gettingused to something horrible is itself horrible

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RBolano 2666 (adam.bredenberg@gmail.com) - Note Loc. 20393 | Added on Friday, August 17, 2012, 08:44 PM

wat.

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RBolano 2666 (adam.bredenberg@gmail.com) - Note Loc. 20393 | Added on Friday, August 17, 2012, 08:48 PM

wat. is this a shameless setup so the guy on the nxt page doesnt come as acomplete surprise? kindaundermining of convention.

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RBolano 2666 (adam.bredenberg@gmail.com) - Note Loc. 20423 | Added on Friday, August 17, 2012, 08:50 PM

a minor horror... to have ones name educed to a triviality.

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RBolano 2666 (adam.bredenberg@gmail.com) - Highlight Loc. 20432-34 | Added on Friday, August 17, 2012, 08:51 PM

Suddenly the park lights came on, although there was a second of total darkness, as if someone had tossed a black blanket over parts of Hamburg.

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RBolano 2666 (adam.bredenberg@gmail.com) - Note Loc. 20442 | Added on Friday, August 17, 2012, 08:53 PM

'a mysterious legacy' is probably meaningful... though the abrupt and indeterminate ending is about as far as one can get from meaning...which in itself constitutes a meaning

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RBolano 2666 (adam.bredenberg@gmail.com) - Highlight Loc. 20464-67 | Added on Friday, August 17, 2012, 08:55 PM

Although the five parts that make up 2666 can be read independently, they not only share many elements (a subtle web of recurring motifs), they also serve a common end. There is no point attempting to justify the relatively "open" structure that contains them, especially considering the precedent of The Savage Detectives. If that novel had been published posthumously, would it not have given rise to all kinds of speculation about its unfinished state?

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RBolano 2666 (adam.bredenberg@gmail.com) - Highlight Loc. 20482-87 | Added on Friday, August 17, 2012, 08:57 PM

That enigmatic number, 2666—a date, really—that functions as a vanishing point around which the different parts of the novel fall into place. Without this vanishing point, the perspective of the whole would be lopsided, incomplete, suspended in nothingness. In one of his many notes for 2666, Bolaño indicates the existence in the work of a "hidden center," concealed beneath what might be considered the novel's "physical center."

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RBolano 2666 (adam.bredenberg@gmail.com) - Highlight Loc. 20503-5 | Added on Friday, August 17, 2012, 08:59 PM

Guerrero, at that time of night, is more like a cemetery than an avenue, not a cemetery in 1974 or in 1968, or 1975, but a cemetery in the year 2666, a forgotten cemetery under the eyelid of a corpse or an unborn child, bathed in the dispassionate fluids of an eye that tried so hard to forget one particular thing that it ended up forgetting everything else.

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RBolano 2666 (adam.bredenberg@gmail.com) - Highlight Loc. 20516-19 | Added on Sunday, August 19, 2012, 07:52 PM

A final observation is perhaps in order here. Among Bolaño's notes for 2666 there appears the single line: "The narrator of 2666 is Arturo Belano." And elsewhere Bolaño adds, with the indication "for the end of 2666": "And that's it, friends. I've done it all, I've lived it all. If I had the strength, I'd cry. I bid you all goodbye, Arturo Belano."