Bookmarker is a personal project by @dellsystem to help with retaining reading material. Source on GitHub.

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You added a note
3 years, 3 months ago

duty towards the self

[..] On the other hand, it did allow me to sign up for more escorts. I felt no real desire, only an obscure Kantian notion of ‘duty towards the self’, as I surfed my usual sites. In the end I settled on an ad posted by two girls: a twenty-two-year-old Moroccan named Rachida and a twenty-four-year-o…

—p.160 Submission by Michel Houellebecq
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3 years, 3 months ago

these two escorts were fine

[...] She was a regular participant in gang bangs, usually held in swingers’ clubs, sometimes in car parks or other public places. Although she charged a nominal fee – fifty euros per person – she made a lot at these parties, since she invited as many as forty or fifty men, who took turns in all th…

—p.153 by Michel Houellebecq
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3 years, 3 months ago

duck confit struck me as incompatible with civil war

I woke around four in the morning, lucid and alert. I took my time packing, assembling a small pharmacy and enough changes of clothing to last me a month. I even found the walking shoes – American, high-tech, never worn – that I’d bought a year before, when I thought I might take up hiking. I also …

—p.101 by Michel Houellebecq
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3 years, 3 months ago

disappointing but egalitarian

There was nothing to eat at home, and I didn’t want to deal with the Géant Casino – after work was the wrong time to go shopping in such a densely populated neighbourhood – but I was hungry. More than that, I felt like buying stuff to eat, blanquette de veau, pollock with chervil, Berber-style mous…

—p.96 by Michel Houellebecq
You added a note
3 years, 3 months ago

then went to meet their Maker

In the old days, people lived as families, that is to say, they reproduced, slogged through a few more years, long enough to see their children reach adulthood, then went to meet their Maker. The reasonable thing nowadays was for people to wait until they were closer to fifty or sixty and then move…

—p.90 by Michel Houellebecq