"famous Nietzsche quote." by jon Lyndon

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The expressionism was pure NeoDada, and deranged. Der Zoomorphic was next door to the slightly more infamous Black Tie White Noise Neoclassicist/Jazz Club.
Andreas and Javan ordered two Belgian beers and a Ten Point bag of ketamine.
Javan's friend was wearing a peculiar deep black pair of sunglasses that Javan found himself staring at. Andreas took them off with a kind of a wince. He smiled curiously at Javan with a bizarre look; a contorted face. "Thank you for coming, Prince Javanshir," he said.
"It's Javan, to you. And especially in this area." They both laughed. "You seemed to have something important to tell me. And why meet here? There's plenty of... more advanced clubs in Unsbourne, Andreas."
"What I have is not something for Unsbourne. Das ist groß, mein Freund."
"Everything with you is 'big'."
"Ja! And Zara would agree, ja!" Followed by more laughter. Andreas looked around him with a kind of nervousness that Javan was not used to. He noticed his friend was fidgeting with an unlit cigarette and constantly looking towards the exits. Javan thought it might be nothing, but he felt a sense of something serious in this business.
"Have you been at the Christ, tonight, Andreas?" Christ was the newest, deadliest and most popular form of amphetamine on the underground market these days, mixing crsytal-meth, cocaine and ice.
"Christ! Christ! Christ! Javan. Ja, and there's plenty more so don't let your princely self get all tied up in your panties." A strange sense of quiet fell across the room as there was a lull in the music and the constant chatter of the crowd. "I think Christ heard us, just then."
Three seconds later the club was as loud as bombs, again. Andreas raised his hand, with the cigarette, automatically to his mouth. Javan pulled out a flame-thrower lighter and burnt the end of the black kretek, then lit one for himself. The blue and gray smoke fluttered in the flashing disco lights around them at their table by the wall, beneath a white-painted caged window.
"So," Javan began. "What's this Big deal you're all ejaculated about?"
"Nothing is that simple." A vague answer.
Over the music, through the PA the words: "God is dead," repeated in an industrial rhythm until the gathering crowd, spread lips and spread legs, joined in with the famous Nietzsche quote.
Andreas: "As if the great philosopher never said anything else. God is dead!? It's everywhere, same as: 'That which does not kill us makes us stronger.' Rubbish! Let's not forget the truly brilliant: 'For beauty is nothing but the beginning of terror, which we are still able to endure, and we are so awed by it because it serenely disdains...' "
Javan: "...to annihilate us."
Andreas; "Bravo! The true deus ex machina! God is not dead, mein Freund. God is Beauty. Thus spake Zarathustra.
Javan: "The Birth of Tragedy."
Andreas: "The illusion of illusions."
Javan: "And you keep playing smoke and mirrors with me, Andreas. C'mon. I'm dying to know this Big Secret.

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