An Unquiet Mind
First great sign! Secondly I agree it never does. That’s why the truth has to be dug to be got to, because we can’t conceive the entirety of it, just little pieces at a time, like the first archeologist's who uncover the fossil of a tyrannosaur, only when they finally glimpse the whole shape of it, it comes to life and eats them all. Fucking Christ, if we went around with the whole truth in our heads all the time, we’d just never stop screaming until someone finally looked the other way and we managed two minutes of privacy to kill ourselves and end the horrifying senselessness. That’s truth. Not just stranger than fiction .
"When a woman has scholarly inclinations there is usually something wrong with her sexuality."
-Friedrich Nietzsche
Oh, Fred, you have no idea.
The above pic is a still taken from the day that they shot the scene where Clemmy stops the children from making fun of little Joel in his memory and hustles his ass out of there. That is such an amazing moment!! I have always fantasized about being able to do that for people. I love my dearest, very closest friends, so - to be able to go back in time to their saddest moments and just ease their suffering, like, just do something to take their pain away and help them see that things will get better. But it is not just my friends’ times of despair that I apply this mental exercise to. I do it for me, too.
Sometimes when the world is asleep and I'm alone I find myself haunted by a particularly painful memory, I honestly try to walk backward in my mind and picture a moment of great agony as clearly as I can, and I give my little person-self a hug. And I promise me it’s going to be all okay. Try it. Maybe that’s how you got through it the first time, to begin with.
Sometimes when the world is asleep and I'm alone I find myself haunted by a particularly painful memory, I honestly try to walk backward in my mind and picture a moment of great agony as clearly as I can, and I give my little person-self a hug. And I promise me it’s going to be all okay. Try it. Maybe that’s how you got through it the first time, to begin with.
"What matters most is how well you walk through the fire."
-Bukowski
The Bird and The Bee - How Deep Is Your Love?
The saddest thing I have ever heard and maybe the closest thing to my heart.
I read a couple days ago in a 2006 article by the NY Times about the loneliest whale in the world. These scientists have been tracking her since 1992 and they discovered the problem:
That she isn’t like any other baleen whales. Unlike all other whales, of her kind, she doesn’t have any friends. She doesn’t have a family. She doesn’t belong to any tribe, pack or gang. She doesn’t have a lover. She never had one. Her songs come in groups of two to six calls, lasting for five to six seconds each, but her voice is unlike any other baleen whale- it is unique—while the rest of her kind communicate between 12 and 25hz, she sings at 51.75hz. you see, that’s precisely the problem. No other whales can hear her. So every single one of her desperate calls to communicate remains unanswered. Each cry ignored. And with every lonely song, she becomes sadder and more frustrated, her notes going deeper in despair as the years go by.
And thats her in the pic.
I totally get what that whales going through.
The saddest thing I have ever heard and maybe the closest thing to my heart.
I read a couple days ago in a 2006 article by the NY Times about the loneliest whale in the world. These scientists have been tracking her since 1992 and they discovered the problem:
That she isn’t like any other baleen whales. Unlike all other whales, of her kind, she doesn’t have any friends. She doesn’t have a family. She doesn’t belong to any tribe, pack or gang. She doesn’t have a lover. She never had one. Her songs come in groups of two to six calls, lasting for five to six seconds each, but her voice is unlike any other baleen whale- it is unique—while the rest of her kind communicate between 12 and 25hz, she sings at 51.75hz. you see, that’s precisely the problem. No other whales can hear her. So every single one of her desperate calls to communicate remains unanswered. Each cry ignored. And with every lonely song, she becomes sadder and more frustrated, her notes going deeper in despair as the years go by.
And thats her in the pic.
I totally get what that whales going through.
“It is so hard for us little human beings to accept this deal that we get. It’s really crazy, isn’t it? We get to live, then we have to die. What we put into every moment is all we have.” — Gilda.
“I’m not so funny. Gilda was funny. I’m funny on camera sometimes. In life, once in a while. Once in a while. But she was funny.” — Gene Wilder
The funniest man I know.he shivers me timbers just about ever time ;)
How dare someone vocalize what I was thinking.
I have reallly thought about this pic. Found it on some off site bitching about graffiti in my home town by the bay. What intrigues me is that it does not seem like English is this person's first language, (common in Cali) however - he or she expressed their sentiment in that language BECAUSE it is the first language of most of the people who might see it. It is an argument for the intent of this lovestruck and lonely artist’s writing on a wall being a case of strongly motivated self-expression, powerful and inescapable emotion that needs to be explained so the one experiencing it can at least have an illusion of being understood. It's an outpouring of frustration and love, maybe grief? — it is the poor man's poetry. Really. I mean, say what you want about some graffiti, but this person needed to share and they needed it badly enough to work outside their linguistic zone of mastery to do it. That's impressive, and just achingly human. Because everyone around us at the grocery, or in traffic, or at the bookstore or in bed after the lights have gone out and they cant sleep, has a sentence like this that they are secretly screaming in their heads all fucking day and night long. What have we done in the world that has cut us off so very, very much from one another, that we howl in paint and print instead of to one another about our loneliness? I hope that the person this message was supposed to reach - reached them. "I hope they got it." Cause the translation came through loud and clear.
"Every man who knows how to read has it in his power to magnify himself, to multiply the ways in which he exists, to make his life full, significant and interesting." — Aldous Huxley
“I wonder if illiterate people get the full effect of alphabet soup?'
I just have a really ,really sick thing going for funny guys .Started with Steve Martin and Richard Pryor. While others might have been traumatized by Elvis' passing I sucked my thumb for days after Belushi died. Growing up I either wanted to be a mugger or a stand up comedian. (Haven't completely given up on either of those dreams, yet.. ) Chris Rock and Dave Chappelle are now my main men, along with Jim. I do not care about the stupid Ace Ventura movies or Dumb and Dumber. I’ve never even seen them. That’s basically due to the fact that I really, really like everything else about Jim Carrey. I just think he’s an excellent, sensitive, even somewhat tragic human being. Not just a celibatard , but a real person. Awhile back, someone asked me “If you could hang with one famous person for a day, living or dead–” kinda question, and I immediately shouted out, “Definitley Jim Carrey!” Then I felt bad for not saying Jesus or Ghandi or something...
I just would like to know if hes half as awesome as I think he is.
