"This truth was given me," bellowed the prophet's baritone in a mixture of hurried and drawn out syl¬lables that oscillated from mezzo forte to a resonat¬ing fortissimo for the words 'truth' and 'me,' "by the pheasant king who was formed first."
Have after a weird world is formed it revealed to be a story and have Man be her descendents and have man form the creatures which are the storytellers.
Fecundity. Horizon. Song.
I understand the verb 'to conquer' only as a word; it has no practical connotation for me.
--
They having an ovular existence outside of the egg, though egg there never was. Connected by breezes both feeding and giving shape. Being engulfed in an airy film. A film leaving no access but through the Eyes.
--
Every weekday afternoon saw the same routine: around five-thirty I would finish cross-country practice, change, gather with a few friends and walk the three blocks from Gonzaga Catholic High School to the Union Station metro-stop in Northwest D.C. We all felt very urban with that daily routine, even though almost every one of us lived in the suburbs. We all had stories about falling asleep on the train, missing our stop, and waking up in a "sketchy area;" of getting lost in a bad part of town late at night; or of almost getting — or actually getting — a mugged. Such stories were part of the mystique of city life for us, a life we pretended to lead even though we were suburbanites since birth. But despite all our talk, we knew we weren't actually city slickers. We Italian and Irish-Catholic kids were white. The typical Washingtonian is black.
--
Sori watches him because watching is what girls in love do. She doesn't speak to him because he makes for a paltry conversationalist. She remembers this much about him, and his hands.
He still didn't speak to her. Neither would his face. If he was the type of father she'd wanted, he might have said something profound. Sometimes she forgets the only thing she wanted him to say was Sori Sori Sori, tell me an ice cream story.
--
These monsters walk, talk, behave like humans but they seem so far away. They are only accessible through TV screens, speakers and books. When they die another one springs up and to appeal to the new culture. These monsters are called celebrities.
The monster, being indefinable, is able to travel seamlessly between identities. We have seen Britney the pop princess, the lesbian, the teen icon, the wife, the good mom, the bad mom, the divorcee, the singer, the actress and so many more. The public is always surprised by her and this makes her extremely dangerous.
Just as the Western world successfully associated "Dark skin... with the fires of hell", the media successfully associates Britney Spears and celebrities in general with the Hollywood lifestyle.
Here, Letterman is making light of the issue of our society's taboo subject of homosexuality which Britney demonstrated with Madonna and her promiscuity which is so advanced that even Letterman could be her baby's daddy!
Yeah, that's right, Saint Peter. Go ahead. Leave the ring. I'll snag it, and then you'll be my little pet for the rest of forever!
If someone does something that's good for me (like, say, gives me three dollars and fifty cents — hint, hint), I say that to be a good thing. I want you to give me three fifty, so when you do it, you're a "good" person. But none of you want to give me three fifty because you're all evil people and I don't like you.
--
When I was 14, I was abducted by aliens.
No, I wasn't.
Yes, I was.
No, I wasn't.
Does it matter?
Stop pretending like you think I'm conceited...Do you care that I was abducted by aliens? I doubt it.
--
what happens
when the girl
you have
masturbated
to
lo and behold
over the last
several
years
(you
find
out)
is
dead?
She then cast down her pearly Eyes and were formed the sea. Her clubs fell from her hands and forested the newly grounded space. The smoke on which she rode filled the space above. And her teeth buried themselves deep in the earth. Her belly grew as the Zephyr continued to encompass all that was now newly visible. And from Her dropped Man onto the dirt.
--
Assignment #1: Chase Scene
A woman (Character A) enters a public restroom. She places her purse on the floor of the bathroom stall. A hand (Character B) reaches under the stall, stealing her purse. Clearly delayed, she runs off in pursuit of the thief. She runs down two flights of stairs, and out the door of the building where the bathroom was. The thief, who had been sprinting ahead, exits the building and quickly slings the purse over her shoul¬der, slows to a walking pace, and blends in with the crowd. The theft victim (A) searches around to no avail. In the background, the thief (B) lights up one of the victim's cigarettes, and walks away casually.
--
BOBBY (struggling to get it out): Mom--Aaron and I are in love.
(A dead silence. George looks up from his paper.)
GEORGE Did this happen on the facebooks?
--
Aware of the cultural barriers that prevented my students from being knowledgeable of hula, I attempted to teach them an accurate yet simple routine.
I believe that the absence of abstract thinking and the absence of absolute control of their motor skills created the greatest obstacles.
--
I was thinking about applying the "monster cul¬ture" lens to the Joker, and also applying a "herculture" philosophy to Batman, the hero's a culture employs reveal just as much as the monsters/villains it employs.
