If voting changed anything, they’d make it illegal.
— Emma Goldman
The state produces hate speech. ― Judith Butler
“Oh damn I wish that I were” by Marilyn Monroe (via)
Oh damn I wish that I were
dead — absolutely nonexistent –
gone away from here — from
everywhere but how would I
There is always bridges — the Brooklyn
But I love that bridge (everything is beautiful from
there and the air is so clean) walking it seems
peaceful even with all those
cars going crazy underneath. So
it would have to be some other bridge
an ugly one and with no view — except
I like in particular all bridges — there’s some-
thing about them and besides I’ve
never seen an ugly bridge
Living in the Sierra Nevada de Santa Marta in northern Colombia, the Kogi believe that the cosmos is shaped like an egg, and they build temples that replicate this. Kogi temples are circular buildings with walls of upright posts, capped by a thatched conical roof. In these temples, by the flickering lights of hearths or torches, Kogi boys are trained to be priests.
Initiates into the Kogi priesthood undergo an extensive apprenticeship; chosen when they are only two or three years old, their apprenticeship lasts some eighteen years. During this time, the initiates are kept indoors, hidden from the Sun, and only allowed to eat foods that are white: manioc, white beans, potatoes, land snails, freshwater shrimp and mushrooms. Their food is boiled in a breast-shaped clay pot. The initiates are forbidden to eat salt or the meat of game. They are deprived of food, sleep, sunlight and sex.
Over the years of apprenticeship, the initiates are taught the Law of the Mother. This canon of ritual knowledge involves learning special ceremonial languages, distinct vocabularies and modes of rhetoric. Kogi mámas-in-training learn curing spells and the art of interpreting dreams.
“Did you ever see a house move? If you have not, you have missed a very funny sight.”
Via The New Yorker
THE BELIEVER: You had that great line in your New Yorker profile, “Sometimes what people perceive as my smile is a grimace of pain.”
HAROLD RAMIS: That about sums it up. But part of my smile is also about how absurd it all is. I think I got in touch with that absurdity quite young….