"The sea is the sea. The old man is an old man. The boy is a boy and the fish is a fish. The sharks are all sharks no better and no worse. All the symbolism that people say is shit."
"Ik moest denken aan Seneca's Over de Woede, een verhandeling die de Romeinse senator had geschreven ten behoeve van keizer Nero, en vooral aan zijn stelling dat aan woede eerst en vooral hoop ten grondslag ligt. We worden kwaad doordat we al te optimistisch zijn en niet voldoende voorbereid op de frustraties die onlosmakelijk met het bestaan zijn verbonden. Iemand die het telkens weer uitschreeuwt wanneer hij zijn sleutels heeft verloren of wordt weggestuurd op de luchthaven geeft blijk van een ontroerend maar onverbeterlijk naïef geloof in een wereld waar sleutels nooit zoek raken en onze reisplannen gegarandeerd worden verwezenlijkt."
Alain de Botton, Een week op de luchthaven, Atlas, Amsterdam, 2009
Periodicals of note include Krotch (going for $29 a copy!), Zord (at $30), Moni, Bash, Creative Evolution, and Droid. Horn, the "skin mag" of the future, had a cover which offered articles such as "The Cosmic Orgasm" and "Hot Lust in Space." Kill (whose logo was "All the News That's Fit to Kill") sported cover stories like "Multiple Murders - Reader's Own Photos."Sommige van die boekjes zouden ook nu al best goed verkopen. Of kun je nu zelfs al kopen.
“We’re all golden sunflowers inside.”
Uit: Allen Ginsberg (1926-1997), Sunflower Sutra (hier hoor je Ginsberg de volledige Sutra voordragen).
The club kept the trophy-but unfortunately financial problems forced them to pawn it to the landlady of a local pub. It wasn't until 1960 that a local village appeal raised the funds necessary to return the cup to the football club. But sadly in 1994 (and like the FA Cup and the World Cup), the cup was stolen and, despite offering £2,000 as a reward for recovering it, the Sir Thomas Lipton Trophy was never recovered. A replica is on display in the West Auckland Working Men’s Club, (meer hier).
85 Patronen verfeuerten Polizeibeamte in Deutschland im Jahr 2011 bundesweit auf der Jagd nach Verbrechern, 49 davon waren Warnschüsse. 36-mal gaben die Polizisten gezielte Schüsse ab. Dabei wurden 15 Personen verletzt und sechs getötet, wie aus einer Statistik der Deutschen Hochschule der Polizei im westfälischen Münster hervorgeht, (Der Spiegel, 08.05.2012).
"I won't be wronged. I won't be insulted, and I won't be laid a hands on. I don't do these things to other people and I expect the same from them."
John Wayne als John Bernard Books (prentje) in The Shootist.
The only reason for time is so that everything doesn't happen at once.En ruimte is er omdat anders alles op dezelfde plaats zou gebeuren, zeker? Ja, ja. Doe ons dan ook maar een Nobelprijs natuurkunde.
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The story of Like A Rolling Stone is a story of creative insight. It took only a few seconds before a mental block became a work of art. In a 1966 interview with Playboy, Dylan assessed the impact of the sudden breakthrough on his music. "Last spring, I guess I was going to quit singing," he said. "But Like A Rolling Stone changed it all: I didn't care any more about writing books or poems or whatever. I mean, here was something that I myself could dig."(Het heeft, begrijpen we, iets met de twee helften van het brein te maken. In het ene deel nemen we de dingen letterlijk, in het andere nemen we met dat letterlijk nemen een loopje. Soms moet je, in plaats van heel erg rationeel en analytisch te zijn, de dingen dus gewoon loslaten en dan neemt de meer anarchistische hersenhelft het over en komen er, hopla, nieuwe gedachten vrij. Si non è vero, ...)
What Dylan dug was the strangeness of the song, the way it sounded like nothing else on the radio. In that lonely cabin, he found a way to fully express himself, to transform the fragments of art in his head into a new kind of song. He wasn't just writing a pop single – he was rewriting the possibilities of music.
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"Just as we were having our pictures taken for the rogues' gallery, along came Mr. Slattery the deputy and I nailed him and began to talk fast. 'Mr. Slattery,' I said, 'I'm colored, even if I don't look it, and I don't think I'd get along in the white blocks, and besides, there might be some friends of mine in Block Six and they'd keep me out of trouble'. Mr. Slattery jumped back, astounded, and studied my features real hard. He seemed a little relieved when he saw my nappy head. 'I guess we can arrange that,' he said. 'Well, well, so you're Mezzrow. I read about you in the papers long ago and I've been wondering when you'd get here. We need a good leader for our band and I think you're just the man for the job'. He slipped me a card with 'Block Six' written on it. I felt like I'd got a reprieve."
