irreplaceable
"Now it was there. Now it grew out of me like a tumor, like a second head and it was part of me, though it could not belong to me at all, because it was so big. It was there like a huge, dead beast, that had once, when it was still alive, been my hand or arm. And my blood flowed both through me and through it, as if through one and the same body. And my heart had to make a great effort to drive the blood into the Big Thing; there was hardly enough blood. And the blood entered the Big Thing unwillingly and came back sick and tained. But the Big Thing swelled and grew over my face like a warm bluish boil and grew over my mouth, and already the shadow of its edge lay upon my remaining eye." --Rainer Maria Rilke
"Maybe there is no Heaven. Or maybe this is all pure gibberish--a product of the demented imagination of a lazy drunken hillbilly with a heart full of hate who has found out a way to live out there where the real winds blow--to sleep late, have fun, get wild, drink whiskey and drive fast on empty streets with nothing in mind except falling in love and not getting arrested.
Res ipsa loquitur. Let the good times roll."--Hunter S. Thompson
***
Amy Goodman just announced the suicide of Hunter S. Thompson.
Fuck-in-Hell. Hope is dwindling.
***
Though anyone who reads this will most likely be aware of who he was and what he stood for, I would still like to mention:
That clever man drilled his curiosity into the bedrock of the world, and worked hard to educate the masses with what he discovered. He carved out quite an exisitence, living 25 lifetimes in one.
He was the epitome of AMERICAN, shouting into the wind as if it could make a difference in the direction the great gust was blowing.
I for one will miss the priviledge of reading his wit and insight.
"Maybe there is no Heaven. Or maybe this is all pure gibberish--a product of the demented imagination of a lazy drunken hillbilly with a heart full of hate who has found out a way to live out there where the real winds blow--to sleep late, have fun, get wild, drink whiskey and drive fast on empty streets with nothing in mind except falling in love and not getting arrested.
Res ipsa loquitur. Let the good times roll."--Hunter S. Thompson
***
Amy Goodman just announced the suicide of Hunter S. Thompson.
Fuck-in-Hell. Hope is dwindling.
***
Though anyone who reads this will most likely be aware of who he was and what he stood for, I would still like to mention:
That clever man drilled his curiosity into the bedrock of the world, and worked hard to educate the masses with what he discovered. He carved out quite an exisitence, living 25 lifetimes in one.
He was the epitome of AMERICAN, shouting into the wind as if it could make a difference in the direction the great gust was blowing.
I for one will miss the priviledge of reading his wit and insight.