EDWARD R. MURROW
No one man can terrorize a whole nation unless we are all his accomplices.
Friday, May 31, 2024
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Thursday, May 30, 2024
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Wednesday, May 29, 2024
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Tuesday, May 28, 2024
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Monday, May 27, 2024
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Sunday, May 26, 2024
MARGUERITE DURAS
The Malady of Death [opening line]
You wouldn't have known her, you'd have seen her everywhere at once, in a hotel, in a street, in a train, in a bar, in a book, in a film, in yourself, your inmost self, when your sex grew erect at night, seeking somewhere to put itself, somewhere to shed its load of tears.
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Saturday, May 25, 2024
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MARGUERITE DURAS
The Malady of Death
Sometimes you pace the room, around the bed or along the walls by the sea.
Sometimes you weep.
Sometimes you go out on the terrace in the growing cold.
You don't know what's in the sleep of the girl in the bed.
You'd like to start from that body and get back to the bodies of others, to your own, to get back to yourself.
And yet it is because you must do this that you weep.
Friday, May 24, 2024
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JENNIFER LAWRENCE
2024 GLAAD Media Awards Speech
I love the gay community. In fact, I was in love with a homosexual. He was my first love. I tried to convert him for years, but now I know conversion therapy doesn't work.
Did you hear me, Mike Pence? I said conversion therapy isn't real. Even though I know you think it worked on you.
You know, he’s in New York tonight. He’s receiving a Kids Choice Award for weirdest dick.
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Thursday, May 23, 2024
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SAMUEL BECKETT
The Unnamable
The Unnamable
Not to be able to open my mouth without proclaiming them, and our fellowship, that’s what they imagine they’ll have me reduced to. It’s a poor trick that consists in ramming a set of words down your gullet on the principle that you can’t bring them up without being branded as belonging to their breed. But I’ll fix their gibberish for them. I never understood a word of it in any case, not a word of the stories it spews, like gobbets in a vomit. My inability to absorb, my genius for forgetting, are more than they reckoned with. Dear incomprehension, it’s thanks to you I’ll be myself, in the end. Nothing will remain of all the lies they have gutted me with. And I’ll be myself at last, as a starveling belches his odourless wind, before the bliss of coma.
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Wednesday, May 22, 2024
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Regenesis - Feeding The World Without Devouring The Planet
After the Civil War battle at Shiloh, Tennessee, in 1862, thousands of injured soldiers were left lying in the mud, in some cases for two days and two nights, as the number of casualties on both sides was so great that it overwhelmed their armies' capacity to retrieve and treat them. Many died from their injuries and the consequent infections.
But at night, some of the injured men noticed a strange blue glow emanating from their wounds. Their ghostly penumbra could be seen from a distance. Field surgeons observed that the soldiers who luminesced healed more quickly and had a higher survival rate than those who didn't. They called it the Angel's Glow.
An explanation for the Angel's Glow was proposed 139 years later, when a seventeen-year-old high-school student, William Martin, acting on a hunch, persuaded his friend Jonathan Curtis to help him investigate. Their paper, which won a national science prize, argued that the soldiers appear to have been attacked by insect-eating nematodes in the soil contaminating their wounds. The nematodes regurgitated their bacteria, and the antibiotics these microbes produce are likely to have destroyed the other pathogens infecting the wounds.
Because the luminous bacteria have evolved to infect insects, whose body temperature is lower than that of humans, the students speculated that only hypothermic soldiers were inoculated. When they were brought in for treatment, and warmed up, the bacteria that had saved them died, preventing complications.
Tuesday, May 21, 2024
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WALLACE SHAWN
“Night” from Night Thoughts
Night is a wonderful blessing. It's amazing, and I'm so grateful for it. In the darkness, lying in bed, we can stop. To be able to stop-that's amazing. We can stop. We can think. Of course it's frightening too. We think of what may happen to us. We think about death. Murders and murderers stand around the bed. But night gives us a chance to consider the possibility that we can start again, that when day comes we can begin again in a different way.
The aggressiveness that has been our daily mode of being can't help us any more. We wake up and start massacring people whom we see as our enemies. We wake up and break into the earth with gigantic drills and terrifying explosions. We wake up and find our place in a monstrous final struggle. On the one side, there are all the lucky people, and on the other side, strangely allied together, we find all the unlucky people, plus the birds, the crickets, the ladybugs, the bees, the monkeys, the parrots, the forests, and the rivers. At the moment, the lucky people are clearly winning, and almost all the evidence seems to indicate that they'll ultimately prevail.
The nonhuman creatures and the unlucky people are running from place to place, gassed, strafed, shot at, booby-trapped, gasping for breath. And the living planet that we've blasted and bombed and injected with poison is now, like an enormous animal who's been tortured for hours by some horribly disturbed demented children, finally beginning to die, and its terrible groans are dreadful to hear. But the animal may not die, if we can convince the children, who are ourselves, to stop killing it. It's perhaps still a possibility that we might be able to stop being murderers. This could be our night, and during this night we might be able to stop. Stop. Think. And start again in a different way.
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Monday, May 20, 2024
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TOM WAITS
“Misery is the River of the World”
The higher that the monkey can climb
The more he shows his tail
Call no man happy 'till he dies
There's no milk at the bottom of the pail
God builds a church
The devil builds a chapel
Like the thistles that are growing
'Round the trunk of a tree
All the good in the world
You can put inside a thimble
And still have room for you and me
If there's one thing you can say about mankind
There's nothing kind about man
You can drive out nature with a pitch fork
But it always comes roaring back again
Misery's the river of the world
The higher that the monkey can climb
The more he shows his tail
Call no man happy 'till he dies
There's no milk at the bottom of the pail
God tempers all the ruins for the new shorn lands
The devil knows the Bible like the back of his hand
All the good in the world
You can put inside a thimble
And still have room for you and me
If there's one thing you can say about mankind
There's nothing kind about man
You can drive out nature with a pitch fork
But it always comes roaring back again
For want of a bird
The sky was lost
For want of a nail
A shoe was lost
For want of a life
A knife was lost
For want of a toy
A child was lost
And misery's the river of the world
Misery's the river of the world
Everybody row! Everybody row!
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