Saturday, July 05, 2003
Have You Ever Considered Inhaling Glue? If Yes, Pay Attention Here!
I said "no" to drugs, but the drugs wouldn't listen.
I said "no" to drugs, but the drugs wouldn't listen.
A few more literary attacks:
Fitzgerald was an alcoholic, a spendthrift and a superstar playboy possesed of a beauty and a glamour that only Byron could support without artistic ruination. -- Anthony Burgess
I readily see in Emerson a gaping flaw. It was the insinuation that had he lived in those days when the world was made, he might have offerd some valuable suggestions. -- Herman Melville
[Edward] Gibbon is an ugly disaffected, disgusting fellow, and poisons our literary club for me. I class him among infidel wasps and venemous insects. -- James Boswell (I like that one).
[Aldous] Huxley was one of those people who had to perpetrate thirty bad novels before producing one good one.--TS Eliot
They will drown in their own blood -- Saddam Hussein referring to the coalition forces at the start of the Gulf conflict, 1990.
All...moral principles are idle fancies -- Marquis de Sade
I have tried to read Shakespeare lately and have found it so intolerably dull that it nauseated me. -- Charles Darwin
[Oscar Wilde] was over-dressed, pompous, snobbish, sentimental and vain. -- Evelyn Waugh
Jane Austen was a hoe, and Dickens was an ass-pirate. -- Horace Egerton
Fitzgerald was an alcoholic, a spendthrift and a superstar playboy possesed of a beauty and a glamour that only Byron could support without artistic ruination. -- Anthony Burgess
I readily see in Emerson a gaping flaw. It was the insinuation that had he lived in those days when the world was made, he might have offerd some valuable suggestions. -- Herman Melville
[Edward] Gibbon is an ugly disaffected, disgusting fellow, and poisons our literary club for me. I class him among infidel wasps and venemous insects. -- James Boswell (I like that one).
[Aldous] Huxley was one of those people who had to perpetrate thirty bad novels before producing one good one.--TS Eliot
They will drown in their own blood -- Saddam Hussein referring to the coalition forces at the start of the Gulf conflict, 1990.
All...moral principles are idle fancies -- Marquis de Sade
I have tried to read Shakespeare lately and have found it so intolerably dull that it nauseated me. -- Charles Darwin
[Oscar Wilde] was over-dressed, pompous, snobbish, sentimental and vain. -- Evelyn Waugh
Jane Austen was a hoe, and Dickens was an ass-pirate. -- Horace Egerton
Give Me A Little Bit Of Your Love, Baby; Or, A Vision in a Dream. A Fragment
The following fragment is here published in the memory of an obese sex machine of great and deserved celebrity, and, as far as the Author's own opinons are concerned, rather as a psychological curiosity, than on the ground of any supposed biographical merits.
In the summer of the year 2003, the Author, then in ill health, had retired to his parent's house. In consequence of a slight indisposition, an anodyne had been prescribed, from the effects of which he grew incapable of properly controlling internet technology. The Author continued for about three minutes in a profound confusion, during which time he has the most vivid confidence, that he could have not composed less than three hundred or four hundred lines in tribute of the dead singer of schlocky soul music, Barry White.
After the three minutes had concluded, he seemed to have little recollection of the whole. Returning again, to his no small surprise and mortification, that though he retained some vague and dim recollection of the general pruport of the vision, yet with the exception of some eight or ten scattered lines and images, all the rest had passed away like the images on the surface of a stream into which a stone has been cast, but fuck! without the restoration after the birth. (Sorry STC).
POEM WILL BE ADDED...
(please excuse the geeky english lit, in-jokes)
The following fragment is here published in the memory of an obese sex machine of great and deserved celebrity, and, as far as the Author's own opinons are concerned, rather as a psychological curiosity, than on the ground of any supposed biographical merits.
In the summer of the year 2003, the Author, then in ill health, had retired to his parent's house. In consequence of a slight indisposition, an anodyne had been prescribed, from the effects of which he grew incapable of properly controlling internet technology. The Author continued for about three minutes in a profound confusion, during which time he has the most vivid confidence, that he could have not composed less than three hundred or four hundred lines in tribute of the dead singer of schlocky soul music, Barry White.
After the three minutes had concluded, he seemed to have little recollection of the whole. Returning again, to his no small surprise and mortification, that though he retained some vague and dim recollection of the general pruport of the vision, yet with the exception of some eight or ten scattered lines and images, all the rest had passed away like the images on the surface of a stream into which a stone has been cast, but fuck! without the restoration after the birth. (Sorry STC).
POEM WILL BE ADDED...
(please excuse the geeky english lit, in-jokes)
Friday, July 04, 2003
Lost Thoughts and Links
I wrote a long eulogy to Barry White, but it got lost in the netherworld of cyberspace, so here are some links (I'll write more about Barry tomorrow):
Want to vote on the best dictator of the twentieth century? (My vote went to the dictator of the Central African Republic because he drank blood and ate babies).
Or perhaps you are interested in joining ECKANKAR (The Religion of the Light and Sound of God) so you can chant HU-U-U-U? (There is a BC chapter that meets in Burnaby twice a month).
For all you sports fans, you can learn more about Panadorn Srichaphan [sic] and the world'd most prestigious tennis tournament.
(Thanks blog-queen...I mean fairy).
I wrote a long eulogy to Barry White, but it got lost in the netherworld of cyberspace, so here are some links (I'll write more about Barry tomorrow):
Want to vote on the best dictator of the twentieth century? (My vote went to the dictator of the Central African Republic because he drank blood and ate babies).
Or perhaps you are interested in joining ECKANKAR (The Religion of the Light and Sound of God) so you can chant HU-U-U-U? (There is a BC chapter that meets in Burnaby twice a month).
For all you sports fans, you can learn more about Panadorn Srichaphan [sic] and the world'd most prestigious tennis tournament.
(Thanks blog-queen...I mean fairy).
Barry White RIP 1944-2003
Thursday, July 03, 2003
Some basic beliefs of ECKANKAR (a cult that is based in Minnesota and worships me):
-Soul is eternal and is the individual's true identity.
-Soul exists because God loves It.
-Soul is on a journey of Self- and God-Realization.
-Spiritual unfoldment can be accelerated through conscious contact with the
CK, Divine Spirit.
-This contact can be made via the Spiritual Exercises of ECK and the
-guidance of the Living ECK Master.
-The Mahanta, the Living ECK Master is the spiritual leader of Eckankar.
-Spiritual experience and liberation in this lifetime are available to all.
- You can actively explore the spiritual worlds through Soul Travel, dreams,
and other spiritual techniques.
Remember, if you want to pray to The Living ECK Master, his name is Mahanta Harold Klemp. Just in case you are interested in official ECKANKAR participation, you can buy a lifetime membership for a reasonable price (about $160.00).
-Soul is eternal and is the individual's true identity.
-Soul exists because God loves It.
-Soul is on a journey of Self- and God-Realization.
-Spiritual unfoldment can be accelerated through conscious contact with the
CK, Divine Spirit.
-This contact can be made via the Spiritual Exercises of ECK and the
-guidance of the Living ECK Master.
-The Mahanta, the Living ECK Master is the spiritual leader of Eckankar.
-Spiritual experience and liberation in this lifetime are available to all.
- You can actively explore the spiritual worlds through Soul Travel, dreams,
and other spiritual techniques.
Remember, if you want to pray to The Living ECK Master, his name is Mahanta Harold Klemp. Just in case you are interested in official ECKANKAR participation, you can buy a lifetime membership for a reasonable price (about $160.00).
Which Writers are Wankstas?
OK, no more geeky fictional pseudo-historical dialogue...but we all enjoy it when rappers diss each other, right? So how about writers. Here are some famous literary attacks:
[Matthew Arnold] is not as handsome as his photographs -- or his poetry. - Henry James
The high watermark of Socialist literature is WH Auden, a sort of gutless Kipling. -- George Orwell
[Arnold Bennet] a sort of pig in clover. -- DH Lawrence
Browning used words with the violence of a horse-breaker, giving out the scent of a he-goat. -- Ford Madox Ford
[Robert Browning] might have passed for a politician, or a financier, or a diplomatist or, indeed, for anything but a poet. -- George William Russel
[Edmund Burke] was damned wrong-headed fellow, through his whole life jealous and onstinate. -- Charles Fox
Mad, bad, and dangerous to know. -- William Lamb on Byron
Is Browning a wanksta? -- it would appear so. Stay Tuned for more.
On the topic of rappers, I would like to start a pool, betting on when 50 cent will be murdered. If you're interested let me know. Honestly, I hope he sticks around; I learned he has bullet in his tongue, which explains his slurry voice: and that's cool. To paraphrase Neil Young, "Long may he thug." (I kind of picked those quotations at random, so I'll try to find some better ones soon...Fucking writers).
OK, no more geeky fictional pseudo-historical dialogue...but we all enjoy it when rappers diss each other, right? So how about writers. Here are some famous literary attacks:
[Matthew Arnold] is not as handsome as his photographs -- or his poetry. - Henry James
The high watermark of Socialist literature is WH Auden, a sort of gutless Kipling. -- George Orwell
[Arnold Bennet] a sort of pig in clover. -- DH Lawrence
Browning used words with the violence of a horse-breaker, giving out the scent of a he-goat. -- Ford Madox Ford
[Robert Browning] might have passed for a politician, or a financier, or a diplomatist or, indeed, for anything but a poet. -- George William Russel
[Edmund Burke] was damned wrong-headed fellow, through his whole life jealous and onstinate. -- Charles Fox
Mad, bad, and dangerous to know. -- William Lamb on Byron
Is Browning a wanksta? -- it would appear so. Stay Tuned for more.
On the topic of rappers, I would like to start a pool, betting on when 50 cent will be murdered. If you're interested let me know. Honestly, I hope he sticks around; I learned he has bullet in his tongue, which explains his slurry voice: and that's cool. To paraphrase Neil Young, "Long may he thug." (I kind of picked those quotations at random, so I'll try to find some better ones soon...Fucking writers).
Wednesday, July 02, 2003
The Marx Brothers Speak
A transcript of a dialogue between the two Marx brothers, Groucho and Karl:
Karl: Hello, is that my long lost brother, Groucho?
Groucho: No. Groucho is not my real name, I'm breaking it in for a friend.
Karl: I'm sure it's you.
Groucho: I never forget a face, but I'll make an exception in your case.
Karl: Groucho, that is you. It has been so long...Hegel says somewhere that all great events and personalities in world history reappear in one fashion or another. He forgot to add: the first time as a tragedy, the second as a farce.
Groucho: Yes, time wounds all heels.
Karl : Groucho, I must tell you about The Communist Manifesto.
Groucho: The what?
Karl: It is my book, in which I argue that the history of existing society is the history of class struggles. I also say that the workers have nothing to lose but their chains. Thay have the world to gain. Workers of the world, unite!
Groucho: Look at me, I worked my way up from nothing to a state of extreme poverty.
Karl: Yes, capitalist production begets, with the inexorability of a law of nature, its own negation.
Groucho: What?
Karl: I heard a rumour you were reviewing my book.
Groucho: I was so long reviewing the book, I didn't have time to read it.
Karl: Groucho [miffed]. But will you join the Communist party?
Groucho: I don't want to join any party that would have me as a member.
TO BE CONTINUED
A transcript of a dialogue between the two Marx brothers, Groucho and Karl:
Karl: Hello, is that my long lost brother, Groucho?
Groucho: No. Groucho is not my real name, I'm breaking it in for a friend.
Karl: I'm sure it's you.
Groucho: I never forget a face, but I'll make an exception in your case.
Karl: Groucho, that is you. It has been so long...Hegel says somewhere that all great events and personalities in world history reappear in one fashion or another. He forgot to add: the first time as a tragedy, the second as a farce.
Groucho: Yes, time wounds all heels.
Karl : Groucho, I must tell you about The Communist Manifesto.
Groucho: The what?
Karl: It is my book, in which I argue that the history of existing society is the history of class struggles. I also say that the workers have nothing to lose but their chains. Thay have the world to gain. Workers of the world, unite!
Groucho: Look at me, I worked my way up from nothing to a state of extreme poverty.
Karl: Yes, capitalist production begets, with the inexorability of a law of nature, its own negation.
Groucho: What?
Karl: I heard a rumour you were reviewing my book.
Groucho: I was so long reviewing the book, I didn't have time to read it.
Karl: Groucho [miffed]. But will you join the Communist party?
Groucho: I don't want to join any party that would have me as a member.
TO BE CONTINUED
Dearest Readers,
Welcome to my website, electricthought.blogspot.com. Read often; Read deep; Read shallow; Wear a condom.
(6.2%) You fill in the blank,
Hugh
Chief Contributor
Chief Editor
Welcome to my website, electricthought.blogspot.com. Read often; Read deep; Read shallow; Wear a condom.
(6.2%) You fill in the blank,
Hugh
Chief Contributor
Chief Editor
What Will End the Middle East Conflict
As I have consistently stated for several years now, the only viable solution to the crisis in the Middle East -- without a doubt one of the saddest things happening on this planet -- is mutually assured destruction. My proposal is this: the US should arm Israel with a massive arsenal of nuclear weapons; a nuclearally-capable Arab nation (like Pakistan) should arm the Palestinians with nukes too; the collective fear and confusion would, paradoxically, and undoubtedly, lead to peace and calm.
Of course there are those who will ask the silly question: well, what if these hostile countries use their nuclear weaponary? I respond: well, concerned global friend, if they did, the problem of the Middle East would also be eliminated -- actually, to be more specific, the entire Middle East would be eliminated. Either way: problem solved.
When do I get my job at the UN?
As I have consistently stated for several years now, the only viable solution to the crisis in the Middle East -- without a doubt one of the saddest things happening on this planet -- is mutually assured destruction. My proposal is this: the US should arm Israel with a massive arsenal of nuclear weapons; a nuclearally-capable Arab nation (like Pakistan) should arm the Palestinians with nukes too; the collective fear and confusion would, paradoxically, and undoubtedly, lead to peace and calm.
Of course there are those who will ask the silly question: well, what if these hostile countries use their nuclear weaponary? I respond: well, concerned global friend, if they did, the problem of the Middle East would also be eliminated -- actually, to be more specific, the entire Middle East would be eliminated. Either way: problem solved.
When do I get my job at the UN?
Tuesday, July 01, 2003
OUR LEAD STORY:
"Retarded" is OK
I think the word "retarded" has been unfairly stigmatized. Perhaps sometimes this word is used inappropriately, like when I was reading the second page of the Globe and Mail yesterday, and I saw a picture of two recently married gay men from Kansas Mo. who were holding hands on top of a limo in the Toronto pride parade, and they were obviously balding badly but had huge earrings and gigantic mullets, and I thought to myself: "this is retarded." In a good way)
As someone who has worked with those formerly known as mentally handicapped, occasionaly known as developmentally delayed, currently called special needs, and still, once in a while, called mongoloid (a term I hate because it makes me think of retarded Mongolians) for over five years (and I am now employed in that field), I think that I have earned my say in the naming of the correct terminolgy: so retarded it is.
There is, of course, absolutely nothing wrong with gay men from Kansas, Mo. in the Toronto pride parade; but when you add to that particular scenario balding mullets and big earrings, it gets a bit retarded. (Although pride parades, as a rule, also get a bit retarded too). I can explain later.
In the most recent New York Times Magazine is an article about how the Supreme Court in the US has ruled that it is unconstitutional to execute retarded prisoners. (I support this ruling). The article estimated that at least 2% of death row inmates are clinically retarded, and some could have their lives saved by this injunction. But, unfortunately, as they are retarded, and probably have retarded lawyers, and because there president is a sadistic retard, the process as a whole may be, shall we say, retarded.
There was another article in The New York Times Magazine (one of my favourite publications) about a championship bridge played who has developed a card strategy based on the "Objectivist" philosophy of Ayn Rand. Supposedly, he is doing very well. Interesting.
So do you support capital punishment and gay pride parades? I support both (but not at the same time, preferably). I think that some people like Paul Bernardo or Clifford Olson really don't have any place on this planet, and that they should be done away with. Unfortunately, we cannot trust the state with the right to kill its citizens (although it already does it anyway), and you asked me if I could do it, vigilante style, I would honestly (and humbly) say: no. And, as for the pride parades: a little tacky, a little retarded, but they have there place. Indeed.
Coming soon: More information on Thai phenom Paradorn Schirchaphan [sic].
"Retarded" is OK
I think the word "retarded" has been unfairly stigmatized. Perhaps sometimes this word is used inappropriately, like when I was reading the second page of the Globe and Mail yesterday, and I saw a picture of two recently married gay men from Kansas Mo. who were holding hands on top of a limo in the Toronto pride parade, and they were obviously balding badly but had huge earrings and gigantic mullets, and I thought to myself: "this is retarded." In a good way)
As someone who has worked with those formerly known as mentally handicapped, occasionaly known as developmentally delayed, currently called special needs, and still, once in a while, called mongoloid (a term I hate because it makes me think of retarded Mongolians) for over five years (and I am now employed in that field), I think that I have earned my say in the naming of the correct terminolgy: so retarded it is.
There is, of course, absolutely nothing wrong with gay men from Kansas, Mo. in the Toronto pride parade; but when you add to that particular scenario balding mullets and big earrings, it gets a bit retarded. (Although pride parades, as a rule, also get a bit retarded too). I can explain later.
In the most recent New York Times Magazine is an article about how the Supreme Court in the US has ruled that it is unconstitutional to execute retarded prisoners. (I support this ruling). The article estimated that at least 2% of death row inmates are clinically retarded, and some could have their lives saved by this injunction. But, unfortunately, as they are retarded, and probably have retarded lawyers, and because there president is a sadistic retard, the process as a whole may be, shall we say, retarded.
There was another article in The New York Times Magazine (one of my favourite publications) about a championship bridge played who has developed a card strategy based on the "Objectivist" philosophy of Ayn Rand. Supposedly, he is doing very well. Interesting.
So do you support capital punishment and gay pride parades? I support both (but not at the same time, preferably). I think that some people like Paul Bernardo or Clifford Olson really don't have any place on this planet, and that they should be done away with. Unfortunately, we cannot trust the state with the right to kill its citizens (although it already does it anyway), and you asked me if I could do it, vigilante style, I would honestly (and humbly) say: no. And, as for the pride parades: a little tacky, a little retarded, but they have there place. Indeed.
Coming soon: More information on Thai phenom Paradorn Schirchaphan [sic].
Hooray!, Finally More Info On Thai Phenom Panadron Sricharpahn [sic]
Before our lead story, some more information about Panadorn Schicharpahn [sic]: He is a devout Buddhist; his father is his coach; he is 24 years old; and for the girls (and gay men), he seems quite cute (if you are into that intensely religious-Thai sports phenom-who love his parents-and defeated Agassi at Wimbledon last year-kind of thing, which I am - but not in that way you pervert. (I think he is ranked 14th in the world, not that you care).
Also: I have been informed that ECKANKAR meets regularily at the Hilton in Seattle. If you are interested in chanting "HU" for a couple hours, my friend Jeff (a parking manager) might be able to get you free parking. Interested?
Before our lead story, some more information about Panadorn Schicharpahn [sic]: He is a devout Buddhist; his father is his coach; he is 24 years old; and for the girls (and gay men), he seems quite cute (if you are into that intensely religious-Thai sports phenom-who love his parents-and defeated Agassi at Wimbledon last year-kind of thing, which I am - but not in that way you pervert. (I think he is ranked 14th in the world, not that you care).
Also: I have been informed that ECKANKAR meets regularily at the Hilton in Seattle. If you are interested in chanting "HU" for a couple hours, my friend Jeff (a parking manager) might be able to get you free parking. Interested?
Monday, June 30, 2003
Do You Have Your Very Own Cult? I Do.
So I recently discovered that there is a world religion based on me -- imagine the shock. Well, ok, I should say that it is not exactly a religion but more cultish, although I gather it it is fairly large and has been around for at least 30 years.
How did come across this strange phenomenom?, you may ask. About three months ago, I was waiting for the 41st bus (a fairly regular occurence) when I happened to notice a yellow business card posted to the wall. It read: "HU...A Love Song to God. Singing HU can: Expand your awareness/ Help you experience divine love/ Heal a broken heart/ Offer solace during times of grief/ Bring peace and calm."
This tract is distributed by an organization called ECKANKAR (The religion of Light and Sound). ECKANKAR is lead by a spiritual guru named Harold Klemp. Funny, I know.
One of the main tenets of this bizzare cult is chanting my name. According to the cult pamphlet you should "with eyes open or closed, take a few deep breathes to relax. Then begin to sing 'HU (pronounced HU-U-U-U-U [like my name] in a long, drawn-out sound. Take another deep breath and sing HU again. Continue for up to 20 minutes [how fucking wierd]. Singing Hu with a feeling of love, and it will gradually open up your heart to God."
? is what I thought.
But how can this be? There has been people using my name as a sacred pathway to God for years without me even knowing it. In fact, according to Harry Klemp, every time you, my friend, have spoken my name, you have become closer to God. Fascinating.
If you wish to learn more about ECKANKAR call 1-800-Love-God. Or visit the website at Eckankar.org.
You might have the opportunity to be closer to God than you already are. But remember, every time you speak my name it is a holy experience. Would Harold Klemp lie?
So I recently discovered that there is a world religion based on me -- imagine the shock. Well, ok, I should say that it is not exactly a religion but more cultish, although I gather it it is fairly large and has been around for at least 30 years.
How did come across this strange phenomenom?, you may ask. About three months ago, I was waiting for the 41st bus (a fairly regular occurence) when I happened to notice a yellow business card posted to the wall. It read: "HU...A Love Song to God. Singing HU can: Expand your awareness/ Help you experience divine love/ Heal a broken heart/ Offer solace during times of grief/ Bring peace and calm."
This tract is distributed by an organization called ECKANKAR (The religion of Light and Sound). ECKANKAR is lead by a spiritual guru named Harold Klemp. Funny, I know.
One of the main tenets of this bizzare cult is chanting my name. According to the cult pamphlet you should "with eyes open or closed, take a few deep breathes to relax. Then begin to sing 'HU (pronounced HU-U-U-U-U [like my name] in a long, drawn-out sound. Take another deep breath and sing HU again. Continue for up to 20 minutes [how fucking wierd]. Singing Hu with a feeling of love, and it will gradually open up your heart to God."
? is what I thought.
But how can this be? There has been people using my name as a sacred pathway to God for years without me even knowing it. In fact, according to Harry Klemp, every time you, my friend, have spoken my name, you have become closer to God. Fascinating.
If you wish to learn more about ECKANKAR call 1-800-Love-God. Or visit the website at Eckankar.org.
You might have the opportunity to be closer to God than you already are. But remember, every time you speak my name it is a holy experience. Would Harold Klemp lie?
Oh Yeah, The War in Iraq
Speaking of Americans, where do we all stand on the war in Iraq right now? Personally, I am leaning towards supporting it. I did attend two peace marches; I am generally fairly liberal (I guess); but I have my suspicions about certain elements of peace activism right now.
For example: 10 million protested a potential war in Iraq, but how many people protested when Saddam Hussein slaughterd hundreds of thousands of people in his own country. Not very many I would guess. Why?
I can understand that the protests stemmed, in large part, from a backlash against American imperialism and miltarism; this is a sentiment I share. But George W. Bush is not the only enemy, and sometimes Canadians forget that.
Speaking of Americans, where do we all stand on the war in Iraq right now? Personally, I am leaning towards supporting it. I did attend two peace marches; I am generally fairly liberal (I guess); but I have my suspicions about certain elements of peace activism right now.
For example: 10 million protested a potential war in Iraq, but how many people protested when Saddam Hussein slaughterd hundreds of thousands of people in his own country. Not very many I would guess. Why?
I can understand that the protests stemmed, in large part, from a backlash against American imperialism and miltarism; this is a sentiment I share. But George W. Bush is not the only enemy, and sometimes Canadians forget that.
The Thai Underdog (hey, that could be a really terrible name for an alternative rock band)
My new favourite tennis player is Panador Scharichaphan [sic]. He is the first really successful tennis player from Thailand, a country with almost no tennis history, competive tennis, or even tennis courts. He is the true underdog of underdogs.
I always cheer for underdogs. I think it is more fun. A psychiatrist I met at a party once told me that he always cheered for the favourite because it was more likely to be reaffirming. How fucking insecure.
So why do I (almost) always cheer for the underdog? Maybe I see myself as one; or, possibly, I like the possiblity of fucking with fate, probablity, expectations. Maybe both.
Maybe I just like watching the arrogance of the favoured competitor crumble. Maybe I like the fact the commentator mispronounced his name as Scaharichporn. And that sounds like some kind of kinky Thai porn.
Unfortunately, my new friend lost at Wimbeldon today to young the American (favourite) Andy Roddick. Fucking Americans.
My new favourite tennis player is Panador Scharichaphan [sic]. He is the first really successful tennis player from Thailand, a country with almost no tennis history, competive tennis, or even tennis courts. He is the true underdog of underdogs.
I always cheer for underdogs. I think it is more fun. A psychiatrist I met at a party once told me that he always cheered for the favourite because it was more likely to be reaffirming. How fucking insecure.
So why do I (almost) always cheer for the underdog? Maybe I see myself as one; or, possibly, I like the possiblity of fucking with fate, probablity, expectations. Maybe both.
Maybe I just like watching the arrogance of the favoured competitor crumble. Maybe I like the fact the commentator mispronounced his name as Scaharichporn. And that sounds like some kind of kinky Thai porn.
Unfortunately, my new friend lost at Wimbeldon today to young the American (favourite) Andy Roddick. Fucking Americans.
"Destroyed by Madness, Starving Hysterical Naked"
I was recently reading a book of quotations and wrote down a couple that I liked. Here are a few:
I have nothing to say, I am saying it, that is poetry.
- John Cage
Our lives are merely strange dark interludes in the electric display of God the father.
- Eugene O'Neill
It is not that I'm afraid to die, I just don't want to be there when it happens.
- Woody Allen
I don't want to achieve immortality through my work, I want to achieve it through not dying.
- Woody Allen
Most of the change we observe in life is due to truths being in and out of favour.
- Robert Frost
An intellectual is someone whose mind watches itself.
- Albert Camus
Those who God wishes to destroy, he first makes mad.
- Euripedes
I saw the best minds of my generation destroyed by madness, starving hystercal mad.
- Allen Ginsberg
N.B. I'm not sure how to establish links, but there was something on MSN yesterday about dogs doing yoga. Check it out if possible.
I was recently reading a book of quotations and wrote down a couple that I liked. Here are a few:
I have nothing to say, I am saying it, that is poetry.
- John Cage
Our lives are merely strange dark interludes in the electric display of God the father.
- Eugene O'Neill
It is not that I'm afraid to die, I just don't want to be there when it happens.
- Woody Allen
I don't want to achieve immortality through my work, I want to achieve it through not dying.
- Woody Allen
Most of the change we observe in life is due to truths being in and out of favour.
- Robert Frost
An intellectual is someone whose mind watches itself.
- Albert Camus
Those who God wishes to destroy, he first makes mad.
- Euripedes
I saw the best minds of my generation destroyed by madness, starving hystercal mad.
- Allen Ginsberg
N.B. I'm not sure how to establish links, but there was something on MSN yesterday about dogs doing yoga. Check it out if possible.
In the Beginning There was the Thought
Electric Thought is live:
Welcome to my blog kids.
So you might be asking: what the fuck is Electric Thought, and why should I give a shi'ite Muslim about it? Well, maybe you you shouldn't care. Perhaps you should carry on with your sad, pathetic, unfufilling lives, unaware of the raw energy of the human imagination. Or, maybe, this blog is what you need; it is your only hope; like what a rainstorm is to a country in famine, this blog will penetrate you vacant soul, and fill you with an understanding of the undeniable thrill of human existence.
An invitation: come friend, read, question...but not in the bathtub.
Electric Thought is live:
Welcome to my blog kids.
So you might be asking: what the fuck is Electric Thought, and why should I give a shi'ite Muslim about it? Well, maybe you you shouldn't care. Perhaps you should carry on with your sad, pathetic, unfufilling lives, unaware of the raw energy of the human imagination. Or, maybe, this blog is what you need; it is your only hope; like what a rainstorm is to a country in famine, this blog will penetrate you vacant soul, and fill you with an understanding of the undeniable thrill of human existence.
An invitation: come friend, read, question...but not in the bathtub.
