*Rubs hands* *Face-splitting grin*
YESSSSHH
That wasn’t me.
Nope.
All posterity shall note your vocabulary. The lust that consumes you shall be immortalized.
*Insane maniacal cackle*
*Rubs hands* *Face-splitting grin*
YESSSSHH
That wasn’t me.
Nope.
All posterity shall note your vocabulary. The lust that consumes you shall be immortalized.
*Insane maniacal cackle*
“It was a shock,” Dzeletovic says of the campaign. “We shot at each other once and now this comes from them.”
In Gorazde, on the other side of the ethnic boundary, Bosniak Senad Hubijer is amazed at how politicians are unwittingly contributing to ethnic reconciliation.
“When we were 16, politicians gave us guns and forced us to kill each other. Now, their ignorance is forcing us to help each other,” he said.
During the war, Hubijer could not have imagined that one day he could set foot in the nearby majority Serb town of Rogatica. Now he drives through that town when he goes to Sarajevo to protest against the government together with Serb veterans.
Veteran Nihad Grabovica, a Bosniak, can’t help but laugh at the historical irony.
“I am now helping the people who shot at me so they can feed their children,” he said.
“A Star!” Hedgehog stopped suddenly.
Owl almost tripped over him
and also stared at the sky.
“And there is a star in the puddle!” said Hedgehog to himself
as he saw the star’s reflection.
A few paces before him, a White Horse drifted out of the fog. “Interesting”, thought Hedgehog, “what if the Horse were to asleep, would it drown in the fog?”
Phonebook carvings by Cuban artist Alex Queral. Finally, somebody put phonebooks to good use.
Taking an ordinary phone book, Alex Queral carves a face into this object of so many faceless names. With the book, a very sharp X-ACTO® knife, a little pot of acrylic medium to set detail areas and a great deal of talent, Queral literally peels away the pages like the skin of an onion to reveal the portrait within.
“It’s a blow,” said David Hartwell, senior Middle East analyst at IHS Jane’s, adding that Iran may have discounted prices to keep the Chinese and Indians on their side. “If you have two major countries like India and China saying they will not abide by the sanctions, that’s going to keep a vital line open for the Iranians to continue to sidestep the sanctions and get foreign capital.”
“They wanted to sleep here for two months, to experience homelessness. They asked me about what it’s like to be homeless. I told them I wake up at 5am. I told them how I go to the bathroom at Starbucks in the morning. How I’m outside selling these papers for sixteen hours a day. How I ride the Red Line train from Shady Grove to Glenmont and back, back and forth, to get some sleep on the weekends, because that’s the safest place to sleep. How my entire day revolves around getting something to eat. Then I asked them about home. They told me they have a five-bedroom home in San Diego, a Mercedes, and a BMW. I asked the guy if he wanted to swap lives with me. He can stay in Freedom Plaza - I’ll go live in his house in San Diego. He gave me 50 bucks, and wished me well.”
They say you should never judge a book by its cover, but this poetry anthology has a freaking pterosaur on the front. It’s for one of my English Literature modules, and I was so very excited that we’d be studying dinosaur-related poetry.
So far, I have read a poem about the political opinions of peas. It was called ‘Peas’.
Disappointed.
A submission from fereshteh (blackflamedsun [at] gmail [dot] com), though I’ve wanted to feature him too: Ladislav Klima (1878 - 1928), an influential Czech writer brought into English by Twisted Spoon Press (who are also on tumblr!) in two books:
—The Sufferings of Price Sternenhoch (Twisted Spoon / Amazon)
—Glorious Nemesis (Twisted Spoon / Amazon)TS list three additional books as forthcoming: The Blind Snake’s Wanderings for Truth, I Am Absolute Will, Tales of Weirdness. Bio from the TS website:
Ladislav Klíma was born August 22, 1878, in the western Bohemian town of Domazlice. His father was a fairly well-to-do lawyer. At first a top student, he became steadily more rambunctious (he lost two brothers, both sisters, his mother and grandmother during his youth), and in 1895 he was expelled from gymnasium, and all the schools in the Austrian monarchy, for insulting the ruling Habsburg dynasty. He attended school in Zagreb at his father’s behest, but came home after only half a year resolved never to subject himself to formal education again. Adamantly refusing to engage in any sort of “normal” life as well, he lived alternately in the Tyrol, Zelezná Ruda in the Sumava Mountains, Zurich, and Prague, never seeking permanent employment, burning through any money he had inherited and living off the occasional royalty or the sporadic largesse of his friends. He settled in Prague’s Smíchov district where he wrote his first work in 1904, The World as Consciousness and Nothing (published anonymously and at his own expense), in which he makes the case that “the world” is nothing but a fiction. His major inspirations were Berkeley, Schopenhauer, Nietzsche, and the Czech symbolist poet Otokar Brezina. Klíma’s philosophy has been called radical subjective idealism, where all reality culminates in an absolute subject, and he developed this into the metaphysical systems of egosolism and deoessence (one fully understanding his substance and becoming the creator of his own divinity). These themes are also explored in his fictions, chief among which are The Sufferings of Prince Sternenhoch and Glorious Nemesis. His other major philosophical works are compilations of shorter texts: Tractates and Dictations (1922) and A Second and Eternity (1927). While only part of Klíma’s oeuvre was published during his lifetime, numerous manuscripts were edited and collected posthumously — stories, novels, plays, and a copious correspondence (it is estimated that Klíma, in a fit of disgust, destroyed some 90% of his unpublished manuscripts). And though his writing was marginalized and suppressed by the communist regime for many years it still managed to inspire a generation of underground artists and dissident intellectuals with its vision of one’s innate ability to achieve inner freedom, to pursue spiritual sovereignty through deoessence. As Jan Patocka put it : “He was our first, untimely absurdist thinker.” Klíma died of tuberculosis on April 19, 1928, and is buried in Prague.