thingamabobbseys

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thingamabobbseys

a miscellaneous assortment of things

  • Hello, Martians. Let Moby-Dick Explain

    Explaining America to Martians.

    Tagged: USA alien america books humanity lit literature margaret atwood martian moby dick new york times culture

    Posted on May 1, 2012

    Source: The New York Times

  • Superman didn’t become Superman. Superman was born Superman. When Superman wakes up in the morning, he’s Superman. His alter ego is Clark Kent. His outfit with the big red “S”, that’s the blanket he was wrapped in as a baby when the Kents found him. Those are his clothes. What Kent wears - the glasses, the business suit - that’s the costume. That’s the costume Superman wears to blend in with us. Clark Kent is how Superman views us. And what are the characteristics of Clark Kent. He’s weak… he’s unsure of himself… he’s a coward. Clark Kent is Superman’s critique on the whole human race.

    Quentin Tarantino

    Tagged: quotes quentin tarantino superman clark kent human coward humanity

    Posted on April 19, 2012 with 28 notes

  • Recueillement [Contemplation] by Charles Baudelaire

    Be wise, O my Sorrow, be calmer.

    You implored the evening; it falls; here it is:

    A dusky air surrounds the town,

    Bringing peace to some, worry to others.

    Whilst the worthless crowd of humanity,

    Lashed by Pleasure, that merciless torturer,

    Go to gather remorse in slavish rejoicing,

    Give me your hand, my Sorrow; come with me,

    Far from them. See the dead years leaning,

    In worn-out clothing, on the balconies of the skies;

    See how Regret, grinning, rises from the deep waters;

    The dying sun goes to sleep in an archway,

    And, like a long shroud dragging from the East,

    Hear, O my dear one, hear the soft night coming.

    Sois sage, ô ma Douleur, et tiens-toi plus tranquille.
    Tu réclamais le Soir; il descend; le voici:
    Une atmosphère obscure enveloppe la ville,
    Aux uns portant la paix, aux autres le souci.


    Pendant que des mortels la multitude vile,
    Sous le fouet du Plaisir, ce bourreau sans merci,
    Va cueillir des remords dans la fête servile,
    Ma Douleur, donne-moi la main; viens par ici,


    Loin d’eux. Vois se pencher les défuntes Années,
    Sur les balcons du ciel, en robes surannées;
    Surgir du fond des eaux le Regret souriant;


    Le soleil moribond s’endormir sous une arche,
    Et, comme un long linceul traînant à l’Orient,
    Entends, ma chère, entends la douce Nuit qui marche.

    Tagged: poetry verse recueillement french charles baudelaire contemplation sorrow humanity regret calm

    Posted on April 10, 2012

  • Life is to be lived, not controlled; and humanity is won by continuing to play in face of certain defeat.

    Ralph Ellison

    Tagged: quotes quote life live humanity play defeat fight win control ralph ellison invisible man lit literature

    Posted on March 4, 2012 with 8 notes

  • Bukowski- Dinosauria, We

    Born like this
    Into this
    As the chalk faces smile
    As Mrs. Death laughs
    As the elevators break
    As political landscapes dissolve
    As the supermarket bag boy holds a college degree
    As the oily fish spit out their oily prey
    As the sun is masked
    We are
    Born like this
    Into this
    Into these carefully mad wars
    Into the sight of broken factory windows of emptiness
    Into bars where people no longer speak to each other
    Into fist fights that end as shootings and knifings
    Born into this
    Into hospitals which are so expensive that it’s cheaper to die
    Into lawyers who charge so much it’s cheaper to plead guilty
    Into a country where the jails are full and the madhouses closed
    Into a place where the masses elevate fools into rich heroes
    Born into this
    Walking and living through this
    Dying because of this
    Muted because of this
    Castrated
    Debauched
    Disinherited
    Because of this
    Fooled by this
    Used by this
    Pissed on by this
    Made crazy and sick by this
    Made violent
    Made inhuman
    By this
    The heart is blackened
    The fingers reach for the throat
    The gun
    The knife
    The bomb
    The fingers reach toward an unresponsive god
    The fingers reach for the bottle
    The pill
    The powder
    We are born into this sorrowful deadliness
    We are born into a government 60 years in debt
    That soon will be unable to even pay the interest on that debt
    And the banks will burn
    Money will be useless
    There will be open and unpunished murder in the streets
    It will be guns and roving mobs
    Land will be useless
    Food will become a diminishing return
    Nuclear power will be taken over by the many
    Explosions will continually shake the earth
    Radiated robot men will stalk each other
    The rich and the chosen will watch from space platforms
    Dante’s Inferno will be made to look like a children’s playground
    The sun will not be seen and it will always be night
    Trees will die
    All vegetation will die
    Radiated men will eat the flesh of radiated men
    The sea will be poisoned
    The lakes and rivers will vanish
    Rain will be the new gold
    The rotting bodies of men and animals will stink in the dark wind
    The last few survivors will be overtaken by new and hideous diseases
    And the space platforms will be destroyed by attrition
    The petering out of supplies
    The natural effect of general decay
    And there will be the most beautiful silence never heard
    Born out of that.
    The sun still hidden there
    Awaiting the next chapter.

    Tagged: poetry bukowski charles bukowski beat poet life dinosauria we humanity death

    Posted on February 18, 2012 with 5 notes

  • It is a slightly arresting notion that if you were to pick yourself apart with tweezers, one atom at a time, you would produce a mound of fine atomic dust, none of which had ever been alive but all of which had once been you.

    Bill Bryson (A Short History of Nearly Everything)

    Tagged: author bill bryson books history human humanity literature mind-blowing philosophy physics quotes science fact factoid knowledge

    Posted on July 26, 2011 with 8 notes

  • Don’t let us forget that the causes of human actions are usually immeasurably more complex and varied than our subsequent explanations of them.

    Fyodor Dostoyevsky (The Idiot)

    Tagged: dostoevsky dostoyevsky the idiot literature author russian lit book humanity quotes prose books novel saying

    Posted on July 21, 2011 with 868 notes

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