You don’t even notice it as you step into the foyer, with a fake Chinese rubber plant and an old cigarette machine to greet you. . .To the right, a big calendar with numbers surrounded by Chinese characters and a feeling of otherworldly claustrophobia.
Argentinian author/philosopher Jorge Luis Borges examined why people hold certain beliefs, how those beliefs effect life choices, and how, occasionally, those tightly held and committed stances can be quite humorous.
These horrifying mutations brought about the Age of Permanent Safety, when the Blue Death was, the health experts informed us, still very little understood. They arranged their data to present, nonetheless, a frightening image of a steadily rising mortality rate, which helped persuade the public that the virus had evolved to attack not the immune system anymore, but the emotional and reasoning centers of the brain.
It all begins here with an utterance, a scrambled item of speech requiring brain time to reconstruct: “Two metres.” Grumbled and garbled, the words issue from a mask. A figure cocks its head autistically sideways. The manner resembles that of a bird, the way it jerks its little skull to look at you with just one eye. Picture that gull eyeing you as you take your lunch on a park bench, the way it indirectly sidles in your direction while you eat. Picture Norman Bates.
The systematic suppression and oppression of society’s shamans and prophets by the priestcraft of psychiatry, has not only been a catastrophe for these gifted individuals—
Approaching a poem written in another time and/or place, the translator faces a literal dilemma, a double problem of conflicting loyalties. . .
A Cerebramantic Age is upon us, an age characterized by mantic cerebralism—an inconsistent and incoherent mindset. . .
My tortured relationship with weed leads me down a sceptical blind alley regarding legalization. On the one hand, like psilocybin and LSD, its psychedelic effects can occasion experiences of euphoria and enlightenment. . .
The story of art and decadence is a never-ending one because economies succeed and fail, they go in cycles, and spaces are never permanently fit for purpose; meanwhile the human imagination is endlessly adaptable, and the need for emerging artists to find an opportunity, to fill a gap, is equally endless.
If we had an infallible intellect with its objective certitudes, we might feel ourselves disloyal to such a perfect organ of knowledge in not trusting to it exclusively. . .