Wednesday, May 25, 2005
Psychology H508
The preliminary results of J's study, for those who participated, and for those who did not:
1. Black people are scared of Mexicans.
2. Mexicans are scared of black people.
3. White people are scared of everybody. They're just like, "Oh, shit, we're gonna die."
(paraphrase courtesy of the magnificent JR Henry)
The preliminary results of J's study, for those who participated, and for those who did not:
1. Black people are scared of Mexicans.
2. Mexicans are scared of black people.
3. White people are scared of everybody. They're just like, "Oh, shit, we're gonna die."
(paraphrase courtesy of the magnificent JR Henry)
Tuesday, May 17, 2005
Free Tibet, Free Mumia . . .
Free G-d.
I am not making this up; I saw it on the sidewalk as little-b ben and I were walking back from the stadium where we didn't have class. I pointed it out to him and suggested we should determine where He was imprisoned and write some letters, yo, or go jailbreaking or something. ben suggested that perhaps it would be futile, as G-d could be dead already.
FREE G-D, it said.
And then we walked a little further and saw
FREE FOOD
and later
FREE MUSIC.
So either everything good in life has inexplicably been taken hostage, or some creepy Christians are having a concert.
Free G-d.
I am not making this up; I saw it on the sidewalk as little-b ben and I were walking back from the stadium where we didn't have class. I pointed it out to him and suggested we should determine where He was imprisoned and write some letters, yo, or go jailbreaking or something. ben suggested that perhaps it would be futile, as G-d could be dead already.
FREE G-D, it said.
And then we walked a little further and saw
FREE FOOD
and later
FREE MUSIC.
So either everything good in life has inexplicably been taken hostage, or some creepy Christians are having a concert.
Tuesday, May 03, 2005
Whetstone Library
Sometimes the world seems like a very big and scary place. Things like this and this and this (and this and this and this and this) happen, and there's really very little a person can do about it but worry, and wait, and wonder. A person starts to think, sometimes, that it's about time to activate Emergency Back-Up Plan #17 and head for the woods and subsistence-farm, sing psalms, build telescopes, lay low until the end of the world or the end of the ugliness, altogether decline to participate. A person wants to leave not just a state like Ohio but also a state of mind, pitching everything up in the air without waiting for it to come back down, walking away light and easy and renewed. Faith in fundamental goodness starts to evaporate, and the urge to escape builds, flight from places but also from people, riddle and mystery that we are, conglomeration of soul and sense and background and broken parts. A person just needs to vanish.
And then sometimes a person is walking down the sidewalk with a baby in a sling and the sun is trying to shine from behind dark, thick clouds, and the rain is smattering down in tiny bursts and the wind is stirring, shifting, and the baby looks up and smiles, starts babbling, and the grass is a moving green against the air and the trees are a moment of stability in the timed expanse of sight and a person thinks that maybe, just maybe, it can all be okay someday, and the baby tries to eat his hand and the bus goes by like a dragon breathing bicycles and a person sits down, and just has to cry.
Sometimes the world seems like a very big and scary place. Things like this and this and this (and this and this and this and this) happen, and there's really very little a person can do about it but worry, and wait, and wonder. A person starts to think, sometimes, that it's about time to activate Emergency Back-Up Plan #17 and head for the woods and subsistence-farm, sing psalms, build telescopes, lay low until the end of the world or the end of the ugliness, altogether decline to participate. A person wants to leave not just a state like Ohio but also a state of mind, pitching everything up in the air without waiting for it to come back down, walking away light and easy and renewed. Faith in fundamental goodness starts to evaporate, and the urge to escape builds, flight from places but also from people, riddle and mystery that we are, conglomeration of soul and sense and background and broken parts. A person just needs to vanish.
And then sometimes a person is walking down the sidewalk with a baby in a sling and the sun is trying to shine from behind dark, thick clouds, and the rain is smattering down in tiny bursts and the wind is stirring, shifting, and the baby looks up and smiles, starts babbling, and the grass is a moving green against the air and the trees are a moment of stability in the timed expanse of sight and a person thinks that maybe, just maybe, it can all be okay someday, and the baby tries to eat his hand and the bus goes by like a dragon breathing bicycles and a person sits down, and just has to cry.
