When the winds of changes shift May your heart always be joyful And may your song always be sung May you stay forever young Forever young, forever young May you stay forever young.
A baby in the womb has no idea its Mother loves cool September breezes floating through the twilight window
On a cold winter night in 78 he drank two liters of Russian tea, went to Red Square before light and wrote on snow: “Brezhnev is an idiot!”
that nobody wanted anybody to be strong and beautiful like that
No baby, if you’re going to create you’re going to create whether you work 16 hours a day in a coal mine or you’re going to create in a small room with 3 children while you’re on welfare.
In a recent interview with Madhyamam newspaper, the author talks about the ‘hunter’s viewpoint’ when it comes to sexual assaults. Vishnu Prasad feels better understanding the hunter’s social conditions is important enough and is seldom thought of. He feels male sexuality is suppressed in Kerala’s social conditioning. He goes to the extent of claiming men […]
Pink eraser: I never fall apart because I never fall together. Also – “Everybody should like everybody,” and “The idea of waiting for something makes it more exciting,”
the portrait of a stranger, date unknown, often signed in a corner by my father.
if you have to sit for hours staring at your computer screen or hunched over your typewriter searching for words, don’t do it.
Michael Palmer writes “Our time is a between time; best to stay out of it.”, yes totally. Yes, I was born on the street known as Glass—as Paper, Scissors or Rock. Several of my ancestors had no hands. Several of my ancestors used their pens in odd ways. A child of seven I […]
There are those who love to get dirty and fix things. They drink coffee at dawn, beer after work, And those who stay clean, just appreciate things, At breakfast they have milk and juice at night.
Boredom is taken to be the worst evil. Immersing themselves in pleasure, whether sensual or intellectual, aesthetic people live overwhelmingly for the moment, in search of yet another self-gratifying experience. Pierre Reverdy and the poetry of Mad Men. Musings on desolation and the moment.