“As can be easily imagined, a youth like myself came to entertain two opposing forms of power wishes. In history I enjoyed the descriptions of tyrants. I saw myself as a stuttering, taciturn tyrant; my retainers would hang on every expression that passed over my face and would live both day and night in fear and trembling of me. There is no need to justify my cruelty in clear, smooth words. My taciturnity alone was sufficient to justify every manner of cruelty.”
—
The stuttering Zen acolyte Mizoguchi, in the 1956 novel The Temple of the Golden Pavilion (Y. M.)
—
The stuttering Zen acolyte Mizoguchi, in the 1956 novel The Temple of the Golden Pavilion (Y. M.)
The heartland of cannabis in Kazakstan is the Chuy Valley that lies Kazakstan; it is estimated that up to 400,000 hectares of (mostly wild) cannabis grows there, accounting for around one-third of the available fertile soil and over 10% of the total area of the valley—possibly the largest cannabis fields in the world.
In a strange room you must empty yourself for sleep. And before you are emptied for sleep, what are you. And when you are emptied for sleep, you are not. And when you are filled with sleep you never were. I don’t know what I am. I don’t know if I am or not. And then I must be, or I could not empty myself for sleep in a strange room. And so if I am not emptied yet, I am is.
- William Faulkner, As I Lay Dying
- William Faulkner, As I Lay Dying
Forwarded from alcoholic.exe
Depressed – he had reasons for it – he had been drinking steadily the night before. He had drifted from bar to bar, then seen no need to stop once he returned to his room. He vaguely remembered the sensation of booze sliding down his throat, the sought-after numbness it radiated. But how had that moment led to this one? Straining once more, he got hold of another image. The last thing he had done was to make his way into the bathroom and settle onto the toilet seat, bottle in hand. Time for one more swig before bed.