"Words really can hurt." Geico really knows how to do a good commercial.

"Words really can hurt." Geico really knows how to do a good commercial.

i-am-lono:

Happy birthday, you bastard.
Today’s the day our favorite gun-slinging madman was birthed from a most likely tattered womb. Let us take a hefty gulp from our glasses, because simply lifting them would be a waste of precious time, and down whatever whisky, rum, or what-have-you fills your cup this evening/morning/whenever. And then refill that glass because this savage life is far too short for just one.


To the man who actually made me interested in journalism, the psychotic oaf who taught us that weirdness trumps all, the brilliant mind who tamed fierce words with a wooden chair and a broken bottle of Wild Turkey, the immortal legend who could be killed only by the hands of himself… the Master of Gonzo, Dr. Hunter Stockton Thompson. May your legacy live on, and your decrepit corpse rot in some semblance of peace.
Res ipsa loquitur.




That’s good. I love it. I should read more HST.

i-am-lono:

Happy birthday, you bastard.

Today’s the day our favorite gun-slinging madman was birthed from a most likely tattered womb. Let us take a hefty gulp from our glasses, because simply lifting them would be a waste of precious time, and down whatever whisky, rum, or what-have-you fills your cup this evening/morning/whenever. And then refill that glass because this savage life is far too short for just one.

To the man who actually made me interested in journalism, the psychotic oaf who taught us that weirdness trumps all, the brilliant mind who tamed fierce words with a wooden chair and a broken bottle of Wild Turkey, the immortal legend who could be killed only by the hands of himself… the Master of Gonzo, Dr. Hunter Stockton Thompson. May your legacy live on, and your decrepit corpse rot in some semblance of peace.

Res ipsa loquitur.

That’s good. I love it. I should read more HST.

Why is it impossible to be a woman? Wen will never understand, men who are always themselves, day after day, shouting opinions and drinking freely and flirting and whoring and weeping and being forgiven for it all. When has a woman ever been forgiven? Can you even imagine it? For I have seen the plane of being, and nowhere upon it is the woman tracing her life as she had always dreamed of it. Always there are boundaries, the rules, the questions - Wouldn’t you prefer to be back home, little lady? - that break the spell of living. What a fantasy to live within that spell, the enchantment of speaking one’s mind, and doing one’s will, and waking in the bed of one’s choosing. I say this simply as a woman rattling the cage to be free. And what do I mean by free?Just to walk down the street. Just to buy a newspaper without a single eye deciding my place. A shrew, a wife, or a whore. Those seemed to be my choices. A man would refuse to choose; a man would have the right. All I wanted was love. A simple thing, a timeless thing. When men want love they sing for it, or smile for it, or pay for it. And what do women do? They choose. And their lives are struck like bronze medallions. -Greta Wells, Jan 3, 1919
Photo credit: UN Women/Akshita Agrawal

Why is it impossible to be a woman? Wen will never understand, men who are always themselves, day after day, shouting opinions and drinking freely and flirting and whoring and weeping and being forgiven for it all. When has a woman ever been forgiven? Can you even imagine it? For I have seen the plane of being, and nowhere upon it is the woman tracing her life as she had always dreamed of it. Always there are boundaries, the rules, the questions - Wouldn’t you prefer to be back home, little lady? - that break the spell of living. What a fantasy to live within that spell, the enchantment of speaking one’s mind, and doing one’s will, and waking in the bed of one’s choosing. I say this simply as a woman rattling the cage to be free. And what do I mean by free?Just to walk down the street. Just to buy a newspaper without a single eye deciding my place. A shrew, a wife, or a whore. Those seemed to be my choices. A man would refuse to choose; a man would have the right. All I wanted was love. A simple thing, a timeless thing. When men want love they sing for it, or smile for it, or pay for it. And what do women do? They choose. And their lives are struck like bronze medallions. -Greta Wells, Jan 3, 1919

Photo credit: UN Women/Akshita Agrawal

Is this not the heart of human existence, to be worth fighting for, worth losing everything for?

Is this not the heart of human existence, to be worth fighting for, worth losing everything for?

It was like explaining the act of love, which lacks all internal logic except to those engaged, to whom logic is superfluous, because the only motivation is passion. -Greta Wells, Dec 19, 1941, on what it was like explaining the act of war to her young son.

It was like explaining the act of love, which lacks all internal logic except to those engaged, to whom logic is superfluous, because the only motivation is passion. -Greta Wells, Dec 19, 1941, on what it was like explaining the act of war to her young son.

The heart only knows one sound…”yes”

The heart will hear only one sound. A “no” will pass unnoticed and a “good-bye” will be heard only as a deferral of hope; the future is unmarred, pushed forward by events but untouched by them because the heart sees only a perfect future with it’s beloved, and hears only news about that future. The rest is noise. There is only one sound it can hear. There is only “yes.” -Greta Wells, Nov 8, 1918

Why we want to know even when it hurts

What magnetic force draws us to scenes of pain, and words that wound us? Grief will go - it always does - but not before it forces is to do absurd things, and hurt ourselves, and bring on suffering, because grief, that parasite, above all else does not want to die, and only in these terrible moments it creates can it feel itself thrashing back to life. -Greta Wells, Dec 6, 1941

"Forgive him for hoping my husband was dead." - Greta Wells

How selfish love is, though we never think of it that way. We think of ourselves as heroes, saving a great work of art from destruction, running into flames, cutting it from its frame, rolling it up and fleeing through the smoke. We think we are large hearted. As if we were saving it for anyone but ourselves, and all the time we don’t care what burns down, as long as this is saved. The whole gallery can fall into ashes as far as we care. That love must be rescued, beyond all reason, reveals the madness at the heart of it. -Greta Wells, Nov 8, 1918

"Forgive him for hoping my husband was dead." - Greta Wells

How selfish love is, though we never think of it that way. We think of ourselves as heroes, saving a great work of art from destruction, running into flames, cutting it from its frame, rolling it up and fleeing through the smoke. We think we are large hearted. As if we were saving it for anyone but ourselves, and all the time we don’t care what burns down, as long as this is saved. The whole gallery can fall into ashes as far as we care. That love must be rescued, beyond all reason, reveals the madness at the heart of it. -Greta Wells, Nov 8, 1918

"The Christians are right:
It is Pride which has been the chief cause of misery in every nation and every family since the world began.
Other vices may sometimes bring people together: you may find good fellowship and jokes and friendliness
among drunken people or unchaste people. But pride always means enmity- it is enmity. And not only enmity
between man and man, but enmity to God.”
"The Christians are right:
It is Pride which has been the chief cause of misery in every nation and every family since the world began.
Other vices may sometimes bring people together: you may find good fellowship and jokes and friendliness
among drunken people or unchaste people. But pride always means enmity- it is enmity. And not only enmity
between man and man, but enmity to God.”