Every city, just like every object, has a heart – a core where the energy that moves it, that keeps it from unraveling out into the ether, originates. This energy flows out from the heart through all different manner of arteries, canals and pathways, feeding into the other areas of the city.
It's strange what draws us, what pulls us like the tide. We think we have life, but life has us – we're merely an extension of her, like a little toe or a loose strand of hair...
Look into his eyes. He often called himself a little dark poet, but what he did with words was not exactly poetry. The theme this week, Pick up the gun, was taken from one of Hicks’ performances. Every time Hicks got on stage, he knew he was picking up the gun, the gun that would give his enemy the justification he needed to kill the man in black. Hicks knew it would happen, but he also knew that he had no other choice but to pick up the gun. So, what do you do in such a situation? The poor shephard, worried for his life, tried to pick it up with enough time to at least get a shot off, but there’s never enough time. If you have to pick up the gun, the only weapon you have is your words; you make the bastard who is going to shoot you regret the fact that they waited as long as they did. That’s what Bill Hicks did every time he got on stage. Well, every time but once. Living as he did on the cusp of popularity but always being just too risque, it was no surprise that Hicks was
Thanks to the indelible Bill Hicks, this week on t.a.g. we’ll all be picking up the gun.
If you were a sailor I'd raise the anchor To sail the sea In search of you and me And god Conjures currents to break our fragile boats And both the innocent and the damned Are swallowed up in his wake If you were a huntress I'd be your bow For your silver arrows To seek out his heart -dead can dance
Thanks to mfsandler for the theme for this week: The Magnet Smiles “the magnet smiles” is a line taken from an interview with Jorge Luis Borges, in which he discusses a story told by Oscar Wilde: MP-R: Can a narrative, especially a short narrative, be rigorous in a philosophical sense? Borges: I suppose it could be. Of course, in that case it would be a parable. I remember when I read a biography of Oscar Wilde by Hesketh Pearson. Then there was a long discussion going on about predestination and free will. And he asked Wilde what he made of free will. Then he answered in a story. The story seemed somewhat irrelevant, but it wasn’t. He said — yes, yes, yes, some nails, pins, and needles lived in the neighborhood of a magnet, and one of them said, “I think we should pay a visit to the magnet.” And the other said, “I think it is our duty to visit the magnet.” The other said, “This must be done right now. No delay can be allowed.” Then when they were saying those things, without being aware of it, they were all rushing towards the magnet, who smiled because he
New Orleans subsists almost entirely upon wonder. The only city that may rival it in this regard is Paris, but the one time I was there I didn't have enough time to snoop around and find out... lets just say that gargoyles and sarcasm don't mix.
