"Conversion is a lonely experience." -- Dorothy Day
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Interviewer: How come you've never written about Jesus? You've written about Buddha. Wasn't Jesus a great guy too?
Kerouac: I've never written about Jesus? In other words, you're an insane phoney who comes to my house...and...all I write about is Jesus. I am Everhard Mercurian, General of the Jesuit Army.
(from The Paris Review, 1967)
Unhero Eddie 's Details
Status:
Swinger
Orientation:
Straight
Religion:
Catholic
Zodiac Sign:
Pisces
Smoke / Drink:
No / No
Unhero Eddie is a dreaming fish Posted at 6:43 PM Feb 26 view more
Wer mich ADDET, muss Spaß an ungewöhnlichen Songs haben. Hört euch die Songs im Player an - solltet Ihr auch Trash Songs haben, bitte um Informationen. Deshalb ein ganz besonderes Dankeschön fürs Freund sein.
Thanks for beeing friends here at myspace! Trash forever :-)
Just wanted to say thanks for being a real friend of mine on Myspace. If you have any poetry or know a really great poet that you like - let me know - i'm always looking for new poetry & poets to feature on 10K Poets.
The sun had not yet risen. The sea was indistinguishable from the sky, except that the sea was slightly creased as if a cloth had wrinkles in it. Gradually as the sky whitened a dark line lay on the horizon dividing the sea from the sky and the grey cloth became barred with thick strokes moving, one after another, beneath the surface, following each other, pursuing each other, perpetually.
Oh, to awake from dreaming! Look, there is the chest of drawers. Let me pull myself out of these waters. But they heap themselves on me; they sweep me between their great shoulders; I am turned; I am tumbled; I am stretched, among these long lights, these long waves, these endless paths, with people pursuing, pursuing.
Sorry if I have a TWISTED sense of humor. This is an obnoxious attempt to get more blog subscribers. Basically just taking a break from writing my novel. Hope it interests you.
A young deaf-mute couple gets married. At first, they have sex with the lights on, in order to sign to each other.
One day, the woman asks, "Can we try to make love with the lights off?"
The man says, "OK, but how will you know when I want to make love?"
The woman says, "Well, when you're in the mood, just shake my left breast once, and I'll know. If you don't want to, shake my right breast once."
The man says, "All right. And if you want to make love to me, shake my penis once, if you do not want to make love to me, shake my penis about 50 times."
What does one send to the Lighthouse indeed! At any other time Lily could have suggested reasonably tea, tobacco, newspapers. But this morning everything seemed so extraordinarily queer that a question like Nancy’s—What does one send to the Lighthouse?—opened doors in one’s mind that went banging and swinging to and fro and made one keep asking, in a stupefied gape, What does one send? What does one do? Why is one sitting here, after all? (Woolf)
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