ZADNJE BESEDE: Alden Nowlan: THIS IS WHAT I WANTED TO SIGN OFF WITH

You know what I'm
like when I'm sick: I'd sooner
curse than cry. And people don't often
know what they're saying in the end.
Or I could die in my sleep.

So I'll say it now. Here it is.
Don't pay any attention
if I don't get it right
when it's for real. Blame that
on terror and pain
or the stuff they're shooting
into my veins. This is what I wanted to
sign off with. Bend
closer, listen, I love you.

Gluha Glava: Osip Mendelštam: Potovanje v Armenijo

Torej gluhost in nehvaležnost, ki smo ju podedovali po titanih …
Glava se glasi armensko „gluh'“, z mehkim „l“ in s kratkim pridihom po „h“. to pa je koren ruske besede „gluhost“. In jeftitsko? Prosim:
Videti, slišati in razumeti – vsi ti pojmi so se nekoč stekali v enem pomenskem svežnju. Na najglobljih razvojnih stopnjah besedja ni bilo pojmov, bili so samo smeri, strahovi, pohlep, samo potrebe in bojazni. Pojem glava se je izoblikoval v deset tisočletjih iz svežnja meglenih pomenov in gluhota je postala njeno razpoznavno znamenje.
Sicer pa boš, bralec, vse zameštral in ni na meni, da bi te poučeval.

Lepote realnega: Vid Pečjak: Drejček in trije marsovčki (ali: v prostem času berem otroške knjige)

Na Zemlji so jo videli kot naglo bežečo zvezdico. Mnogi so jo zamenjali za utrinek. Spomnili so se svojih neizpolnjenih želja, misleč, da se bodo uresničile, če bodo nanje mislili, dokler utrinek pada. Jožek si je zaželel konja, kot ga ima sosedov Lojze. Ta pa je hotel resničnega, živega konja, in ne lesenega, kot ga že ima. Jurček si je zaželel torto, Tinček pa kos potice, mlada indijska mamica pa je pomislila: „Da bi imel moj mali Krišna skorjico kruha!“ A tam daleč v črni Afriki je zamorček pokazal s prstom na nebo in rekel: „Kako visoko leti ta kresnica!“

Razmislek za vse družbe in vse religije: Would You Permit Me? by Nizar Kabbani

In a country where thinkers are assassinated, and writers are considered infidels and books are burnt, in societies that refuse the other, and force silence on mouths and thoughts forbidden, and to question is a sin, I must beg Your pardon, would you permit me?

Would you permit me to bring up my children as I want, and not dictate on me your whims and orders?

Would you permit me to teach my children that religion is first to God and not for religious leaders or scholars or people?

Would you permit me to teach my little one that religion is about good manners, good behavior, good conduct, honesty and truthfulness, before I teach her with which foot to enter the bathroom or with which hand she should eat?

Would you permit me to teach me daughter that God is about love, and she can dialogue with Him and ask Him anything she wants, far away from the teachings of anyone?

Would you permit me not to mention the torture of the grave to my children, who do not know about death yet?

Would you permit me to teach my daughter the tenets of religion and its culture and manners, before I force on her the Hijab?

Would you permit me to tell my young son that hurting people and degrading them because of their nationality, color or religion, is considered a big sin by God?

Would you permit me to tell my daughter that revising her homework and paying attention to her learning is considered by God as more useful and important than learning by heart Ayahs from the Qur'an without knowing their meaning?

Would you permit me to teach my son that following the footsteps of the Honorable Prophet begins with his honesty, loyalty and truthfulness, before his beard or how short his robe is?

Would you permit me to tell my daughter that her Christian friend is not an infidel, and ask her not to cry fearing her friend will go to Hell?

Would you permit me to argue, that God did not authorize anyone on earth after the Prophet to speak in his name nor did he vest any powers in anyone to issue "deeds of forgiveness" to people?

Would you permit me to say, that God has forbidden killing the human spirit, and who kills wrongly a human being is as if he killed all human kind, and no Muslim has the right to frighten another?

Would you permit me to teach my children that God is greater, more just and more merciful than all the religious scholars on earth combined? And that his standards are different from the standards of those trading religion, and that his accountability is kinder and more merciful?

Would you permit me?

Bethlehem

Some of the people you meet around Bethlehem quote from the Bible, some recite from the Koran, some chant from the Torah. Some show you their fields, some point to their olive groves; some invoke history, some envision the future. Some pray with knees on the ground, some with foreheads on the ground, some with feet firmly planted but but with torsos turning and swaying. Some throw stones and some drive tanks and some wrap themselves with explosives. But when you get right down to it, when you boil away the hatred and the politics and the wars that have shaken the planet, the one thing most people are talking about, when it comes to Bethlehem, is land. A tiny scrap of land. A wind-scoured, water-starved, rock-strewn bit of ground.

(Michael Finkel, Christopher Anderson, National Geographic)

Byron: Epitaph for a Dog

When some proud Son of Man returns to Earth,
Unknown by Glory, but upheld by Birth,
The sculptor's art exhausts the pomp of woe,
And storied urns record who rests below,
When all is done, upon the Tomb is seen,
Not what he was, but what he should have been.
But the poor Dog, in life the firmest friend,
The first to welcome, foremost to defend,
Whose hones heart is still his Master's own,
Who labours, fights, lives, breathes for him alone,
Unhonored falls, unnoticed all his worth,
Denied in heaven the Soul he held on earth -
While Man, vain insect! hopes to be forgiven,
And claims himself a sole exclusive heaven.

Oh man! thou feeble tenant of an hour,
Debased by slavery, or corrupt by power -
Who knows thee well must quit thee with disgust,
Degraded mass of animated dust!
Thy love is lust, thy friendship all a cheat,
Thy tongue hypocrisy, the words deceit!
By nature vile, ennobled but by name,
Each kindred brute might bid thee blush for shame.
Ye, who perchance behold this simple urn,
Pass on - it honors none you wish to mourn.
To mark a friend's remains these stones arise;
I never knew but one - and here he lies.

We used to build civilizations. Now we build shopping malls. ~Bill Bryson

Advertising has us chasing cars and clothes, working jobs we hate so we can buy shit we don't need.
~From the movie Fight Club, based on the novel by Chuck Palahniuk