Anything

“Life is a miracle. It’s not a mystery to me. It’s simple. Humans can shape their environment, but they can’t create anything. All we can do is put together what is here. But I challenge any man to try to make some life. Actually, forget life. I challenge any man to try to conjure up some dirt.”

“I was driving out into the Mexican desert with a shaman, and we were on our way to a peyote ceremony. We’d just eaten the peyote, and the shaman turned on the radio, and started playing The Talking Heads. He was this little indigenous dude, just banging on the steering wheel and singing along to The Talking Heads at the top of his lungs. I thought we were supposed to be contemplating life, so I said: ‘Are you sure the radio should be on right now? Is that how the ceremony is supposed to work?’ And he said: ‘This is exactly how it’s supposed to work.’ So I just shut up and rolled with it.”

“Those are my parents. They’ve been married 55 years. They met when my dad was visiting Mexico as a young man. He saw my mom at a party, but he couldn’t speak a word of Spanish, so they just sort of looked at each other and giggled. Everything was very formal back then, so he asked a mutual friend to obtain permission for him to contact her. My mom gave my dad her address, and when he went back to America, he would write her a letter every few days. He’d write the entire letter in English, and then get a Spanish dictionary and translate it word by word. My mom says the letters barely made sense. But after he’d written many letters, he went back to Mexico and they went on their first date. There were adult chaperones and everything, they didn’t even kiss or touch. It was all very formal. And after a few dates, they decided to marry. Her family thought she was crazy to marry this weird American who kept writing the letters. But she said she knew he was the one. Get this—- just two years ago, we were all visiting Italy. And I busted the two of them making out in a corner. I snapped a photo. Dad’s got Mom pinned up against a wall and he’s macking her hard.”

asyle

Jean-François Carly: “Snakes”

krsienti

gavinrichmond