Marilyn's easel a Madonna displayed celluloid goddess of the temple of the silver screen we worshipped ignoring the cracks and the obvious fact that the woman behind the art was slipping slowly dripping off the canvas now she is no more we still adore the puddle on the floor
Not everyone can be a star no matter how we wish for heavenly light most of us will not illuminate the night those who burn and seem so bright will oft ignite and fall burning cinders merely human after all
I’ve never felt More luxurious Than when I was on a newly Prescribed drug With a total body high, Coming down from mania, Still exuberant, But in a private space, In my bathroom In the ward, In a bathtub That does not fill up. So I put on the shower And I let the water hit my skin And I took bite after bite Of crisp and juicy apple slices. I was at the mental hospital Marilyn Monroe stayed in. I imagined her here in the same bath Also feeling luxurious and all sorts Of ****** up like me.
What I love about Star Trek isn’t the plots or even the characters. It’s their casual, daily use of fantastic technologies (think replicators) - for them, the ordinary. It mirrors our own banal use of magic-like wireless, google searches and air travel. We are marvelous monkeys.
I’m a teenager. I am new and agog - Jesus, I have a lot to learn. How are the many marvels that elevate our lives actually made? The millions of cars, the fuel distribution systems, our skyscrapers. Who thought of all this? We’re marvelous monkeys.
We can almost cheat death - I saw Marilyn Monroe on TV last night. It wasn't the real star - just the image of her purring sexuality. The her without the messy adopted-child neuroses, chemical dependencies, loneliness and deeper longings. But it's early days - her DNA is lying around here somewhere. We’re marvelous monkeys.
what an amazing world we've made - not perfect - but not too bad - for monkeys.