(B) for Blog

Part II

Alexander Hollender — Tue, 07 Sep 2010 05:14:56 +0000

“‘A man grows old; he feels in himself that radical sense of weakness, of listlessness, of discomfort, which accompanies the advance of age; and, feeling thus, imagines himself merely sick, lulling his fears with the notion that this distressing condition is due to some particular cause, from which, as from an illness, he hopes to recover. Vain imaginings! That sickness is old age; and a horrible disease it is. They say that it is the fear of death and of what comes after death that makes men turn to religion as they advance in years. But my own experience has given me the conviction that, quite apart from any such terrors or imaginings, the religious sentiment tends to develop as we grow older; to develop because, as the passions grow calm, as the fancy and sensibilities are less excited and less excitable, our reason becomes less troubled in its working, less obscured by the images, desires and distractions, in which it used to be absorbed; whereupon God emerges as from behind a cloud; our soul feels, sees, turns towards the source of all light; turns naturally and inevitably; for now that all that gave to the world of sensations its life and charms has begun to leak away from us, now that phenomenal existence is no more bolstered up by impressions from within or from without, we feel the need to lean on something that abides, something that will never play us false–a reality, an absolute and everlasting truth. Yes, we inevitably turn to God; for this religious sentiment is of its nature so pure, so delightful to the soul that experiences it, that it makes up to us for all our other losses.’”

Brave New World, Aldous Huxley

OFWGKTA

Alexander Hollender — Mon, 06 Sep 2010 22:33:57 +0000

“You can try to walk inside my brain but I closed the door, fuck dogs I roll around with my pet dinosaur”

Part I

Alexander Hollender — Mon, 06 Sep 2010 02:39:53 +0000

“‘We are not our own any more than what we possess is our own. We did not make ourselves, we cannot be supreme over ourselves. We are not our own masters. We are God’s property. Is it not our happiness thus to view the matter? Is it any happiness or any comfort, to consider that we are our own? It may be thought so by the young and prosperous. These may think it a great thing to have everything, as they suppose, their own way–to depend on no one–to have to think of nothing out of sight, to be without the irksomeness of continual acknowledgment, continual prayer, continual reference of what they do to the will of another. But as time goes on, they, as all men, will find that independence was not made for man–that it is an unnatural state–will do for a while, but will not carry us on safely to the end …’”

Brave New World, Aldous Huxley

H.R.S.+.

Alexander Hollender — Mon, 06 Sep 2010 02:33:08 +0000

still killin it

In case you haven’t noticed

Alexander Hollender — Mon, 06 Sep 2010 02:30:00 +0000

rappers used to dress way better

Alexander Hollender — Sun, 05 Sep 2010 06:05:37 +0000

Lose It (In The End) – Ghostface

Un Homme est un Homme

Alexander Hollender — Sun, 05 Sep 2010 06:02:15 +0000

Alexander Hollender — Sat, 04 Sep 2010 03:30:24 +0000

“Selection and combination are learned from nature herself, who constantly presents us with compositions of her own, far more beautiful than the happiest arranged by human skill”

We Play for Keeps

Alexander Hollender — Sat, 04 Sep 2010 03:01:59 +0000

A Portrait of an Artist as a Student

Alexander Hollender — Fri, 03 Sep 2010 06:26:32 +0000

Part III: Accidental Encounters with the Picturesque

Alexander Hollender — Fri, 03 Sep 2010 06:20:15 +0000

Rebel Yell – Billy Idol

thursday

Jordan — Thu, 02 Sep 2010 18:28:41 +0000

as far as i can see

CBD Radio 9/1

Alexander Hollender — Thu, 02 Sep 2010 05:11:02 +0000

I’m the verbal-spit Smith Wesson
I unload with sick spit the quick wick could split a split-second,
Bomb with a lit wick expression
You here a tick tick then you testin..

Back by popular demand of the hood. Ladies grab your dresses.

The Return
by
Milo Ben-Amotz

there’s no home for your here girl go’way

Jesse J. Zorski Esq. — Thu, 02 Sep 2010 04:47:39 +0000

Week-End

Alexander Hollender — Thu, 02 Sep 2010 02:11:39 +0000

Alex Prager
_________

Thanks & Happy Birthday D.C.

Heading East and Into Heaven

Jesse J. Zorski Esq. — Wed, 01 Sep 2010 14:14:03 +0000

Our species is the only creative species, and it has only one creative instrument, the individual mind and spirit of a man. Nothing was ever created by two men. There are no good collaborations, whether in music, in art, in poetry, in mathematics, in philosophy. Once the miracle of creation has taken place, the group can build and extend it, but the group never invents anything. The preciousness lies in the lonely mind of a man.

And now the forces marshaled around the concept of the group have declared a war of extermination on that preciousness, the mind of man. By disparagement, by starvation, by repressions, forced direction, and the stunning hammerblows of conditioning, the free, roving mind is being pursued, roped, blunted, drugged. It is a sad suicidal course our species seems to have taken.

And this I believe: that the free, exploring mind of the individual human is the most valuable thing in the world. And this I would fight for: the freedom of the mind to take any direction it wishes, undirected. And this I must fight against: any idea, religion, or government which limits or destroys the individual. This is what I am and what I am about. I can understand why a system built on a pattern must try to destroy the free mind, for that is the one thing which can by inspection destroy such a system. Surely I can understand this, and I hate it and I will fight against it to preserve the one thing that separates us from the uncreative beasts. If the glory can be killed, we are lost.

(Pg. 131)

John Steinbeck East of Eden

Jesse J. Zorski Esq. — Wed, 01 Sep 2010 14:04:34 +0000

Somebody Said the Kids Are All the Same These Days

Jesse J. Zorski Esq. — Wed, 01 Sep 2010 14:02:40 +0000

OAK zine.