A World Without FDRS

#1
I know they went by many names--and were styled in technicolor coats of many shades. Those who misunderstood him might have a look at David DiValerio's "The Holy Madmen of Tibet." These revered monks slapped drinks from the hands of kings, draped themselves in the bowels and skin of the recently deceased and sometimes even ate their own shit. These public displays of "madness" cracked the shell of complacency, allowing those who dared to peel away the translucent membrane to see the world unobscured, if only for a moment.

What a shame.
 
#4
I know they went by many names--and were styled in technicolor coats of many shades. Those who misunderstood him might have a look at David DiValerio's "The Holy Madmen of Tibet." These revered monks slapped drinks from the hands of kings, draped themselves in the bowels and skin of the recently deceased and sometimes even ate their own shit. These public displays of "madness" cracked the shell of complacency, allowing those who dared to peel away the translucent membrane to see the world unobscured, if only for a moment.

What a shame.
Please.
 
S

Sciborg_S_Patel

#5
"This man who has come, this stranger, this woman-stealer, this enemy of our rules and rites, this wanderer who loves the ashes of the dead, who speaks of things divine to the lowest of the low, this man who sometimes seems crazy, who has something obscene about him, who grows his hair long as a girl's, who bedecks himself with bones, who laughs and cries for no reason, why should I give my daughter Sati to him of all men, why should I give She-who-is to someone who, every time I see him, seems to me the opposite of everything I wanted to be myself, of everything I want life to be?

Why did I compose so many rites, so many signs, so many words, why did I generate She-who-is, just to have everything stolen from me one day by he who is its living negation?"

-Roberto Calasso, Ka
 
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