Hell is hot for many reasons. Punishment, by itself, is not the only consideration. Dante’s thermostat may be in the red for inspiration…or as a forewarning…or as a symbol of passion to motivate us up here on the upper crust of planet earth. But sitting in the summer heat of an un-airconditioned doctor’s office yesterday, I was convinced that, at the very least, hell is real. My visit to Dr….
I’ve waved it, hung it, and ran it up a pole. I’ve “pledged allegiance” to it — to freedoms that include the right to criticize and to think freely. The American flag is a symbol of my government — a fabric rectangle, red, white, blue, stars and stripes — the representation, but not the foundation, on which we stand. Anyone can fly the flag and anyone can hide behind it.
In 2017 — the 50th anniversary of the modestly named Summer of Love — Researchers from the Department of Psychiatry, Psychotherapy and Psychosomatics at Zurich University determined that LSD can turn a common event into a game-changing sacred experience. This heightened transformation in meaning takes place due to the stimulation of certain serotonin receptors not only during an acid trip, but after — in-other-words, with LSD, personal change could be…
I like crows not because of James O’Barr, Brendon Lee, Carlos Castaneda or Irish cock and bull mythology. It’s not because of the crow’s “nevermore” reputation, their association with a trendy dark underworld, either. This spooky crow profile was unfairly earned during the plague, when crows plucked the eyes from the dead. Well, yes, they did. It was good eating — food on the run. Eyes of corpses are hassle-free…
The German philosopher Theodor Adorno once said, “It is self-evident that nothing concerning art is self-evident.” We’re at a point in time when nearly everyone has access to producing artistic things. But when replication, sampling, mashups and mixdowns are thought of as art — what becomes of process? The making of art? Does it vanish into a programmed format or does it flourish?
A sleepy-eyed early-morning riser retrieving the morning paper in her bathrobe stands bow-legged, slack-mouth stunned. A driver of a Toyota van brakes abruptly to a stop — blocking an intersection. Ignoring my 7 a.m. walk through central Irvine, the group lopes down the middle of the street (one with a sideways glance). In close formation, their tongues dangling, they pass the community clubhouse, the pool, the tennis courts and the…
