I think the Dalai Lama is an alright guy. I don’t think he’s the re-incarnation of a demi-god though, and I don’t think he’s an infallible sage or “the premiere moral presence of our time.”
We forget all sorts of horrific experiences we vowed never to do again. A few months pass, and, there we are, willfully signing up to do it all once more. Unlike child birth, we can’t blame it on a lack of – ahem – rhythm.
The Patriots are 18-1; a man hides his face against my shoulder, because the world had suddenly become too much to bear. A few seconds ago, I was trying to eat two chicken drumsticks at the same time, so you can imagine how dignified I must look.
“Why, Natalia? Why do you put yourself through that?” *deep sigh* “If you need help you know where to find me.”
I heard the words “Saddam Hussein” and “Al-Qaeda” and “Osama bin Laden.” Then the guy made some comment about Africa. Great, I thought, a geography-challenged bigot.
“Dear God, I’ve just discovered an enraged king cobra under my seat, please do something!”…?
Rafferty swore and lumbered after, as graceful as a bull elephant with an inner ear problem. He grabbed her by the arm, spun her around, and suddenly, they were making out furiously.
Having spent our glorious university years in Washington D.C., my friends and I recently decided to reconvene in the U.S. capital for a walk down memory lane.
Did I seriously just write the above headline? Heath Ledger was? He was? People die young all the time. There’s nothing new under the sun, and tragic death in one’s prime is no exception. In many ways Heath Ledger was (here’s that dreadful word again) no more special than, say, the people dying in Palestine …
It seems that everyone with wheels in Kyiv went up the Carpathian mountains to celebrate the New Year.