Overtly Still

An apt description of Dennis Michalak
humansofnewyork:

Thanks to all of you who came to the meet-up in Delhi. It went about as well as a spontaneous meet-up could possibly go. Amazingly, we were able to have a pretty organized, calm speech. Until the very end, of course, when we ran from the police. Coolest part for me was when the police were looking for someone to blame for the crowd, and asked: “Who is he with?” And everyone screamed in unison:"All of us!"

humansofnewyork:

Thanks to all of you who came to the meet-up in Delhi. It went about as well as a spontaneous meet-up could possibly go. Amazingly, we were able to have a pretty organized, calm speech. Until the very end, of course, when we ran from the police. Coolest part for me was when the police were looking for someone to blame for the crowd, and asked: “Who is he with?” And everyone screamed in unison:
"All of us!"

humansofnewyork:

She initially said “no” when I asked for a photo, but another old woman walked by, and began speaking passionately in Ukrainian. Apparently convinced by the words of the passerby, the woman shrugged, and posed for the picture. After everything was finished, I asked my translator: “What did that other woman say?”"She said: ‘You must not refuse a photo, because you must represent the women of your land. Now go to eternity!’"(Odessa, Ukraine)

humansofnewyork:

She initially said “no” when I asked for a photo, but another old woman walked by, and began speaking passionately in Ukrainian. Apparently convinced by the words of the passerby, the woman shrugged, and posed for the picture. After everything was finished, I asked my translator: “What did that other woman say?”
"She said: ‘You must not refuse a photo, because you must represent the women of your land. Now go to eternity!’"

(Odessa, Ukraine)

humansofnewyork:

"When he first came to us, he wasn’t talking. He was about four years old, but we knew nothing else about him. Occasionally, he’d imitate the other children, but he’d express no thoughts of his own. He couldn’t tell us anything about his home, his family, or where he came from. To make matters worse, aid workers had further confused him by suggesting hometowns to him— which he had readily agreed to. So we started with a completely blank slate. We drew a house on a piece of paper, and we said: ‘Is this your home?’ And he said: ‘No! You forgot the gate!’ So we drew a gate. And he said: ‘But you forgot the tree!’ So we drew a tree.  Piece by piece, day by day, we filled in a picture of his home. He was still very reserved and traumatized, so the process took over a month. But we met in the safety of my office every day, and we figured it out. It was like putting together a puzzle. The saddest moment was when we drew his father. ‘You have to draw him laying down,’ the boy said. ‘I tried to get him to come with me, but he wouldn’t.’  When we eventually used the drawings to identify the boy’s hometown and find his mother, she confirmed our fears. The boy had disappeared after seeing his father get shot.”
(Juba, South Sudan)

humansofnewyork:

"When he first came to us, he wasn’t talking. He was about four years old, but we knew nothing else about him. Occasionally, he’d imitate the other children, but he’d express no thoughts of his own. He couldn’t tell us anything about his home, his family, or where he came from. To make matters worse, aid workers had further confused him by suggesting hometowns to him— which he had readily agreed to. So we started with a completely blank slate. We drew a house on a piece of paper, and we said: ‘Is this your home?’ And he said: ‘No! You forgot the gate!’ So we drew a gate. And he said: ‘But you forgot the tree!’ So we drew a tree.
Piece by piece, day by day, we filled in a picture of his home. He was still very reserved and traumatized, so the process took over a month. But we met in the safety of my office every day, and we figured it out. It was like putting together a puzzle. The saddest moment was when we drew his father. ‘You have to draw him laying down,’ the boy said. ‘I tried to get him to come with me, but he wouldn’t.’
When we eventually used the drawings to identify the boy’s hometown and find his mother, she confirmed our fears. The boy had disappeared after seeing his father get shot.”

(Juba, South Sudan)

liartownusa:

Cooking for Raccoons by Grendyl Harlapp

liartownusa:

Cooking for Raccoons by Grendyl Harlapp

Alabama James Darkness

—I'm Dead

liartownusa:

ALABAMA JAMES DARKNESS conceived by and written with great help from Kyle McCulloch

Universally regarded as history’s first goth song, “I’m Dead” was written in 1929, days after Darkness finished reading Bram Stoker’s Dracula. The lyrics not only contain the earliest of Darkness’ many references to gothic literature, but feature the musician writing as the vampire himself, warning a young woman of the terrors and temptations in the night.

I’M DEAD - 1929 (3:17)

By Alabama James Darkness (James Caffey)

I’m dead I’m dead

I’m already dead

See my fangs a’growin

Soon that bloods a’flowin

I’m dead I’m dead

I’m already dead

You can’t evah kill me sir

Cuz I am a Dracula

Underneath that cryin’ moon

You will meet your master soon

I’m dead I’m dead

I’m already dead

See me rise at midnight

I prowl for prey by moonlight

I’m dead I’m dead

I’m already dead

Look into my glowin’ eyes

I will make you hypnotized

Come to me my pretty little miss

And have a taste of darkness kiss

I’m dead I’m dead

I’m already dead

Done sleepin’ in my casket

Come creepin’ if you ask it

I’m dead I’m dead

I’m already dead

Wave your ma and pa goodbye

It’s time to let your body die

You won’t never see the sun

When ol Dracula is done

I’m dead I’m dead

I’m already dead

humansofnewyork:

"A few years ago, I got a call on my cell phone from a twelve year old child from my village. He was calling me from a bus stop. He’d taken a bus into the city alone, and he was calling me to ask if I could help him find a way to go to school. Both of his parents had died of AIDS, and he had no money for tuition. I told him to stay where he was, and left work immediately to pick him up. At first I was very mad at him. He should not have travelled alone. But then I looked at him and I saw myself. I’d also been desperate to go to school after my father was killed, but we had no money. So even though I was suffering myself, I told him I would try to help him. My salary was not enough, so I tried many things to get the money. After work, I went to the landfill to hunt for recyclables. But after I paid to have them cleaned, there was no money left. Now I’m trying to make bricks. I have a small operation in the village to make bricks, and I sell them in the city. It doesn’t make much money, but it’s enough to pay tuition for the boy and three of his siblings.” (Kampala, Uganda)

humansofnewyork:

"A few years ago, I got a call on my cell phone from a twelve year old child from my village. He was calling me from a bus stop. He’d taken a bus into the city alone, and he was calling me to ask if I could help him find a way to go to school. Both of his parents had died of AIDS, and he had no money for tuition. I told him to stay where he was, and left work immediately to pick him up. At first I was very mad at him. He should not have travelled alone. But then I looked at him and I saw myself. I’d also been desperate to go to school after my father was killed, but we had no money. So even though I was suffering myself, I told him I would try to help him. My salary was not enough, so I tried many things to get the money. After work, I went to the landfill to hunt for recyclables. But after I paid to have them cleaned, there was no money left. Now I’m trying to make bricks. I have a small operation in the village to make bricks, and I sell them in the city. It doesn’t make much money, but it’s enough to pay tuition for the boy and three of his siblings.” 

(Kampala, Uganda)

paulftompkins:

A bad deal!

This Is The Face of My Mental Illness

thechrisgethardshow:

imageI took this picture of myself at the end of a day I spent in bed, scared and crying, feeling alone and hopeless and completely desperate.

This is the face of my mental illness. This is the face of my sadness when it is at its most inexplicable and its most pronounced.

I am not ashamed of it.

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