Let’s go through the list, shall we?
- Stalking Cat was a computer programmer before he passed away earlier this year. He was Native American and trying to become closer to his totem animal. Through this, he helped pioneer all types of body modification and holds several Guinness Book Records.
- Erik Sprague, aka Lizard Man, was a former PhD candidate. He has a bachelor’s in philosophy and is a performance artist: both through international side shows and as a music festival host.
- Maria Jose Cristerna aka “La Mujer Vampiro” (Vampire Woman) is the mother of four children and a fuckin’ lawyer. She started her transformation after getting out of an abusive marriage, and has talked out against domestic violence.
- Rick Genest aka Rico The Zombie is a fucking international model, has more sponsorships than any of us could ever hope, and was featured in Lady Gaga’s Born This Way video. Not bad for a 27-year old former homeless punk, I’d say.
reblogging for the well researched and accurate shut down, good work mate
"Psychedelic experience is only a glimpse of genuine mystical insight, but a glimpse which can be matured and deepened by the various ways of meditation in which drugs are no longer necessary or useful. If you get the message, hang up the phone. For psychedelic drugs are simply instruments, like microscopes, telescopes, and telephones. The biologist does not sit with eye permanently glued to the microscope, he goes away and works on what he has seen."
~ Alan Watts
Between this and the story about him reassuring F. Scott Fitzgerald re dick size, I’m developing a picture of Hemingway as the mother hen of the disaffected white male literary set of the early 20th century.
He probably called up Steinbeck sometimes and was like I CAN’T EVEN WITH THESE DIPSHITS and Steinbeck was all “That’s what you get for living in Paris, asshole”.
What To Do When Your Boyfriend’s Asshole Best Friend Says, “Hey, Never Trust Anything That Bleeds For Seven Days And Doesn’t Die,
OR The Only Poem I’ll Ever Write About Periods.
Don’t excuse him because he’s had
at least three lite beers
and is sweating through his black button down
that his mom or exgirlfriend
probably bought him.
Don’t excuse him because he’s been turned down
by the last six girls he went on dates with
after meeting them on tindr
with a picture that’s seven years old
Don’t excuse him because
he’s usually such a nice guy
because you don’t want to be a bitch
because you don’t want to cause a scene
because when you were seventeen
your sister told you
no one likes an angry feminist
Let me explain something to you.
Every goddamn motherfucking month since I was eleven,
a part of me
tore itself to shreds
ripped itself apart inside me
and then remade itself.
So yes, I bleed for seven days
and I don’t die
You know what else can do that?
Things of legend.
Fuck, I can even
So I say, never trust anything that can’t
bleed for seven days and not die.
You know what that makes it?
So let’s see, hon,
What you’re made of.
If you can bleed for seven days
and not die.
Rip out his jugular with your teeth.
And when he bleeds for seven seconds
spit on his corpse and say,
I thought not.