RIP David Hockney I had my first spiritual encounter with art when I was 11 years old, I was sitting on the toilet flipping through a book that my mom had just brought back from MoMA on her trip to New York. Each page was a different era of art and on the very last page was Hockney's Pearblossom Highway. I felt electricity surge through my body. I couldn't breathe. It was an indescribable feeling. I was frozen there, on the toilet, for several minutes. I remember this as clearly as if it were yesterday.
As a kid my most illogical fear during thunderstorms was that lightning would strike the ground, travel through the city water lines, go through the pipes in my house to the toilet, and then up my pee stream where it would blow my dick off
I'm sorry, I didn't realize Israel had now escalated to the "quadruple tap" where they just keep killing and killing as people try desperately to help the wounded