Merrick: “I AM NOT AN ANIMAL!”*
me: “Beg your pardon?”
Merrick: “I AM NOT AN ANIMAL. I AM A HUMAN BEING!”
me: “I hear you.”
Merrick:
me: “Say. What’s all that shit on your head, man?”
Merrick: “I AM NOT AN ANIMAL!”*
me: “Beg your pardon?”
Merrick: “I AM NOT AN ANIMAL. I AM A HUMAN BEING!”
me: “I hear you.”
Merrick:
me: “Say. What’s all that shit on your head, man?”
judges – I need a ruling – is this ‘Ghost’ thing inclusive or limited to that of Richard Braugtigan – if it’s inclusive, then Bingo!
Nice article, I thought.
I know I’m a bad person for this but when they were rerunning that movie and they got to the scene where they’re talking about taking John Merrick to a restaurant, I sat there on the sofa saying “PLEASE OH PLEASE let him order spaghetti.” The slurping would have been what it took to take that movie over the top.
Laughed out loud. I either have a keen eye for comedy or I’m a complete putz, though I suppose both are possible.
I made myself giggle. And I’m definitely a putz. So, if you’d like to use me as a litmus test…
OK, Ouzomandias, I don’t often laugh out loud for a sustained period of time, but that one got me good.
At a comment on a blog, that is.
John Merrick is dead?
In a different dream I was visiting the family ranch in Mexico, again finding myself without my camera. The dream was lush and haunting and beautiful in a way I’ ve never dreamed before, intense and, ultimately, so melancholy my heart wanted to break; in the dream my every sense was hyperalert, and the details of the arid and rolling scrub of northern Mexico were clearer, broader, more vivid, more alive than at any previous time in any of my dreams before. Breathtaking, the dream may have been visualized…