And The Ass Saw The Angel by Nick Cave
Investigation into the disappearance of the Black Range travelers (the ‘Morton’ was added to the name officially in 1902) led to the discovery and subsequent disposal of a one Toad Morton, or as the press-gang tagged him, Black Morton. A low-minded, wart-worried giant, Toad had been driven from the Morton clan by his own kin, after they found the family hog dead in its pen, covered in flies and human teeth marks- its back leg had been bitten clean off. Finding Toad covered in pig shit and sucking a trotter, they had chased him out of the Morton’s valley to roam the gullies and gulches of the out-hills, a sore Goliath shunned by his own blood, without friend of companion save the league of demons that rubbed and itched amongst the crags and sunless cracks of his bad, mad and unholy brain.
BE STILL MY HEART.
In an effort to work my way through some shitty 90’s slasher movies, I’m watching the I Know What You Did Last Summer duo, which yielded this awesome still.
Brandy, hahaha.
No Longer at Ease by Chinua Achebe
Four years in England had filled Obi with a longing to be back in Umuofia. This feeling was sometimes so strong that he found himself feeling ashamed of studying English for his degree. He spoke Ibo whenever he had the least opportunity of doing so. Nothing gave him greater pleasure than to find another Ibo-speaking student in a London bus. But when he had to speak English with a Nigerian student from another tribe he lowered his voice. It was humiliating to have to speak to one’s countryman in a foreign language, especially in the presence of the proud owners of that language. They would naturally assume that one had no language of one’s own. He wished they were here today to see. Let them come to Umuofia now and listen to the talk of men who made a great art of conversation. Let them come and see men and women and children who knew how to live, whose joy of life had not yet been killed by those who claimed to teach other nations how to live.
