Kahlil Gibran, "The Prophet"

Today is one of my 'awake' days .. I was in Santa Cruz running some errands, and decided to enjoy the rest of the afternoon there. After my errands were done, I went to relax at dentist-office-turned-coffee-house Cafe Pergolesi; this is my favorite coffee house on the planet .. during my college years, I had spent countless hours studying under the lone palm tree towering over the patio. This is a fun place to hang out and people watch: bikers, students, surfers and local thrill-seekers gravitate to this place as if it was their own secret hide-out.

Leafing through the local publications was unsatisfying, so I looked in my rucksack to see what else I had brought along to read. Under piles of paperwork was a thin, small book reminiscent of an address book. A friend had lent me Kahlil Gibran's "The Prophet" a few months back, and I had made a few half-hearted attempts at reading it. I had never gotten pass a paragraph or two at each reading attempt. This is pathetic, considering the book is just simply a long poem spanning a few pages. The atmosphere in Santa Cruz was the catalyst needed to actually read it; a matter of fact, I read it twice this afternoon because it was so inspiring. I wish I had 'discovered' this book years ago .. so much wisdom is instilled within its words. If not already, then I encourage you to read (or re-read) it.

"Love has no other desire but to fulfill itself."

- Kahlil Gibran, "The Prophet"

On a side note, there's a parody of this by Kehlog Albran, "The Profit" .. it's a must read!

Got reading suggestion?
another point of view ...

Anonymous Anonymous


But if you ever need a good solid laugh, there is
another book, I swear, called:

"The Profit" by Kehlog Albran

It has been 20 years since I read this book, but it is
a riot. Here are some excerpts I found from the web:

Kehlog Albran

1933 - 1927

Man will never penetrate outer space.
- Albran, August 1942

Man will never penetrate outer space without a
rocket.
- Albran, August 1962

"HIS POWER came from some great reservoir of
distilled water, else it could not have been so
transparent yet liquid, so apparently lacking
sophistication while at the same time actually lacking
sophistication. So tasteless, yet wet."
- CLIVE RODNEY FARK

KEHLOG ALBRAN was a lifelong member of the Diner's
Club and did much of his most creative writing there.
His style was that of a man with a much larger brain.
Born in Brest-Litovsk, much of his earlier work was
published in his native dialect, in which language he
is still greatly revered. In an area embracing several
hectares in that city, he is still looked upon as a
demi-god. His drawings and paintings have been
exhibited in Quito, Ecuador. His artistic and literary
style have been compared by Chester Gould to the work
of Ernest Bushmiller and by Bushmiller to the work of
Gould. Upon moving to America, his great desires were
to write in his adopted language, English, to make a
million dollars, and to retire from pseudo-philosophy
so that he might open a chain of laundromats. It is
the world's loss that he never succeeded in writing in
English.

During much of Albran's lifetime, he was widely
thought to be dead. This confusion was the result of
the trance-like state Albran affected at public
appearances. Conversely, as one might expect of so
mystical a figure, after his death many of his
followers continued to believe him still alive.
Various schools or sects ultimately developed: the
Albran Lives School, the Albran Never Lived School and
the Two Albrans Faction.

Though a rationale for these conflicting factions can
be attributed to Albran's erratic behavior and
lifeless appearance in public, in private life Albran
was a different person. Given to high comradeship and
practical jokes, he once commented that the Whoopie
Cushion had done more for mankind's betterment than
Marx, Christ and Oral Roberts together.

Though a man of spirit, he was also a man of the
flesh. He especially enjoyed having a thin stream of
his favorite beverage (Dubonnet and Diet-Rite) poured
into his mouth by a lady friend while he lay in a
transparent Plexiglas bathtub filled with blueberry
yogurt.

To the accusations that he was a whoremonger and
womanizer, he frequently replied, "Oh yeah?" Or,
sometimes, "So was Rasputin!"

That he is indeed dead is now an undisputed fact,
though the date of death remains shrouded in mystery
as a result of Albran's own diabolical scheme. His
glossy but perfectly preserved body was discovered
months or perhaps years later by his literary agent in
the tiny, austere room in which he spent his final
years. Apparently sensing that the end was near,
Albran had hung a five gallon plastic bag of shellac
on the ceiling immediately over the chair where he
spent so much of his time watching daytime television.
As his hand slipped from the arm of the chair, it
pulled a wire releasing the shellac which coated his
entire body and most of the chair to a depth exceeding
a quarter of an inch in many places. Thus, Albran
contributed to his own immortality, as well as that of
the chair.
 

Anonymous Anonymous


Ola!

Stendahl's Love (1822)

- universal

Amazon - http://makeashorterlink.com/?U13C25CAA


Which I discovered through Jorn Barger's "Solace: a textbook of
romantic psychology"
http://www.robotwisdom.com/solace/index.html

Hours of great reading there.

:)

a
 

Anonymous Anonymous


Stumbled onto your blog, really liked what you had to say. I'm bookmarking it, and will be back.

I remember reading this book in college, and I'm getting it for my daughter's birthday next week. It's a treat to read the stuff here.

- Dan Gilman
 

speak up!


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