E-mail: Brian7Morris "at" hotmail.com Archives March 2002 April 2002 May 2002 June 2002 July 2002 August 2002 September 2002 October 2002 November 2002 December 2002 January 2003 February 2003 March 2003 April 2003 May 2003 June 2003 July 2003 August 2003 September 2003 October 2003 November 2003 December 2003 January 2004 February 2004 March 2004 April 2004 May 2004 June 2004 July 2004 August 2004 September 2004 October 2004 November 2004 December 2004 January 2005 February 2005 March 2005 April 2005 May 2005 June 2005 July 2005 August 2005 September 2005 October 2005 November 2005 December 2005 current Blogs Mandapants farkleberries Uranium City Records The C.M. Sienko Foundation Storyteller Musings Solotarian Views Lynne Wiora Tek Poker News Blog Some Biscuits Evil Eye Emporium Niggling Doubts Pressure Release Sara as Mommy runswithscissors Defective Yeti Afternoon Delight trancejen The Terrarium Bird Nird Slipperily Tofu Hut Stereo Gum Links Fixed Gear Gallery Get Crafty This is Grand Featherproof Books Gapers Block Chicago Bird Watching	No one must know my terrible secret... House of Noh! Saturday, February 05, 2005 I’ve been watching this PBS series about psychology. A particular episode I saw about a week ago dealt with theories on how childhood mental state affects physical condition - even the physical shape, growth, and build of people. Part of the documentary featured the life of J.M. Barrie, the author of Peter Pan. J.M. had a brother who died at a young age in some really tragic way. As it turns out, J.M.’s brother was his mom’s favorite, and she never really recovered from the loss. She spent the rest of her years in bed giving J.M. shit and whenever J.M. tried to visit her room she’d be like, “Oh, it’s you, I was hoping it’d be your brother because I never really loved you, you un-wanted, decrepit, rotten, vinegar-smelling sour fruit of my loins. According to the PBS series, this kind of treatment hurt J.M.’s feelings so bad his hippocampus got all fucked up or his pituitary got plugged or something, and that’s why he never grew up (in real life!). The PBS series showed an old daguerreotype or something of J.M. at his writing desk when he was fifty-something years old, and it’s true - he looked kind a like a really old kid, like those kids you sometimes see on Maury Povich (I’m just mentioning the Maury kids for comparison purposes, I’m not saying that the Maury kids’ parents are jerks.) J.M. Barrie went on to live a lonely, tortured life, albeit never growing up, but he really like writing. I guess he was a really prolific but his stories’ protagonist was always a child who had never grown up - Peter Pan was just the one that went all Hollywood. To further illustrate what the PBS series claimed was the result of J.M. Barrie’s childhood emotional trauma, the series mentioned that it was discovered, after J.M. passed away, that he had never grown pubic hair and that his testicles had never descended (you know, like down out of his body and into his beanbag). Only after J.M. Barrie’s burial were his written last wishes discovered. He had made only one post-mortem request. It was this: “I’ve got an idea, assholes, how about after I’m dead you leave me some dignity and stay the fuck out of my pants!” Brian 3:54 PM Comments: Post a Comment

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House of Noh!

Saturday, February 05, 2005

I’ve been watching this PBS series about psychology. A particular episode I saw about a week ago dealt with theories on how childhood mental state affects physical condition - even the physical shape, growth, and build of people. Part of the documentary featured the life of J.M. Barrie, the author of Peter Pan. J.M. had a brother who died at a young age in some really tragic way. As it turns out, J.M.’s brother was his mom’s favorite, and she never really recovered from the loss. She spent the rest of her years in bed giving J.M. shit and whenever J.M. tried to visit her room she’d be like, “Oh, it’s you, I was hoping it’d be your brother because I never really loved you, you un-wanted, decrepit, rotten, vinegar-smelling sour fruit of my loins. According to the PBS series, this kind of treatment hurt J.M.’s feelings so bad his hippocampus got all fucked up or his pituitary got plugged or something, and that’s why he never grew up (in real life!). The PBS series showed an old daguerreotype or something of J.M. at his writing desk when he was fifty-something years old, and it’s true - he looked kind a like a really old kid, like those kids you sometimes see on Maury Povich (I’m just mentioning the Maury kids for comparison purposes, I’m not saying that the Maury kids’ parents are jerks.) J.M. Barrie went on to live a lonely, tortured life, albeit never growing up, but he really like writing. I guess he was a really prolific but his stories’ protagonist was always a child who had never grown up - Peter Pan was just the one that went all Hollywood. To further illustrate what the PBS series claimed was the result of J.M. Barrie’s childhood emotional trauma, the series mentioned that it was discovered, after J.M. passed away, that he had never grown pubic hair and that his testicles had never descended (you know, like down out of his body and into his beanbag). Only after J.M. Barrie’s burial were his written last wishes discovered. He had made only one post-mortem request. It was this: “I’ve got an idea, assholes, how about after I’m dead you leave me some dignity and stay the fuck out of my pants!”

Brian 3:54 PM

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House of Noh!

Saturday, February 05, 2005