The trial of Gilberto Valle, the “Cannibal Cop” began in Manhattan this week. The New York Police Officer is charged with Federal kidnapping conspiracy. The charge sheet can be found here. The evidence consists largely of e-mails and instant messages in which Officer Valle was “discussing plans to kidnap, rape, torture, kill, cook and eat body parts of a number of women.”
His defence team is arguing that this was just a sexual fantasy and that Valle had no intention of carrying out any of these crimes.
I was wandering around YouTube the other day, when the service recommended this video — X-Men Origins: Wolverine — as something that should interest me based on my previous watch patterns. I was surprised YouTube wanted me to view a trailer for a video game, because I really only watch Blues videos. When the Wolverine clip began playing, I was immediately incensed by disgust and fury because of the blatant blood and gory exploitation:
What do our dreams tell us? Do our dreams reveal secret wants? Or do our dreams give us permission to envision the extraordinary? Do we really want to tempt the Gods by mapping our dreams to publicly divine and then tie our inner desires to our cognitive reality?
Pareidolia is an interesting phenomenon that reveals how our human minds are programmed to give randomized visual and audible forms experientially recognizable features like faces, spoken meaning and known objects.
by Steve Gaines
lacking the cliffs of Acapulco
in the flatlands of Nebraska
we discovered the tops of light poles
in the summer of nineteen fifty-five
in the long story of teenagers coming of age
coming on to the approaches of manhood
climbing out on that limb unsuspecting
by María L. Trigos-Gilbert
Some of you may think surrealism is a plastic art term, from the paintings and sculptures that different artists create. Yet when I think about Ana María Matute, I associate her with Mr. Salvador Dalí, the most famous Spaniard surrealist painter. Mrs. Matute is pretty much a surrealist, though I’m not so sure if she would appreciate this title to her writing.
The first time I read one of Mrs. Matute’s work, I felt hypnotized. I wanted to keep reading, thought the short fiction came to an end. My eyes kept staring at the last words, “Yes, yes, yes.” There were so many possible answers since Mrs. Matute had left the readers’ imagination and content to fill in the explicit questions or arguments. I became at that very moment one of those expected readers, looking for answers.