Post Random Jorge-Related Thoughts You Have

[Jorge]

Jorge, tell us about that quadriptych above your TV. what is it?

is it a quadriptych?

Hehe yes it is a quadriptych of Marc Chagall's Over the Town

[Jorge]

and what's behind that red curtain?

Just a small balcony with a view to the building in front of me. The big balcony with the nice view is on the other end of the apartment, next to the bedrooms

[doug rr]

Jorge, tell us about that quadriptych above your TV. what is it?

is it a quadriptych?

Hehe yes it is a quadriptych of Marc Chagall's Over the Town

nice..I love Chagall..when I met my wife she mentioned she was a huge fan as well...I tore a page out of a Chagall book of the drunkard and sent it to her..

[96583UP]

how are you in your walk with Christ

[Jorge]

I don't like him

[96583UP]

yeah me neither

[Jammer XCI]

Jorge De Guzman was my favorite Better Call Saul character

[96583UP]

fr tho what a nice looking little gathering you look like you have nice friends

i would like to come hang out some time

i would start out very polite and interesting/engaged conversational, without a trace of inappropriate humor

and then inevitably the party will devolve into me slapping people’s asses and wearing that paper towel roll poking out the front of the crotch of my pants and asking people to come wipe their hands

and then we will karaoke

and then vomit and sleep

[Jorge]

Thanks. Those are only a few of my hundreds of friends. I am widely beloved.

[Malloy]

if i lived in the same city as jorge and we hungout id lead a more fulfilling, happier life

[Ello Sailor]

You'd also do nasty hot sauce poops tho.

[Jorge]

if i lived in the same city as jorge and we hungout id lead a more fulfilling, happier life

[Chris_H_2]

When Malloy saw only one set of footprints,
It was then that Jorge carried him.

[dad]

if i lived in the same city as jorge and we hungout id lead a more fulfilling, happier life

art really does imitate life.

[96583UP]

oh man i wish i was that dress

[tragabigzanda]

There is a wolf in me . . . fangs pointed for tearing gashes . . . a red tongue for raw meat . . . and the hot lapping of blood—I keep this wolf because the wilderness gave it to me and the wilderness will not let it go.

There is a fox in me . . . a silver-gray fox . . . I sniff and guess . . . I pick things out of the wind and air . . . I nose in the dark night and take sleepers and eat them and hide the feathers . . . I circle and loop and double-cross.

There is a hog in me . . . a snout and a belly . . . a machinery for eating and grunting . . . a machinery for sleeping satisfied in the sun—I got this too from the wilderness and the wilderness will not let it go.

There is a fish in me . . . I know I came from salt-blue water-gates . . . I scurried with shoals of herring . . . I blew waterspouts with porpoises . . . before land was . . . before the water went down . . . before Noah . . . before the first chapter of Genesis.

There is a baboon in me . . . clambering-clawed . . . dog-faced . . . yawping a galoot's hunger . . . hairy under the armpits . . . here are the hawk-eyed hankering men . . . here are the blonde and blue-eyed women . . . here they hide curled asleep waiting . . . ready to snarl and kill . . . ready to sing and give milk . . . waiting—I keep the baboon because the wilderness says so.

There is an eagle in me and a mockingbird . . . and the eagle flies among the Rocky Mountains of my dreams and fights among the Sierra crags of what I want . . . and the mockingbird warbles in the early forenoon before the dew is gone, warbles in the underbrush of my Chattanoogas of hope, gushes over the blue Ozark foothills of my wishes—And I got the eagle and the mockingbird from the wilderness.

O, I got a zoo, I got a menagerie, inside my ribs, under my bony head, under my red-valve heart—and I got something else: it is a man-child heart, a woman-child heart: it is a father and mother and lover: it came from God-Knows-Where: it is going to God-Knows-Where—For I am the keeper of the zoo: I say yes and no: I sing and kill and work: I am a pal of the world: I came from the wilderness.

[Malloy]

[tragabigzanda]

There is a wolf in me . . . fangs pointed for tearing gashes . . . a red tongue for raw meat . . . and the hot lapping of blood—I keep this wolf because the wilderness gave it to me and the wilderness will not let it go.

There is a fox in me . . . a silver-gray fox . . . I sniff and guess . . . I pick things out of the wind and air . . . I nose in the dark night and take sleepers and eat them and hide the feathers . . . I circle and loop and double-cross.

There is a hog in me . . . a snout and a belly . . . a machinery for eating and grunting . . . a machinery for sleeping satisfied in the sun—I got this too from the wilderness and the wilderness will not let it go.

There is a fish in me . . . I know I came from salt-blue water-gates . . . I scurried with shoals of herring . . . I blew waterspouts with porpoises . . . before land was . . . before the water went down . . . before Noah . . . before the first chapter of Genesis.

There is a baboon in me . . . clambering-clawed . . . dog-faced . . . yawping a galoot's hunger . . . hairy under the armpits . . . here are the hawk-eyed hankering men . . . here are the blonde and blue-eyed women . . . here they hide curled asleep waiting . . . ready to snarl and kill . . . ready to sing and give milk . . . waiting—I keep the baboon because the wilderness says so.

There is an eagle in me and a mockingbird . . . and the eagle flies among the Rocky Mountains of my dreams and fights among the Sierra crags of what I want . . . and the mockingbird warbles in the early forenoon before the dew is gone, warbles in the underbrush of my Chattanoogas of hope, gushes over the blue Ozark foothills of my wishes—And I got the eagle and the mockingbird from the wilderness.

O, I got a zoo, I got a menagerie, inside my ribs, under my bony head, under my red-valve heart—and I got something else: it is a man-child heart, a woman-child heart: it is a father and mother and lover: it came from God-Knows-Where: it is going to God-Knows-Where—For I am the keeper of the zoo: I say yes and no: I sing and kill and work: I am a pal of the world: I came from the wilderness.

[Jorge]

Thanks, looks great. I'll try to hit Cafe Habana at least

[96583UP]

maison premiere

wonderful

i remember when they first opened