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"Durkheim divided suicide into four social types; egoistic, anomic, fatalistic, and altruistic assigning the first two to modern, western society while relegating the last two to pre-industrial social orders. However, contemporary studies of female suicidal behavior and depression show that such women exhibit personality characteristics of low self-esteem, passivity, dependence and living vicariously for others which correspond to the behavioral indices of impersonalism, submissiveness, passivity, and obedience that produce the lack of individuation characteristic of Durkheim’s altruistic/fatalistic suicide categories. On this basis, the author suggests that altruistic/fatalistic suicide may even in the modern world be relevant to the explanation of female suicidal behavior, a hypothesis which, if true, would support the contention that “men and women inhibit different social worlds.”"

— "Why do women kill themselves?" KK Johnson  (via toxicwinner)

(via sexyboy1998)

bluebird/charles bukowski from Luis Rivera on Vimeo.

Recuerdo el dia exacto cuando me enamore de la poesía, de la primera vez que unas cuantas palabras me sacudieron más que cualquiera otra creación humana. Despues de que tuviera la primera conversación genuina y honesta con un primo ahora querido y esmerarnos en un amor compartido en la música punk y la local, pase a examinar un pequeño estante con unos pocos libros, de los más voluminosos era una portada dura verde. Me pregunto que si me gustaba la poesía, con mi sí, siguió la pregunta que empezó todo esto.”Has leido Bukowski, verda?” “No, ni he escuchado de el.” Con una rapidez ligera saco esa biblia verde y paso unos cuantos poemas marcados con sticky notes hasta llegar al queridisimo “Bluebird”. Lo leyó impromptu en ese momento y nunca habia pensado en que la acidez de ese poema y la voz ronca de mi primo fuera la mezcla para lo sublime. Acostumbrado a la banalidad de lo que se pasaba en la escuela y lo poco que conocía yo, ese poema me azoto como resaca de lunes y mi vida nunca fue la misma. Por eso es digno este poema para empezar esta serie dedicada al gran maestro de honestidad. Mi “primer” poema/ una de sus obras más conocidas/ la oda al hombre moderno. Salud, Charles

I remember the exact day when I fall in love with poetry, the first time a few words shook me more than any other human creation. After I had the first genuine and honest conversation with my now loved cousin and lose ourselves in a shared love for punk and local music, i examined a small shelf with a few books, the most voluminous was a green hardcover. He asked me if I liked poetry and my yes, followed the question that started all this. “You’ve read Bukowski, right?” “No, haven’t even heard of him before.” With a quick step he grabbed that green bible and passed a few poems marked with sticky notes until the dearest “Bluebird”. He read it impromtu and at that time had never thought that the acidity of the poem and the hoarse voice of my cousin was the perfect mixture for the sublime. Accustomed to the banality of what i learnt at school and what little I knew, that poem slammed me like a hungover Monday and my life was never the same. So this poem is worthy to start this series dedicated to the great master of honesty. My “first” poem / one of his best known works / ode to the modern man. Cheers, Charles