Well well, isn’t this a sly, natty and forceful blast from
the past. Gotta love those colors. At least I do. I also loved the
smell of cardboard. I do not want my disease to return. Everything
comes down to strange electronic forms of music. Or does it? I
don’t think mascara or snakes are talking to me but I could be wrong at this
point. I know its my destiny. I need to find my fingerless gloves
though it is sadly true that I cannot run faster than the speed of light.
Hahaha, l laugh to myself (piss dripping off my face) hahaha. I have made
cameo appearances in the lives of so many people. He could not handle the
voices. Do you remember that? Kyle could not handle the
voices. Chiquita banana. Everything comes down to this. Let
me put my life on the line! There was limbo, there is always limbo at
critical junctures.
This desire for harmony is most inappropriate. I was a guest inside a formerly forbidden home and all the while I let my insides rot away. I asked a question and it took the whole world by storm. No, that isn’t entirely true. But it was two in that singular moment and though time was moving at its standard rate he had trouble reconciling the most basic of changes. Intimacy locked inside a voice and rhythm. That is just so much tortured bullshit. Yet, there is a feeling locked away somewhere, the meaning of which is only known to one person.
His thoughts turned to the avant garde. Breaking the codes and finding out what you know and pleas of mercy. But he was merely a humble observer between a siren and a creator. Clothes and bottles and seduction and new life. On the floor. He asked his friend if there would be disappointment in the air and his friend responded with the impossibility of that outcome. Formal training is not needed. Oh you poor soul, what would happen if this spilled out all over the table? There would be swift excommunication at the very least.
I made spicy Italian sausage meatloaf last night and consumed it with sides of mashed potatoes and something else and washed it down with a glass of purifying water. You know, the album Iggy Pop released earlier this year – Post Pop Depression – really is quite great and I listen to it often. It couples well with Blackstar. I saw a vinyl copies of Peter Gabriel’s first 3 albums at Ye Olde Conglomerate the other day and they looked so lovely I wanted to purchase them and then remove the plastic, wrap the plastic tight around my face and then just stare at them. But I did not do this. I merely coveted them. I love coveting. I am fueled by greed. My darkness, my hatred, is unending. Those are great albums though, I refuse to deny it. I have strong desire to drink gallons and gallons of steak sauce and if I’m lucky I just might get me wish!
I think We Turn Red is going to be the first song I attempt to learn from The Getaway. I feel like it is within my capabilities (though I could be dead wrong) and I love the mix of punk, funk and beautiful melodicism in the relatively short tune. I would love to learn Encore but the fingering is a bit challenging for a loser like yours falsely so mayhaps I will work my way up to that one.
Everything about love and loss can be found in the albums Achtung Baby by U2 and Pies Descalzos by Shakira. Those will be with me forever. You know, I have the movie The Piano on in the background and I am frequently thrown off by different Holly Hunter looks in comparison to her recent role in Batman v Superman: Dawn of Justice. Granted, more than two decades have passed but I’m still going into convulsions due to the shock. That’s not a knock against her though. I think she’s purty in both flicks (and I’m sure she feels very validated now that I’ve given my approval) but she just looks wildly chaotically, anarchistically different! I would swear to my dying day they are two different people but I guess I would be dead wrong! I gotta say though: the blu ray transfer of The Piano is not overly impressive. Damn you Miramax!
I suppose we are all whores in our own special way. I am baffled by all these cravings, none more baffling than my own. Our hearts are ugly rotten and pathetic things. We’re just lying in wait somewhere. It would be nice to make the decision not to talk anymore because maybe it would mean no one would talk to me anymore. Our bodies are rather disgusting. We are always clinging to a fantasy. There is one passing through my head at this very moment and it is tinted blue. But in every moment we are dependent on something which does not and can never exist. What sad things we are. It is so repulsive and unnatural how we try to force ourselves to come together and we pretend that our struggles and desire actually means something.
I love when parents think it’s okay to let their children scream and run around and open and shut doors in offices. People breed far too much these days. People are stupid. I’m speaking so frankly. Maybe that’s because I have a craving for Ballpark Franks! They plump when you cook em. If someone were to eat me I’d like to plump when cooked. I will just never understand. That’s the sad truth of it. Green eyes. Blue. Grey. The queen up above. I have used far too many pedestals in my time. I never quite got the symbolism of it all. probably because I’m just a blathering idiot. The Love Symbol album by Prince is one my all time favorites. It’s a cornucopia of color and sound. Simply beautiful. I find the album sounds best during the summer months but maybe autumn as well. I’ve never understood anything. Not really. Take an active interest. It is an extension of ourselves. Will she protect and forgive me? I’m looking forward to reading George Clinton’s biography. Perhaps once I’ve finished with the current book I’m reading. Man, The Piano really is great. Maybe I was wrong about that transfer! Only time and repeated viewings will tell. And Under the Skin. One of my faves from the past couple years. Pure love.
I’m dangling precariously from a rope as my dirigible sails majestically past the full moon.
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