Friday, December 30, 2011
I recently found clip on bangs. Yup. That's what I said. Clip on Bangs, and being the type that's super non committal about hair and rarely let an touch it as it is, this is a seemingly natural route for me to go. But after staring at it for a few hours, all I kept thinking was, it's a little hat made of hair. I would be George Costanza. I decide to email my cousin, who also has never been able to have adult bangs, a picture of this glorious invention. And this was her reply. A photoshopped pic of us with the hair hat. Amazing! My amazement turned into "pssshhhh um excuse me" because after all this time, people have been telling us that we should never get bangs because of our small foreheads. Well that is obviously not true, because we clearly look fantastic. Moe, eat your heart out.
Maybe it's because I haven't had a vacation in a fort night, maybe it's because I watched Mary Poppins a million times as a kid, and wish to see the lady feeding birds..for topins a bag, or maybe it's the sheer fact that I have grown to like fish and chips and BEER(kinda). The point is I need to go to London. Soon. February preferably. A client said they knew of a "flat" that we could use for the weekend that would be much more affordable then lodging at a hotel. In my mind I'm already there. It's cold and the streets are shiny and wet. I can hear my new chippy Londonite accent sinking in deeper and deeper. "Bob's your uncle! Bollocks, Rubbish!" Yes, yes London will suit me juuuuuust fine.
Thursday, December 29, 2011
My sad attempt to win my angel wings dress again on Ebay went a rye, it was a battle to the bitter end. 107.95$ (something like that) then 115.50$, 120.95$ and the damn thing went for a whopping 150.00. I cried on the inside, and thought, maybe I should just stick with my onesies from American Apparel, originally made cool by the one, the only, Christian Dior.
Thursday, December 15, 2011
There's nothing like a hazy overcast day with the Marie Antoinette soundtrack at your side.
This is why events unnerve me,
They find it all, a different story,
Notice whom for wheels are turning,
Turn again and turn towards this time,
All she ask's the strength to hold me,
Then again the same old story,
World will travel, oh so quickly,
Travel first and lean towards this time.
Oh, I'll break them down, no mercy shown,
Heaven knows, it's got to be this time,
Watching her, these things she said,
The times she cried,
Too frail to wake this time.
Oh I'll break them down, no mercy shown
Heaven knows, it's got to be this time,
Avenues all lined with trees,
Picture me and then you start watching,
Watching forever, forever,
Watching love grow, forever,
Letting me know, forever.
Martin Hannett/Joy Division/New Order
Tuesday, December 13, 2011
Thursday, December 8, 2011
I heard an ugly rumor that Art Garfunkel's uncle molested him. This could be just hear say, buuut it would explain a lot, for example, the horrific acting in the coming of age movie he did with Jack Nicholson, "Carnal Knowledge". I say horrific because he was so uncomfortably goofy about sex, that I it took my attention away from Jacks stellar performance of a cad. Jack is the king of making a cad look cool and still getting the girl. And I missed it! Because of Garfunkel's Dr. Drew issues! Do us all a favor, stick with singing like a girl Arty boy.
the flesh covers the bone
and they put a mind
in there and
sometimes a soul,
and the women break
vases against the walls
and the men drink too
and nobody finds the
crawling in and out
the bone and the
for more than
there's no chance
we are all trapped
by a singular
nobody ever finds
the city dumps fill
the junkyards fill
the madhouses fill
the hospitals fill
the graveyards fill
Poem by: Hank Buk
she's young, she said,
but look at me,
I have pretty ankles,
and look at my wrists, I have pretty
o my god,
I thought it was all working,
and now it's her again,
every time she phones you go crazy,
you told me it was over
you told me it was finished,
listen, I've lived long enough to become a
why do you need a bad woman?
you need to be tortured, don't you?
you think life is rotten if somebody treats you
rotten it all fits,
tell me, is that it? do you want to be treated like a
piece of shit?
and my son, my son was going to meet you.
I told my son
and I dropped all my lovers.
I stood up in a cafe and screamed
I'M IN LOVE,
and now you've made a fool of me. . .
I'm sorry, I said, I'm really sorry.
hold me, she said, will you please hold me?
I've never been in one of these things before, I said,
these triangles. . .
she got up and lit a cigarette, she was trembling all
over.she paced up and down,wild and crazy.she had
a small body.her arms were thin,very thin and when
she screamed and started beating me I held her
wrists and then I got it through the eyes:hatred,
centuries deep and true.I was wrong and graceless and
sick.all the things I had learned had been wasted.
there was no creature living as foul as I
and all my poems were
Poem by: Charles Bukowski
Tuesday, December 6, 2011
"Her great dark eyes surveyed me with emptiness and a kind of chagrin that reached back generations and generations in her blood from not having done what was crying to be done--whatever it was and everybody knows what it was." - On the Road Ch. 11