Please tell me about the Jesus Penis.
Scraping through the red dust of sunset, I took to forward glances like innocent children first daring to chances. That being said, this weekend seems like one slow drowning. But with good moments of shopping and stupidity thrown in for measure. I had to buy the Radiohead ‘limited edition’ version of Hail to the Theif. Of course I had copy, but I needed that stupid map. Even though I become ever less enchanted with them, their packaging is superb. Funny because they are so…whatever. But funny, too because it’s so good. The map, I mean.
Heath has reported to me that the two songs we just did do stand up to the test of…whatever litmus he uses. That makes me feel confident. His lighter praise is something that’s hard wrested from him, so it does amount to something more than it seems. Speaking of praise, I hate god. I saw enough pictures of Jesus yesterday to last a life time. Including one where he was an infant and uncircumcised. I had to wonder if the artist did that on purpose, since it was a French painting from some time during the Middle Ages. Was that a subtle rejection of the Jewish heritage? Does anyone know of this kind of obfuscation of fact in history? I refer to Jesus’ penis in particular, not the general clouding of fact in history, I’m aware of that happening. I just want to know of anything relating to the penis in history. Give me your cock stories. Please.
Saturday night revealed itself with little of interest. No one who said they were going out went out, and those who said they were not, did not. Sunday was spent getting to the MFA, walking around the MFA and then getting home. If this all seems like a tedious adventure, it wasn’t, for the most part, nor was it speckled with the kind of highlights you’d find funny if you weren’t there. And it was, but you weren’t, so you can’t and I won’t illuminate.
I’m going to see a revue of Noel Coward standards and classics next month. Finally. This world, or at least this hemisphere, seems happy to have forgotten him. I felt a pang of remorse the other day that he hadn’t taken the role of Dr. No because there was a 12-inch doll of the character. I could have had a Noel Coward doll. I don’t even want to tell you that I’d sleep with it. In the teddy bear sense, not the Billy Doll one.
~m
Heath has reported to me that the two songs we just did do stand up to the test of…whatever litmus he uses. That makes me feel confident. His lighter praise is something that’s hard wrested from him, so it does amount to something more than it seems. Speaking of praise, I hate god. I saw enough pictures of Jesus yesterday to last a life time. Including one where he was an infant and uncircumcised. I had to wonder if the artist did that on purpose, since it was a French painting from some time during the Middle Ages. Was that a subtle rejection of the Jewish heritage? Does anyone know of this kind of obfuscation of fact in history? I refer to Jesus’ penis in particular, not the general clouding of fact in history, I’m aware of that happening. I just want to know of anything relating to the penis in history. Give me your cock stories. Please.
Saturday night revealed itself with little of interest. No one who said they were going out went out, and those who said they were not, did not. Sunday was spent getting to the MFA, walking around the MFA and then getting home. If this all seems like a tedious adventure, it wasn’t, for the most part, nor was it speckled with the kind of highlights you’d find funny if you weren’t there. And it was, but you weren’t, so you can’t and I won’t illuminate.
I’m going to see a revue of Noel Coward standards and classics next month. Finally. This world, or at least this hemisphere, seems happy to have forgotten him. I felt a pang of remorse the other day that he hadn’t taken the role of Dr. No because there was a 12-inch doll of the character. I could have had a Noel Coward doll. I don’t even want to tell you that I’d sleep with it. In the teddy bear sense, not the Billy Doll one.
~m