let's dance to joy divison!
Tomorrow: Going to a Joy Division/New Order tribute concert.
Asylums with doors open wide,
Where people had paid to see inside,
For entertainment they watch his body twist
Behind his eyes he says, 'I still exist.'
This is the way, step inside.
This is the way, step inside.
This is the way, step inside.
This is the way, step inside.
Nothing like depressing post-punk poetry to get you pumped for Crimbus. :P
For my Christmas Work Party (at the restaurant where I work), I brought over my 2 guy friends, Jerry and Blake. I want Blake, with his polos and his exquisite bee-hind. He makes black slacks look GOOD. And the cute, slight German speech impediment. His "well" sounds like "wull". I asked him to Prom, and he's evaded.. but now he's leaning towards, "wull, if I can." Which means yes. ;)
But what, then, do I do? I spill Bloody Mary drink all in my car, with Blake driving me home and Jerry in the back... I'm so ridiculous sometimes. And after I sober up, I take them home. And I get into Jerry's bed, laughing and laughing and laughing. I won't shut up. It's not even laughter: I maniacally cackle like a nymph or a witch.
Maybe, subconsciously, I realized the irony of my whole life--wanting one man, then getting into bed with his friend. The bed is the sacred ground and I almost soiled any integrity I may have had. Close call.
See the above video? Skim to 5:00, and observe how hilariously quirky Carl Sagan is (the salt shaker, "GANYMEEEEEDE, REEEEEEENG" [I'm pretty sure that's where Conan O'Brien gets his Neeeeerd Imitation]). Honestly, I'm in love with the Homeboi Carl.
Not to mention his combination of effeminate hip movements and masculine over-indulgent hand motions. I don't like to be all idolatrous.. but Sagan is as close as you can get to perfect when it comes to human intelligence. Constantly thoughtful, constantly provoking, constantly wondering about the world and beyond the world.
The universe never ceases to amaze me, and Sagan has reignited my passion for inquiry and understanding.
Asylums with doors open wide,
Where people had paid to see inside,
For entertainment they watch his body twist
Behind his eyes he says, 'I still exist.'
This is the way, step inside.
This is the way, step inside.
This is the way, step inside.
This is the way, step inside.
Nothing like depressing post-punk poetry to get you pumped for Crimbus. :P
For my Christmas Work Party (at the restaurant where I work), I brought over my 2 guy friends, Jerry and Blake. I want Blake, with his polos and his exquisite bee-hind. He makes black slacks look GOOD. And the cute, slight German speech impediment. His "well" sounds like "wull". I asked him to Prom, and he's evaded.. but now he's leaning towards, "wull, if I can." Which means yes. ;)
But what, then, do I do? I spill Bloody Mary drink all in my car, with Blake driving me home and Jerry in the back... I'm so ridiculous sometimes. And after I sober up, I take them home. And I get into Jerry's bed, laughing and laughing and laughing. I won't shut up. It's not even laughter: I maniacally cackle like a nymph or a witch.
Maybe, subconsciously, I realized the irony of my whole life--wanting one man, then getting into bed with his friend. The bed is the sacred ground and I almost soiled any integrity I may have had. Close call.
Click to viewSee the above video? Skim to 5:00, and observe how hilariously quirky Carl Sagan is (the salt shaker, "GANYMEEEEEDE, REEEEEEENG" [I'm pretty sure that's where Conan O'Brien gets his Neeeeerd Imitation]). Honestly, I'm in love with the Homeboi Carl.
Not to mention his combination of effeminate hip movements and masculine over-indulgent hand motions. I don't like to be all idolatrous.. but Sagan is as close as you can get to perfect when it comes to human intelligence. Constantly thoughtful, constantly provoking, constantly wondering about the world and beyond the world.
The universe never ceases to amaze me, and Sagan has reignited my passion for inquiry and understanding.