embracing my inner Edina…
Edina Monsoon : I did tell you the facts of life didn’t I sweetie?
Saffron Monsoon : If you mean that time you sat on my bed and shook me awake at two in the morning, stoned out of your brain, and slurred into my ear ‘By the way sweetie, people have it off,’ then yes, you told me the facts of life. 
if you haven’t read drowningNOTwaving’s insightful and erudite review of Hero, go now and do so. that is an order. I’ll wait right here till you’re done…
too much information, running through my brain
too much information, driving me insane…
–the police
*T.M.I ALERT!!!* (faint of heart and stomach stop here)
Shaving…
I don’t have a problem with body hair, per se: it’s just fine on other people I just don’t care for it on myself. and while I’m not exactly vigilant about its removal, I do try to make an effort on a fairly cyclical basis. a clean sweep, as it were… I don’t bother with my arms or thighs as there’s precious little there to begin with. I don’t go right down to the skin in tender areas. it’s just not worth the ingrown hairs and the damned itching when it begins to grow out. on the day I shave I don’t wear makeup either. I likes to feel the clean all over. mmmmmmmmmm. I don’t feel gross when I don’t shave, just good when I do, so I guess that is a plus (and proof that the therapy “took”).
SO… do you shave anything? often? do you resent it or like it? if you don’t shave does the one you cuggle up to do so? I am just curious. you can tell me to piss up a rope if you like… it’s been a while since I’ve heard that and I’m feeling wistful.
I’m sure a moody bastard.
Canio
Recitar! Mentre presso dal delirio
non so più quel che dico e quel che faccio!
Eppur è d’uopo… sforzati!
Bah! sei tu forse un uom?
Tu se’ Pagliaccio!
Vesti la giubba e la faccia infarina.
La gente paga e rider vuole qua.
E se Arlecchin t’invola Colombina,
ridi, Pagliaccio… e ognun applaudirà!
Tramuta in lazzi lo spasmo ed il pianto;
in una smorfia il singhiozzo e’l dolor…
Ridi, Pagliaccio, sul tuo amore in franto!
Ridi del duol t’avvelena il cor!
this may just be the best song EVER (although white stripes hotel yorba’s pretty sweet too…):
‘No Children’ by the Mountain Goats (mp3)
I hope that our few remaining friends
give up on trying to save us.
I hope we come out with a fail-safe plot
to piss off the dumb few that forgave us.
I hope the fences we mended
fall down beneath their own weight.
And I hope we hang on past the last exit,
I hope it’s already too late.
And I hope the junkyard a few blocks from here
someday burns down.
And I hope the rising black smoke carries me far away,
and I never come back to this town again.
In my life, I hope I lie,
and tell everyone you were a good wife.
And I hope you die,
I hope we both die.
I hope I cut myself shaving tomorrow;
I hope it bleeds all day long.
Our friends say it’s darkest before the sun rises;
we’re pretty sure they’re all wrong.
I hope it stays dark forever,
I hope the worst isn’t over.
And I hope you blink before I do,
and I hope I never get sober.
And I hope when you think of me years down the line,
you can’t find one good thing to say.
And I’d hope that if I found the strength to walk out,
you’d stay the hell out of my way.
I am drowning.
There is no sign of land.
You are coming down with me,
hand in unlovable hand.
And I hope you die,
I hope we both die.
HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA! mercury retrograde:
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I thought this worth a rerun…
Elizabeth Barrett Browning would be shocked:
How in the hell do I LOVE thee? Shut your mouth when I’m asking for answers. Are you ready to burn? Let my stupid ass count the fucking ways.
I LOVE thee to the fucking depth and breadth and height
My cockgobbling soul can reach, when feeling out of sight
For the fucking ends of Being and ideal Grace. I should snap your porkhole.
I LOVE thee to the fucking level of every fucking day’s
Most quiet need, by sun and candlelight. You are a fuckhead.
I LOVE thee freely, as lame assholes strive for Right;
I LOVE thee purely, as them ass-riders turn from Praise.
I LOVE with a passion put to use
In my scabby old griefs, and with my motherfucking childhood’s faith.
I LOVE thee with a LOVE I seemed to fuckin’ lose
With my fucking lost saints, — I LOVE thee with the fucking breath,
Smiles, tears, of all my fucking life! — and, if God choose,
I shall but LOVE thee, cracked crispy fuckmonster, better after death.
——————————–
Burned by the Burnmaker!
* http://toy.thespark.com/burn *
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