I make aged Khmer women who sell Banana cake laugh. It's strange how I've achieved my life goal so early on, but I'm satisfied. For the softer side I indulge in old favorites:
Redemption through dance
Soul Larceny
"Generally" speaking:
Rosemary. If I had a baby named Rosemary, I would pick her in the prime of her youth and use her to season a roast. This is why I will not have a baby and name her Rosemary.
And... Whisky and Whiskey.
Ausschneidung
Trout Fishing
Riding bikes and then breaking my face
Farmer's Markets
Indulgences
Salsa
This:
Yes, that's right. That fucking ridiculous thing is my interest. In other words, scowling bitches are what interest me. Don't hate.
i) der simm von sein überhaupt
ii) pretty men to tell me pretty lies.
iii) "In his new boots Joe Buck was six-foot-one and life was different. As he walked out of that store in Houston something snapped in the whole bottom half of him: A kind of power he never even knew was there had been released in his pelvis and he was able to feel the world through it. Brand-new muscles came into play in his buttocks and in his legs, and he was aware of a totally new attitude towards the sidewalk. The world was down there, and he was way up here, on top of it, and the space between him and it was now commanded by a beautiful strange animal, himself, Joe Buck. He was strong. He was exultant. He was ready.
"I'm ready," he said to himself, and he wondered what he meant by that.
My music is the singular unfolding, self presentation of that which posits itself out of itself. This is the beauty of actually hearing.
Only the ones that involve the gratuitous use of banana hammocks and six packs.
the office, fishing with john and meow mix commercials paired with cheese and other cheesy things. Television is good with cheese.
I'm mainly interested in the reflections of virgins. That and dirty old men. Especially dirty old men that are virgins. Those are the dirtiest.
Renegade French Philosopher and Psychoanalyst collaborations and dirty, impoverished Russians are equally brutal pleasures I concern myself with.
"Who considers what it means to go for days and weeks without a proper bath? The skin gets so stiff that it allows only the clumsiest movements, even when one tries to be delicate; under such a crust the living soul itself hardens."
Yep.