I'm interested in people who have 'pimped out' their myspace pages. My question is, does it instantly make you feel like a total fag inside or does it come later when in a fit of depression you slowly realize the facade you've spent so much time cultivating for this drab online community simultaneously represents, embodies and causes the emptiness within that you now realize has been there all along?
Someone who's "About Me" section doesn't start off with "Let's see." Let's not. I'm looking for a quadriplegic genius to Google shit for me when I'm out. Also, if you own camera and/or lighting equipment please dismiss all the above nonsense and promptly message me with your address, (specific) instructions on where you keep your spare key, and a brief catalog of the common time one can count on you to be away from the home.
The only cd I have ever owned is a scratched and burned copy of "disc 2" of Michael Jackson's "Dangerous" album. I have always hated it, though I have grown especially tired of it since listening to it for the first time several weeks ago.
I'm tired of all the attempts to put a dent in popular culture. Dialogue written for others to quote, in a feeble attempt to inject some terrible "catch phrase" into the "collective unconscious" so one can sit back and say, "Spielberg may have made Jaws but I coined a phrase!"
As I looked on, through prismatic layers of light, dry-lipped, focusing my lust and rocking slightly under my newspaper, I felt that my perception of Lolita, if properly concentrated upon, might be sufficient to have me attain a beggar's bliss immediately; but, like some predator that prefers a moving prey to a motionless one, I planned to have this pitiful attainment coincide with one of the various girlish movements she made now and then as she read, such as trying to scratch the middle of her back and revealing a stippled armpit--but fat Haze suddenly spoiled everything by turning to me and asking me for a light, and starting a make-believe conversation about a fake book by some popular fraud.
Spiderman, for kissing me upside down.