Sorry, I don't think anyone really cares.
Sometimes, on a special day, the stars align in a perfect way. A act is preformed that is truly a mark of the gods, and a triumph that the pharaohs of old would have been proud of.
Note: Artist's representation of events.
My two favourite literary sources in the world are released on the. same. fucking. day. Plus, this time they hardly had any ads in them at all. They where so thin. It was like they where throwing up everything they ate just for me.
Since they're starving to death for me, I figure that I should write a short review judging them, because trust me, all anorexic people like to be judged. You have to be believe me on this one.
Wired: Lots of interesting articles, including yet another one on Radiohead, written by David Byrne. Great, two things I don't really care about in the one article. No, I'm kidding, it looks to be wonderful, although I continue to be at a loss as to my people are claiming that In Rainbows is heralding an enormous change in the music industry.
Also some Michael Gondry in there. The kids love him right?
Verdict: You're be Weird not to love Wired.
Esquire: This issue had the best Funny Joke from a Beautiful Woman ever, because Olivia Wilde was said woman.
Secondly, the interviews: Johnny Depp sounds like nothing but a standup guy, and John McCain strikes me as the best presidential candidate. Provided he doesn’t die between now the election. Or you know, have a bout of senility and think that he’s haberdasher working for the Bolsheviks in 20th Century
It's also the 'What I've Leant' issue, and I would no kidding pull this issue out of a burning house just to keep it. Turns out Emmylou Harris is pretty smart, in addition to having a good set of pipes.
Oh, and the Chuck Klostermann article sucked like a hooker a bad dental plan. I'm not sure even he knew what he was talking about.
Verdict: All other issue of Esquire Espire to be like this one.
Eh, I guess it's slightly better than the music, which isn’t saying much.
Resignation that's someone is eventually going to hear it, in conjunction an odd spout of de-self loathing has made me want to name my sometimes referenced/ never heard CD.
So far I like the name
Of course, expect this to change when regularly scheduled hatred resumes.
Maybe you should name one ‘Terry Schaivo’, because your songs need to be put the fuck down.
Speaking of songwriting, after Rainy Day Music being drilled into my head over the past few weeks I have a new fixation: Writing songs about imaginary sad women. I'm not sure why, but there's something about songs like Save It For a Rainy Day and The Eyes of Sarah Jane have a wonderfully endearing quality to them.
Plus, they're wonderfully relaxing to write, and because they're imaginary (and of my own creation) so there's no need to worry about 'legal' troubles from uptight women who think that evening dumpster diving isn't a valid pastime…
Bitches.
Speaking of Bitches, what's up with teenage girls swearing that they're 'like, almost an alcoholic'.
Bitch, drinking three cruisers at a party and blowing some douche bag doesn't make you a alcoholic. Eric Clapton was an alcoholic; you're just a fucking idiot who likes putting bad tasting fluids into their body (get it. eh? EH?! ).
Wow, I'm really with the vitriol tonight huh?
Must. Resist. Joke. About. Kirsten Dunst, rehab, blood and oddly shaped teeth.
And in keeping with the respect towards the fairer sex tip:
I’m not much a method actor. This is mainly because I don’t act. However, after learning the solo to Skynyrd’s ‘I Ain’t the One’ and drinking a reasonable amount of whiskey I feel the need to make a woman feel my pain.
Also, attach wheels to my house. Gotta love the wheels on the house business.
People are always giving shit to rednecks, but when the shit hits, they can just haul ass and still have their home in close vicinity.
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