Pop songs. And So Wherein I Suffer Through The Greatest Creative Period of My Life.
how dare they tell you life goes on?I blinked for twenty minutes though each blink did nothing to dispel his ritual morning haunting. Sitting on the edge of my bed, a ghostly Samuel Beckett (smelling strongly of potatoes and garlic) breathed a pearl: "Fecundity's lament is ever such: 'My brood would suffer from and despair of a world not large enough to contain its multitudes.'"
(in every line, in every song)
the meaning gets just strung along
(you are, in fact, somebody new)
Shut up, dude. Some of us have to work.
I'm gonna draw a line of boric acid around the bed. That'll show him.
Posted at December 31, 2002 03:04 AM