BUT SAUCE! IT IS THE PASTA AND JULIET IS THE CREEM!

ALL. THE TIME. I AM TO LIKE PASTA.
WITH THE TOMATO SAUCE MUSHROOM.
WITH THE CREEMS SO IT IS TO GO A LOVELY CORAL PINK COLOUR FOR EATS.
AND IT FOR HAVE MUSHROOMS.
IT CAN NOT BE BEEF. THIS SAUCE. DRY IS CHICKENS.
AND THE PRAWNS IS TOO HARD TO MAKE ON FORK.

I LIKE. I EATS THE. SAUCE. WITH TOMATO. AND CREEMIES. IS FABULOUS IT.
FOR ALL TIME.
PRAISE THE TOMATO CREEMS.
IT IS FOR THE IS REASON FOR JESUS. THIS Sauce.

Can I Have Hair Like This?

Do you ever get those feelings like when nothing ever touches you anymore??
And you cant find anything you like?
Like you dont have time to sit and find new things your are passionate about.
And you havent even listened to you iPod recently?

It seems like this has happened to me Post ***
I shall not speak the word here on this blog.

I often feel jealous of people who have such passion and inspiration all the time.
people who can think of something fun and original to say, right off the bat.
and they are remembered by everyone, and people take an instant liking to them.
and their weirdness is appropriate even to old people or prude family members.

jack the lad.
but not. not really at all, because i dont think that fully explains it.
that term has its limits.
even if it was the eccentric version.
anyways.
i was going to ramble on, but now dads putting on inception, which i have not seen and cannot miss it.



***


watched inception.
bit of a mindfucker.
leonardo dicaprio is good.


what is the mood i am in?
i have been like this before, but not for ages.

its mostly made up of boredness, fedupness, almost aggravated.
also that feeling when you really motherfucking hate someone and you only half know why.
like, you want to yell "OMG YOU SHIT ME SO BAD!" but you cant. because theyre youre cousin.
and youre supposed to love them, but you've spent your whole life avoiding such scum of the earth, and you dont really know how to handle or tolerate such a person, because it is so rare an occassion that you HAVE to put up with them.
you cant even make a snide comment. because it would be out of line...


i am supposed to be writing nteresting things.
but i cant. '
because for the past week or more, i have had this sickness where i cant do anything well, or make things like art, conversation, my own life, as interesting as it should be.

like, i want to draw a picture.
but i cant think of what to draw.
but im in that mood where i want to do something meaningful.
but i cant put any meaning into it.
like.... emptiness.
but that sounds like depression.
and its not.
because i have no reason to be.
i feel like i just go through the days. doing. not feeling.
just sort of getting along.
and that sucks.
because even while i was at school i had plenty of things to do, but still found time to make my life interesting.
there was rarely a time where i did not have a satisfying conversation, or nothing to draw, or something to really laugh at, to really love.

the feeling of not having any meaning in what i do right now.
its fustrating.
i dont know what i want.
but really, when have i ever known what i want?
i need to get better and become my self again.
because by the 6th of January i have to make a big descision, and decide what i want to do in university.
which is a big deal. so i have to be able to find passion in something.
but i am not inspired to be passionate.
there is no passion. for anything, in any respect, in my life right now.
im just following some schedule.
which, mind you, is not much of a schedule at all.
i sleep until twelve, and when i have to wake up earlier than that, i feel pissy all day.
im always tired.
but i will stay awake till 2am most nights without realising.
not even doing anything of substance.
just not wanting to sleep.
which is ridiculous, because i am always tired.

like i am always hungry, but often i find myself getting full or *gasp* sick of the food infront of me.


it is so strange.

i dont know what you call all this.
but its not my life.
i need my life back.


this is a large rant.
rantrrantrantrantrantrrantrantrantranrantnanrtnannrnnennararratv ntantantbdiy w rfdrant

rant.
why am i talking?
what is the point of my exsistence if i am not having fun? if i cannot feel?

i want to be creative or SOMETHING but its all just ... grey mush.

CHERI

i watched a whole lad of this puncey puncey fucking movie called cheri

coz i heard Anita Pallenberg was in it.
and coz im an insmoniac with bountiful downloads atm.

it was kinda interesting but overall, a shitty predictable love story and bout old courtesan who looked like a ginger botox fish and this kid with drugo eyes who thought he was king shit, a son of another courtesan, and he fell in love with the ginger botox fish courtesan, who was a friend of his mothers since he was born, and la la la,
within the first 20mins of the movie they are deeply in love, fucking.
weird graceful fucking too.

and then the KingShit Cheri's mum hooks him up with some chick and he has to leave fishface and get married. he doesnt like his young wife, and bumfucks her.

so he and fishface are all lovesick and shit, and so she tries to have younger affairs, and he checks out some old courtesans, but none are like ol fishafce, and eventually fishface realises she is a disgusting cougar.
CheriKingshit is still in love with what he remembers fishface as.

so they eventually reunite and are going to keep up the affair behind youngwifes back.
but then cheri realises shes an old naggy hag, and they cant be together.

he is still in love with her memory.

and so they part, hes still bumfucking his wife, and then he goes to war, survives,
comes back, realises the only woman he could ever love, is now an old bitchy hag, and they cant be together regardless, so he puts a bullet in his head.

ta da.

but yeah, anita was in it, and shes some old courtesan woman he meets when he's married and running away from his wife, mourning fishface.
they chat in a restaurant with another ol courtesan friend of his mothers, and then they go back to some apartment, where its like a classy 19thC drughouse and shes all serving cocaine and shit haha.
and cheri was like "mmm id tap that, you remind me a bit of fishface, you have pearls like her" and then hes all like, "ooh nice pearls" haha, but anitas like "oh, theyre fake" and then he storms off realising noone is like ol fishface, and even anita pallenberg isnt good enough for him apparently.
fucktard.

anyways, yeah, anita looked a bit scary...



the guy wasnt even hot. he was wayyyy to puncey, and a cockhead rich motherfucker.
and fishface looks like angelina jolie in fishform in sharktale.
i love sharktale.

heres another persons opinion on it:
"“Cheri’’ is based on a pair of novels by the French writer Colette, the first of which caused a scandal by turning the cliches of romantic fiction upside down. For one thing, Cheri is a man, a young and dissolute Parisian played with Pre-Raphaelite fragility by Rupert Friend. For another, his lover, Lea de Lonval (Pfeiffer), is several decades older than he. For a third, she’s a courtesan, recently retired. “Women who do what we do, no one else would understand,’’ Lea says. Well, yes, but we live vicariously through fiction. Colette knew that and so do movie producers.

Separated, Lea and Cheri maintain respective stiff yet wobbly upper lips. “Cheri’’ is a less tart story onscreen than on the page, and its keynote is pining. Pfeiffer and Friend each wilt in interesting ways, she with ladylike stoicism, he with brooding petulance, and Friend is a good enough actor to play to the thwarted little boy under the dashing young man.

All well and good, and nothing you haven’t seen in other movies where the characters tend to get upstaged by the drapery. What makes “Cheri’’ worth your while is that its true subjects are women and age, and its observations apply to both 19th-century France and the modern film industry. Like her character, Pfeiffer is a celebrated beauty on the far side of the curve, doomed by a Hollywood that, to quote “The First Wives Club,’’ thinks the three ages of women are babe, district attorney, and Miss Daisy.

The actress knows this. The proof’s in her performance, a surprisingly layered work of confidence, panic, acceptance, and vanity (both Pfeiffer’s and her character’s). Lea keeps looking at her hands as if expecting her skin to betray her; at times, Frears and his cinematographer Darius Khondji cruelly turn up the lights to accentuate the pallor and sag of Pfeiffer’s face. There’s an awareness, too, of the ways civilized society turns beauty into a commodity. “What am I worth to you?’’ Lea scornfully asks Cheri, and the question ripples right out past the screen.

The movie introduces a few old harlots who are grotesque parodies of Lea, the couple’s worst fears made flesh. None is as arresting as Anita Pallenberg, the bad-girl beauty of the British ’60s pop scene and now a withered beldame who resembles nothing so much as her onetime lover Keith Richards in drag. Cheri asks about her pearls. “They’re fake,’’ she gleefully croaks.

If the movie were better - less swoony, more relentless - it might be unbearable to watch. As it is, “Cheri’’ touches on the insecure egotism of courtesans and movie stars with a knowing firmness. Yes, Pfeiffer’s still one of the most beautiful women in the business, but what does that get you in a business addicted to youth? In the movie’s most harrowing image, she stares through the mirror of the camera lens into the audience itself. Does she want us to reflect back what she once was or what she will be? I’m not sure even Pfeiffer knows."
http://www.iorr.org/talk/read.php?1,1090874

ANGEEEEERRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRR

press play first.

rage rage rage re=age rage rage rage rage rageragereaheagdwfwufwufcuygcfi3gofgug298g398g2o4eufhcgoade8yf0w84yf2pi4fhq2iwh2z97r^T@%#&@^#*&@T#(*@)(*#_(@QUJP (N@_!!!!!


RAGE!
I AM IN A RAGE!


fuck yyou you sad little twerp get the fuck off my newsfeed!

I ALWAYS HAVE TO KEEP MY POLITE MOUTH SHUT BUT NOW I AM RAGING!
RAGE RAGE RAGE ANGER!
ANGER!

BIG ANGER!


YOU! make me so fucking angry because:

-YOU ARE SO NARROW MINDED AND FIXED ON AN ERA THATS NOT EVEN YOURS!
-THE 80S WAS A TIME FOR FUCKTARDS TO RELISH IN THE BAD BAD FASHIONS!
-I HATE 80S SNARE DRUMS WITH AN INSANE INSANE PASSION!
-I HATE HOW THE 80S TACKIFIED THE 70S!
-I HATE YOUR FACE! I HATE YOUR STUPID DISPLAY PICTURE!
-YOUR BOX MAKES ME WANT TO SLOWLY GRATE OFF YOUR FINGERS AND CHEEKS!

-YOURE TACKY AND I HATE YOU!
- I CANT EVEN YELL AT YOU WITHOUT CRINGING BECAUSE YOUR NAME EPITOMISES YOUR FUCKTARDINESS!
- YOU;RE ON MY STATUS YOU SEXIST-MACHOMAN-ARNOLD-SCHWARZENEGGER-SYLVESTER-STALLONE LOVING-STUPID-ACTION-MAN-MOVIE-WATCHING-BONJOVIQUOTING-SADASSMUTHAFUCKA-LAMESTUPIDFATSTUPID-80SFUCKER!!!!



GO AND DIE IN A HOLE WHICH YOU WERE PUSHED IN BY YOUR MAN CRUSH BON JOVI! HAVE A FUCKING NICE DAY NOW YOU FAT LOSER WITH BODY ODOUR!
YOU BIG FAT STINKY LEB! YOU ARE A STEREOTYPICAL FUCK! I SAW ON MY CLOGGED UP NEWSFEED THAT YOU HAVE TO SHOWER TWICE A DAY YOU STINKY FUCK! NOW THATS NOT GLAM AT ALL!! FUCK YOU WITH YOUR CHUCKNORRIS SHIT AND YOUR FUCKING WRITING OF GAY ACTION NOVELS IN WHICH THE MAIN CHARACTERS PERPETUALLY BUM EACH OTHER RAW AFTER DRINKING SHITTY MONSTER ENERGY DRINK AND SOLO AND MOTHER JUST BECAUSE IT IS AIMED TO STUPID MALE STEREOTYPES LIKE YOU! I BET IF BONJOVI WORE A TUTU YOU WOULD TOO YOU STUPID MOTHERFUCKER!
I AM FILLED WITH SUCH HATRED RIGHT NOW AND YOU HAVENT EVEN DONE ANYTHING MUCH! BUT I WILL NOT APOLOGISE TO SORRY LOSERS LIKE YOU! FUCK YOUR STUPID ACTION NOVELS! I WOULD GO APESHIT ON YO ASS ANY TIME OF THE DAY I HATE YOU I HATE YOU I HATE YOU YOU EPITOMISE ALMOST EVERYTHING I HATE ABOUT THIS STUPID MOTHERFUCKING WORLD!
YOU KNOW HOW MANY STUPID FUCKS LIKE THE 80S? WHYYYY MOTHERFUCKERS WHYYYYYYY??????

but you're not supposed to be an egotistical bitch...

I take comfort in the fact that i can be like this after exams:

oops wrong one. why is that in my cut and paste?

this one


yeaaahhh.

you know what? im leaving that beatles one. hell, we can do that too!


MELONS! MELONS!
strawberries AND blueberries!

later i will cut and paste my face over the top of that fat guy's.
hahahah sad.


ahhhhh im going to die tomoroow.
this was foreshadowed by the fact that when i sat down on this chair, my flard thighs hurt so much that i plonked down at a weird angle and hurt my ass.
im going to sleep now.

Relapse.

im doing it again.
i just cant stop looking at kings of leon.
if the damn fansite wasnt so THRIVING & ACCESSIBLE i dont think i would have such a problem.

Keef ..

men in red pants = babes.


even working the beige cords. (oh jesus. -.-)


jimmy and keef have friends in common.


mushroom pants and awesome necklace.


native american styles.


despite the short hair, this is one of my fav pics of him.


:)


what a cool crowd lol. i want that jacket. in red and black. like Meg in Blue Orchid.


"hi, im a babe."


Second Favourite Photo. from same shoot. oh.


Awesome Rings On Men :)


"Hi, I have a FANTASTIC mane."


"Pants are not a necessity. Swords however..."


Keef et Marlon.


Just LOL. Not fitting in with the WhitePressedPantsClub.


"OK, so i forgot im British and pasty."

...now he's an old fart... yet can still manage that retarded kick move?


HAHAHAHAHAHA. my personal favourite.
i think this article is bout micks retarded wardrobe.
Parasol? check. Velvet Cape? check. Gay Hand Gesture? check.

KOL PICSPAM

sexy hair



sexy nathan



LOL fringe, but still somehow sexy...



best.....



trying to look classy, in skinniest skinnies alive. end up just looking SO FUCKING HOT! GAH!
ps: caleb has alison mosshart boots. hes not wearing them here, but i have seen them. what a man.



this is the girlfriend. with the ring on. the ring that technically makes her fiance. DAMN YOU LUCKIEST WOMAN ALIVE!! (tell him to grow his hair!) but i dont hate her, coz she has fucking awesome hair.
for example...



dont despair kids. here are some funny/hot interviews.

Into The Wild

everyone should watch this movie.









btw, neither of those vids are from the movie, theyre gay fanvids and shet.
but the music. i wish you could see what happens in the movie.
fucking breathtaking movie.

You Know What?

MAYBE IM THE FUCKING FAKE!
MAYBE IM THE ONLY POSER!
MAYBE IM THE ONLY ONE WHO CARES ABOUT SHIT!
IM NOT SUPPOSED TO CARE ABOUT KEEPING UP APPEARANCES!
THATS RIDICULOUS!
THATS STILL CONFORMING! STILL FOLLOWING STUPID LITTLE RULES?
THATS JUST CONFORMING TO A LITTLE STYLE OF BEHAVIOUR ALL THE FUCKING TIME!
CONFORMING!
HAVE I SUBCONSIOUSLY TRAPPED MYSELF!
MAYBE I NEED TO BE LOOSENING UP AND FORGETTING ALL POLITICS!
FUCK IT!!
FUCK ALL THIS!

FROM NOW ON IM DOING WHAT EVER THE FUCK I FEEL LIKE AT THE TIME!
I AM GOING WITH EVERY FLOW!
THATS RIGHT!
HAVE FUN AT ALL COSTS!


SUMMER IS BACK!
LIFE!
FREEEEEEFUCKINGDOM!


spring cleaning your room while Volta-ing and Inscenceing brings out epiphanies.

ehehehe

Its impossible not to become a parody of what you once thought you were :)

OOOOUUUUUTTTTRRRAAAGGGEEEE!!!!

fuck you fake british tabloids and fuck you spanish tony! you slag!

FUCK!
THIS IS AN OUTRAGE!
teach me to read shitty british tabloids.
i swear, the daily mail is so full of shit


FUCKING SPANISH TONY! NO ONE LOVES HIM! THIS IS BULLLLSSSSHHHHIIIIT!
i am so ridiculously mad right now

http://www.dailymail.co.uk/tvshowbiz/article-1320638/Keith-Richards-gofer-recalls-Mick-Jaggers-affair-Anita-Pallenberg.html?ito=feeds-newsxml


|[ so, you just have to go read it. and also photos.
ah they are good at choosing photos, i shall give them that.
eg: shot of keith and anita, keiths totes like "ah look at me, i the man, with my woman. yeah"
shot of mick and anita. i have seen this so many times, and it just makes me lol every time. look at micks face. im not sure if anita knew juuuussst how confirming-all-keith's-worries that photo looks. LOOK AT HIS FACE LMFAOOOOOO AHHAHAHAHHAHAH "yes thats right i stole your woman. also, i am stoned" THATS WHAT THAT SAYS! ]|

SOOOOOOOO MAAADDDDDDDDD!!!!!

ok,
first outrage!

[anita]
"That she still harboured a deep desire for Mick was apparent in July 1969, when Brian Jones drowned in his pool after taking a late-night swim under the influence of drink and drugs.
The early news bulletins did not say which Stone had died and I became convinced it was Mick, but Anita quickly put me right when I rang Keith's house to find out what had happened.

'No, thank Christ, it was only Brian,' she said, and I heard the callousness in her voice."


WTF SUCH BULLSHIT! RRAAAAAAGGGGGEEEEE!!!!

1) this does not explain how she still had a "deep desire for mick"
2) AS IF SHE WOULD SAY "thank christ it was only brian!!"
AS IF! NO ONE WOULD SAY THAT!
3) also, shes not even christian,so why would her first thought be to "thank christ"??!?!?!?!


FOR FUCKS SAKE!!!!

"I got a message saying he didn't want it published and asking me to meet him in his hotel room in New York, where we were both staying.
After we had chatted about old times, he slipped his hand under a cushion, pulled out a small gun and pointed it at my head. My stomach churned as I gently pushed it away.

'Don't muck about Keith,' I said. 'I'm not mucking about,' he snapped. Then he chuckled and invited me to share a bottle of whisky with him."

i think i;d like to believe this though, because I WANT TO SHOOT SPANISH TONY TOO

WHAT A KNOB! LOOOLLLL

also, LOL in your dreams "He didn't make love to Marianne for weeks at a time and she soon looked elsewhere for comfort.

We had enjoyed a brief fling in those early days at Robert Fraser's and became lovers again. But she did not restrict herself to me."

HHAHAHAHAAH SPANISH TONY! NO ONE LOVES YOU! asssssss iffff you could sex marriane faithful. ewww. even if she did, she only did it for the drugs! thats how much i hate you spanish tony you stupid fuck, because i dont even like marianne faithful, i cant even spell her name, but id rather stick up for her than YOU!

He has old lady hair.

LOOKATHIM!
https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEik2xq4Qxyjl2kXCSe4Z_7aoeN-eBlx-nizDd541QCo039Vuf7N1l15wrFISHkg4f0JZhc9-Y9KvNe50KJrk1gwgBLsONVSCHD-n7PxHTKhlr2PoQkkJalb3guRLH2SJogNXRDsKmgxiW8/s1600-h/joe+monk+tony+anita+keith.jpg
he is the second from left.... ok so this picture proves nothing. but ive seen him in Circus OK!



also, this is very nice.
http://dietcokeandsympathy.blogspot.com/2009/07/up-and-down-with-rolling-stones.html
YAY MORE ANITA PHOTOS!!! (thankyou spanish tony?... :/ )


yeah imma go to bed now, my eyes feel funny. its like theyre saying "man, i love you, but if you keep this shit up we're going to fall asleep in an exam. so stop trying to soothe me with pictures of young keith richards. i mean it. before i go brian jones on YO ASS "
lol. my eyes are funny. AHHAAH am i getting beaten up or, am i just going to get the worst eyebags known to man.
this could go either way.
goodnight.

PS: armageddon is the worst movie of all time. it is shit. 4evskies.
PPS: this is also nice. http://www.ranker.com/list/18-reasons-why-_exile-on-main-street_-deserves-its-rep/clark-benson

TED ♥ SYLVIA

MAN!

i just thought of a really crazy idea.
you know how everyone thinks Ted Hughes is a psycho bitch who is responsible for Plath's death and his other wife's death straight after?

WELL
did you watch that crazy shit on ACA (i know i know, sorry)
about the two swedish twins who, ONLY when they were together, went through psychotic episodes and like, threw themselves into traffic at exactly the same time and got up from under buses and ran away, and like, hit some random nice man in the head with a hammer then jumped off a bridge (AND SURVIVED AGAIN!) ? there was no mention of drugs either.

well the doctors reckoned that they had this thing where ONE of them was psychotic, and when they were together they CAUGHT the craziness off of each other? and when they were seperated they were fine? usually one was worse than the other. but when they were together they had psychotic episodes neither of them could remember and got like superman strength?

well.
what if plath had that disease, and she gave it to hughes, and he wasnt as affected by it, and then when he was with his new wife she got like plath used to be?

WOOOOAAAAHHH! crazy shit.

"Psychiatrists told Luton Crown Court that the mother-of-two was suffering from either induced delusional disorder or acute polymorphic disorder, which were both rare. "

http://www.thesun.co.uk/sol/homepage/news/article1739401.ece
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Ursula_and_Sabina_Eriksson
http://news.bbc.co.uk/2/hi/uk_news/england/staffordshire/8379786.stm
http://bjp.rcpsych.org/cgi/content/full/185/6/452#SEC1

its amazing the things you can connect up!

http://earthhouseholder.blogspot.com/2006/05/kurt-cobain.html

Monday, May 15, 2006
Kurt Cobain

I thought this was kind of interesting (from the poetry foundation site).

Desire to Burn
by Tim Appelo

Kurt Cobain was a tenth-grade dropout who bitterly regretted his truncated education. Yet he was a scholar in his weird way, and not just of obscure B-sides. As he noted in his journals, “When I read, I read well.” Cobain’s poetic mentor was Courtney Love, the fitfully bookish granddaughter of novelist Paula Fox (ranked higher than Bellow, Roth, and Updike by Jonathan Franzen).

Love thrust improving books on him, and some he took to heart. He wrote out lines by the 1920s poet Elinor Wylie in his journals.

He was attracted by Wylie’s doomy voice, scandalous life, and young death by stroke the day after she finished her last book. He would have loved a Wylie line like “My flesh was but a fresh-embroidered shroud,” and these quatrains, about a hero who fled humanity to live in a cave:

If you would keep your soul
From spotted sight or sound,
Live like the velvet mole;
Go burrow underground.
And there hold intercourse
With roots of trees and stones,
With rivers at their source,
And disembodied bones.

But Cobain didn’t read with an open mind. He sought what resonated with his fiercely puritanical disenchantment, and with his plan to get rich and famous “and kill myself like Jimi Hendrix,” which he announced to at least seven friends in junior high school.

We can study his poetical imagination at work by reading the only poem in his published journals, “A Young Woman, a Tree,” by award-winning poet Alicia Ostriker. Cobain’s response to Ostriker’s poem demonstrates that he died by a willful act of misreading.

On page 204 of his journals, he incorporated “A Young Woman, a Tree” into a drawing. It was a page so painfully revealing that reviewers were forbidden to reprint it, presumably on Love’s orders. Cobain took a comic-book version of his life story, tore out the cartoon portrait of his head heroically shrieking his number-one lyric “Here we are now, entertain us,” and drew onto it a rather good expressionist sketch of his emaciated body. The drawing is meant to contrast the muscular comic-book superhero head—the public myth—with the shabby private reality of what he called his “Auschwitz” body, which shamed him.

Above the drawing, he clipped six lines from Ostriker. The girl in the poem envies a tree, whose explosion of fall color makes her own life feel pallid:

Passing that fiery tree—if only she could
Be making love,
Be making poetry,
Be exploding, be speeding through the universe
Like a photon, like a shower
Of yellow blazes—

Cobain places these lines above his self-portrait, which seems to represent a painful absence of creative energy. Ostriker tells me that this is her subject, too. “The poem is from the point of view of a girl who wants to live more intensely than she is doing.” But Cobain stops there, missing the ultimate point of the poem, which is one of endurance. The poem continues:

She believes if she could only overtake
The riding rhythm of things,
Of her own electrons,
Then she would be at rest
If she could forget school,
Climb the tree,
Be the tree,
Burn like that.

So far, Ostriker sounds the same yearning note that Cobain does elsewhere in the journals: “I used to have so much energy and the need to search for miles and weeks for anything new and different. Excitement. I was once a magnet for attracting new offbeat personalities who would introduce me to music and books of the obscure and I would soak it into my system like a rabid sex crazed junkie hyperactive mentally retarded toddler who’s just had her first taste of sugar.” If he didn’t get his idea fix, he got suicidal. When he sought refuge from despair in the creative process, it was a process very like suicidal sehnsucht.

But as the poem continues, the girl lives to learn the true lesson of creativity:

She doesn’t know yet, how could she
That this same need
Is going to erupt every September
And that in 40 years the idea will strike her
From no apparent source,
In a Laundromat
Between a washer and a dryer,
Like one of those electric light bulbs
Lighting up near a character’s head in a comic strip—
There in that naked and soiled place
With its detergent machines,
Its speckled fluorescent lights,
Its lint piles broomed into corners as she fumbles for quarters
And dimes, she will start to chuckle and double over
Into the plastic baskets’
Mountain of wet
Bedsheets and bulky overalls—
Old lady! She’ll grin,
beguiled at herself,

Old lady! The desire to burn is already a burning! How about that!

Maybe Cobain would never have been able to read the redemptive message of the poem. His imagination was all about the moment of explosiveness, not the wisdom of reflection. He felt he had exhausted all creative possibilities: if you think his posthumously released tune “You Know You’re Right” sounds like the same old formula, he felt the same way. In his journals, he sarcastically envisions Nirvana as a washed-up oldies act.

But his biochemistry made him believe from the start that all hope was exhausted before he was born. He writes in his early journals that it’s all been done, there’s no point in music, and yet “it’s still fun to pretend” that his generation could find a living music of its own. As the forbidden page shows, he no longer had the spirit to keep up the pretense. He could not see that his restless questing, his gnawing hunger to create, and his ability to pour that frustration into art was in itself potentially his deepest gift.

“What I wonder is where Cobain would have gotten to if he’d survived,” wrote Ostriker in a recent e-mail. “We are so drawn to the ones who burn out early—some sort of compelling romanticism about death fascinates us—the Cobain cult seems to me very much like the cult of Sylvia Plath as a poet. Passion and power as artists, tangled in poisonous self-contempt, contempt for the world, two sides of the same coin. Here are some lines of Plath’s, from the poem ‘Lady Lazarus’:

Dying
Is an art, like everything else.
I do it exceptionally well.
I do it so it feels like hell.
I do it so it feels real.
I guess you could say I’ve a call.

“If there’s an afterlife,” writes Ostriker, “I can picture Plath and Cobain prowling through it together.”

Posted by Chet Gresham at 3:10 PM

leading the way for other people to attempt to follow.
just too cool



marianne looks like a big retard in this. because she is.







also, this is cool


apparently taken at a concert for brian jones. which means hyde park. but idkk...

have you ever thought

have you ever thought about the possibility that people only do things because the realise it is an option?

for example, suicide.
how did people figure out that dying seemed like a good idea?
imagine the amount of people that could have been saved because they didnt know the idea exsisted?
what if they never knew that could be a way to "escape"?
would that save them?

like, some stuff is unfortunately taught to you.

like, my baby cousin, never has nightmares, and was never scared of stuff, until she watched some episode of a kids show about monsters and nightmares, and being scared about things, and trying not to be scared.
that night she declared to her mother that something was "SCARY""i cant sleep, its scary" or something. i can so imagine the voice she said it in too haha :)
but yeah, how stupid is that? she wasnt REALLY scared! but its just assumed that ALL kids her age are scared of things. people try to solve issues that havent started yet.
what if those issues never started if they were never mentioned in the first place?

if you believe in something enough it becomes true. just think how many teenagers become depressed from listening to music and stuff about being depressed and self harm and not wanting to live, then they start thinking of that stuff as an option, and then the next time they get upset, its the first thing they think of. then they cant get it off their mind. then it becomes what they really feel. because they cant remember what they did before they were corrupted by the media.
maybe depression and methods of dealing with it come around at coincidental times.
like when you start feeling that way is when you are exposed to that stuff.
i dont know.
im just thinking about all this shit because im studying ted hughes, and sylvia plath, and kurt cobain at the moment. it makes me sad that they had to be so sad.

"Plath did have an obsession with death, though not to the extent of, say, Anne Sexton, who seemed obsessed with suicide, namely hers- but Sexton, a friend of Plath's, did once recall the endless conversations the two had about their experience with suicide, saying they were drawn 'like moths to an electric light bulb'."
i mean, if they recognised their obsession, and were able to speak to others about it, then WHY?
more people than ever seem to be using self harm, getting diagnosed with depression, and attempting and commiting suicide.

see, if we were not taught that stuff, it would be better.
but if we were not being taught that stuff, we would not be in todays society.
without society's constraints, i doubt there would be much reason for suicide.

maybe that stuff is inevitable in some people because they DO have a chemical imbalance, which lies dormant, and becomes pronounced in puberty.
i dont know. im just thinking out loud (?)

we shouldnt be taught so much stuff.
how are we supposed to know what we really feel?
i think we should all have to grow up and discover things by ourselves.
im sick of being so protected, and issues being pre-assumed.

look at the centre for like a minute, then look around at stuff.

TRIPPPAAAAYYYYYYYY!!!!!!!

idk

man, have you ever thought, why the brain takes so long to come to conclusions on how you feel about things? or why it has to be complicated?
i mean its just chemicals right?
happiness is just a chemical?

i like to think theres more to that, and scientists just dont know how to explain it yet.

like, why is love and feeling so complicated?
like, i just listened to the acoustic version of "love" by john lennon, on my friends blog.
and he makes it so simple. almost like it is just a chemical you can just dose yourself with. but yet obviously it is more than that to him.


i havent decided whether or not this post is depressing or not.

YOU FAIL!

AND I HATE YOU!



http://alonelydreamer.tumblr.com/search/mick+jagger

mick jagger indeed.
what a twat.

ashen lady...

When Jim Morrison says this,
does he mean a pale lady,
or a smoky black lady?

not that it matters, it just annoys me when i cant picture images in songs...
ah i fail.

Roadhouse Blues

Yeah
Keep your eyes on the road, your hands upon the wheel X2
Yeah, we're goin' to the Roadhouse
We're gonna have a real
Good time
Yeah, back at the Roadhouse they got some bungalows
Yeah, back at the Roadhouse they got some bungalows
And that's for the people
Who like to go down slow
Let it roll, baby, roll X3
Let it roll, all night long
Do it, honey, do it
You gotta roll, roll, roll
You gotta thrill my soul, all right
Roll, roll, roll, roll
Thrill my soul
You gotta beep a gunk a chucha
Honk konk konk
You gotta each you puna
Each ya bop a luba
Each yall bump a kechonk
Ease sum konk
Ya, ride
Ashen lady, Ashen lady
Give up your vows, give up your vows
Save our city, save our city
Right now
Well, I woke up this morning, I got myself a beer
Well, I woke up this morning, and I got myself a beer
The future's uncertain, and the end is always near
Let it roll, baby, roll
Let it roll, all night long

this is ... one of my favourite Doors songs.
used to be THE favourite, but then my library was enhanced :)

The Coolest Woman Alive.

Anita Pallenberg is so fucking cool.
Honestly, i wish i knew her and had more evidence of this coolness besides photos and interviews.
But she is the coolest girlfriend Keith (or Brian) ever had.
And she dresses awesomely.
& she plays awesome people in movies.
And she knows Black Magic.
And she had kids and is STILL a madbitch.
Brian used to beat her, and once, he gave her a black eye, before he passed out drunk. So she socked him one too, and they went out with matching black eyes :)
And her and Keith seperated because HIS lawyers said SHE was a bad influence. whatamadbitch!!
And she can speak all sorts of languages, and she has been everywhere, man.
And she influenced all the coolest parts of Keith. (hair, eyeliner, weird accessories.)
She came up with the "woo woo woo woo" bg vocals in Sympathy For The Devil.
Once, when Brian was a bitch to her, she made a voodoo doll and pinned it in the stomach. Brian was having terrible pains for a week.

Crazy German Woman.
She's so awesome

her and Brian could be brother and sister though...


Check out the jealousy and tension in this shot, while she just sits there, babe-ing... BAHAHHAHAHA


"I shoot you!" shes so hardcore.


ok, this is a weird shot, its from Performance & i really love what shes wearing. who else could just wear that??



mushroom. just eat it you square!


this photo is so fat, because Mick Jagger's in it. get out.


nomnomnomnom


look at her! she's about to say something fantastic in german! wunderbar! ahhh...


i am so jealous. look at her, just chillin with Keefy! and those boots...