I wonder if you taught me how to do it. I learned it in metaphor at the mall from the greys. It was very helpful even though I hate doing it.
Assad is shit, Assad is shit, Assad is shit. I know and Barry is totally lined up to help. I'm just so nervous it's going to lead to dubya dubya tres.
Even now in the final hour...
I hate overthinking this stuff. Cuddle pillow sleep tiem.
A terribel virus will emerge from these factory-farm death camps. All the signs are there...bovine t.b, 'mad cow', bird-flu, swine-flu: it's always the animals who are blamed, not the humans. Nature will not spare human animals from the cull that Gaia is preparing.
Such commentVery threadSo internet.Wow.
Part of me wants to go to this, but only for about an hour and then helicoptered the fuck out of there. One of my favorite Malcolm In The Middle episodes was when they went to Burning Man and they were rebirthed, it was hilarious. Some beautiful photos, I have an old friend there whose been going for years, she's real into drugs and dancing, not my scene no way. But I'm not so square I wouldn;t enjoy it for a few hours, but stuck in the desert with a bunch of New Age Hipsters rolling on Molly and ludes? Fuck that shit.
On AYNIM they were suggesting Morrissey wear a shirt referenced in a Huff post article about Sophia Wallace's CLITERACY campaign to enlighten people about the clitoris being more than a little button but a hidden organ. THere was a graphic of the clitoris organ here:
It looks like the popular crown of Isis. I always reference the stepped crown, but this crown is more popular.
Gotta fold back those wings.
Paul and I have been telling Sue she needs to stop doing this, but she loves her Orioles. It's an honor to have them in her yard, it's like money. But what I'm doing is essentially factory farming. This is 2000 mealworms. Well...more like 1500, I may have accidentally set some free.
A promising sign is that the birds have stopped eating worms from this particular feeder. Nice little Barn flag.
My friend's Dean and Larry are moving out of a turn-of-the-century electrical shop they've called home all their life. Larry has anyway. I did a lot of work for them over the years, to see the place empty was so heartbreaking, but people die and trusts get divided and family become assholes and greedy and the best thing to do is leave the drama behind. I loved working in that space. My snapshots aren't doing it justice, I was in a hurry. The building had at least four different secret lofts that could be used as workspaces, then all the ground floor. It was pointed out that the building is not retrofitted for an earthquake, so maybe it's a blessing in disguise they're leaving. 1930s time machine.
The observation that twitter can offer old stories is a lovely parallel for BOTL. When reading the Language of the Birds (Twitter is tweets, like a bird) it is often the case that you're hearing an old story and mistake it for something current. You hear them simultaneously in metaphor so it's easy to get confused. For instance I'm hearing about the history of experience or lack of and nerves and frustration and all that, but it sounds like that stuff is happening now. YOU AREN'T ALONE but you have to catch the "that message applies to the 90s" and if you don't, it trips you out.