I am a world's forgotten boy
I am the one
Who searches and destroys
Know what else I am?
A street-walkin' cheetah with a heart full of napalm.
Best. Rock. Lyric. Ever. Iggy Pop.
Seriously, if any of you readers out there (both of you) can come up with a better song-opening lyric that better embodies the rock and roll spirit, submit it in the comments or the email, and I will send you a special present.
And maybe, if you have slippery morals and minimal body hair, we can make sexytime.
Niiiiiice.
I watched The Departed again the other night, as part of my movie-frenzied, snowmelt depression. It is such a damn good movie. I also realized that Nas' "Hip Hop Is Dead," which I recommended a few posts back, is part of the soundtrack. That song and the Dropkick Murphys, "Shipping Up To Boston," are the two best songs I have heard in the last four months.
Along with Modest Mouse's "3rd Planet." Modest Mouse is playing in Bozeman on Saturday. Yay, dude. General Admission. Dude will be there.
(I am a fairly verbose individual, with a firm grasp of the English language if slightly sweatier, slippery grasp on grammar and punctuation- witness haphazard usage of italics, quotes, ((parenthesis)), this parenthetical separated by dashes, etc.- yet I cannot break the habit of short sentences and short paragraphs.
The thing is, I have read a lot of books. My favorite author is Bukowski.
He wrote short sentences.
He never rarely used adverbs.
Because adverbs are for pussies.
There is something to be said for getting straight to the point. I'm not sure what, but I am sure it is something. You know, to be said.
Everything that keeps me together is falling apart
I've got this this thing that I consider my only art
Of fucking people over.
- Modest Mouse, Third Planet, worth 99 cents.
It has been a fairly intense week for me. A lot has happened. Things I don't care to share.
When all is said and done, I'd like to look back and say I did the most with what I had. That I had the most fun I could. Squeezed the last drop.
See you around.
P.S. Seriously, submit a lyric, win a prize.
P.P.S.
A street-walkin' cheetah with a heart full of napalm.
Best. Rock. Lyric. Ever. Iggy Pop.
Seriously, if any of you readers out there (both of you) can come up with a better song-opening lyric that better embodies the rock and roll spirit, submit it in the comments or the email, and I will send you a special present.
And maybe, if you have slippery morals and minimal body hair, we can make sexytime.
Niiiiiice.
I watched The Departed again the other night, as part of my movie-frenzied, snowmelt depression. It is such a damn good movie. I also realized that Nas' "Hip Hop Is Dead," which I recommended a few posts back, is part of the soundtrack. That song and the Dropkick Murphys, "Shipping Up To Boston," are the two best songs I have heard in the last four months.
Along with Modest Mouse's "3rd Planet." Modest Mouse is playing in Bozeman on Saturday. Yay, dude. General Admission. Dude will be there.
(I am a fairly verbose individual, with a firm grasp of the English language if slightly sweatier, slippery grasp on grammar and punctuation- witness haphazard usage of italics, quotes, ((parenthesis)), this parenthetical separated by dashes, etc.- yet I cannot break the habit of short sentences and short paragraphs.
The thing is, I have read a lot of books. My favorite author is Bukowski.
He wrote short sentences.
He never rarely used adverbs.
Because adverbs are for pussies.
There is something to be said for getting straight to the point. I'm not sure what, but I am sure it is something. You know, to be said.
Everything that keeps me together is falling apart
I've got this this thing that I consider my only art
Of fucking people over.
- Modest Mouse, Third Planet, worth 99 cents.
It has been a fairly intense week for me. A lot has happened. Things I don't care to share.
When all is said and done, I'd like to look back and say I did the most with what I had. That I had the most fun I could. Squeezed the last drop.
See you around.
P.S. Seriously, submit a lyric, win a prize.
P.P.S.
Labels: bukowski, caring, lines, or not, sharing, stop signs
posted by Joe at
10:53 PM
11 Comments
