Just got home from the Crüe. Having spent so much time in box office pays off: third row center.
Very fucking awesome show… even better than KISS…
I had actually planned on writing about this, but I am too fucking tired and too fucking deaf. Tomorrow, then.
… and the best part is that he looks like a Ken doll.
I found out tonight that there was someone bearing my name that frolicked around New York in the 1850’s.
Fucking doppelganger.
And by that light around the dome appear’d
A mournful garden of autumnal hue,
Its lately pleasing flowers all drooping stood
Amidst high weeds that rank in plenty grew.
The Primrose there, the violet darkly blue,
Daisies and fair Narcissus ceas’d to rise,
Gay spotted pinks their charming bloom withdrew.
And Polyanthus quench’d its thousand dyes.
No pleasant fruit or blossoms gaily smil’d,
Nought but unhappy plants or trees were seen,
The yew, the myrtle, and the church-yard elm,
The cypress, with its melancholy green.
There cedars dark, the osier, and the pine,
Shorn tamarisks, and weeping willows grew,
The poplar tall, the lotos, and the lime,
And Pyracantha did her leaves renew.
The poppy there, companion to repose,
Display’d her blossoms that began to fall,
And here the purple amaranthus rose
With mint strong-scented, for the funeral.
And here and there with laurel shrubs between
A tombstone lay, inscrib’d with stains of woe,
And stanzas sad, throughout the dismal green,
Lamented for the dead that slept below.
I must create a system, or be enslav’d by another man’s. I will not reason and compare: my business is to create.
:|:|| how orwellian |:|::
