My hair took an hour to be perfectly coifed.
My perfume matches my sweat to a tee.
Eyeliner lipstick and horn-rimmed glasses.
But Oh Lord what if i have to pee?

The hipsters were abounding tonight.
Around every corner.
They come in more shapes and sizes than I would have imagined.
Did you know it's already cool to be a Pink wannabe?

Dress up is fun though.
You need your own style.
One that suits you but isn't suited for you.
Yet isn't one word screaming to be heard...moderation?

It's all good to a point.
If it hurts to walk, or breathe, or just be...
let it go.
It's not worth it.
A decent conversation is worth five pounds of mascara.

Plus if you look like everyone else
(even if it's just everyone else in your personal posse)
you don't look like you.
Don't refract your beauty..
Shine your own song.
And wear cut-off Levis.

How does Missy do it? Her music transcends just everything. I just can't comprehend the genius that allows Missy to make my white-ass stir into booty-dance while at the same time clubs of "folks" are groovin all over the country. Amazing. Real art does just that though. It transcends space and time limitations, not to mention "class". Bougie-asses in the house, get down!!!



I had my first encounter with math rock tonight. It rocked. Just try and count pi five times backward. Here's some link from a random guy about mathrock (the russian stewardess is pretty hot anywho)http://www.rundevilrun.com/mathrock.html.



I must talk about the party. Yet words sound so feeble...how to explain...

Mr. Bing Bong had a big Ding Dong
Bitches in the house playin mad Ping Pong
Talk me a minute sing me a sing-song
Call it like it is but say it real strong

Party rockin makes me sad in a good way, there's too much of goodness. Wanna talk to everybody but only get a few minutes with each. Conversations diffuse. Usually into idiotic fun. Shoot. I need to go to bed. But shit, muthafucka, I wanna say more. Succinctly then. It was a great big fun time with tons of muthafuckas I ain't seen before. And tons of muthafuckas I don't see enough. My birthday couldna been better. It was perfect...thank you all for coming and just blowing the fucking roof off.

Just one more day of tedium and then it's time to [size=l]PARTY!!![/size]

Can't wait to see you all.

According to a new report issued by the Popullation Reference Bureau the world's population will grow to 9.3 billion by 2050. The growth is not, however, distributed equally around the globe. Generally some of the least developed countries will experience the largest growth (China and India will have a total population of over 3 billion combined), while the US is one of a very few western countries to experience growth. Here's a nice little chart:



Of course all of these predictions are based on us not blowing each other up, or dying from meterological cataclysms unleashed from global temperature changes, or massive hunger... Though they have allowed for AIDS casualties, there are even some predictions (truly very sad ones) on the same page above with regards solely to the epidemic.

sidenote: thanks for the cool link to vintage Buffalo pics sqb [inlink]sqb,58[/inlink]
.

The Olympics are back at home, enjoying a warm mediterranean summer. The world is watching, and much is at stake. The titles of American glory rest in the balance. The young athletes' shoulders bear the burden for all of us. We can experience our triumph vicariously through the enthusiam of our heroes. Yet in times of defeat, when our perserverance is strenuously taxed, we do not waver, for our feet are fimrly planted upon the shoulders of those who have died for the freedom we enjoy today. The mostly forgotten athletes of yore, who bravely fought in the name of American superiority. Who gave, without regret, undying devotion to the cause of complete domination. The burden is heavy but we, through they, are able to bear it.

The games are so much more than that. They represent all of us in their universal struggle towards freedom. Culture can be reduced and defined to a brave team of five. Emotions long held sealed are unfettered in raptuous support. We are the team. We are the ones winning. And if we lose... our bootstraps will survive, battered yet intact. The American Dream lies but a pull away. So we pull, and we swim, and we leap, and we bound. Guns will we trigger, and weights will we lift. Dare I say "yogas and pilates and'the room is full of hotties"?

Our team lost. Womens' gymnastics, where we had all placed our hopes! Our crown has been pulverized by the heel of some romanian gypsy tramp. What nerve, don't they know who they're messing with. I may be 15 but I have the might of the US behind me honey. So, will it surprise me if next year we find WMD in Romania? Not one bit, the foundation has just been laid. Obviously those gypsies are using WMD-propulsion units in their gymsuits. B-52 lock on...NOW!!!

You approach Satan's wretched city where you behold a wide plain surrounded by iron walls. Before you are fields full of distress and torment terrible. Burning tombs are littered about the landscape. Inside these flaming sepulchers suffer the heretics, failing to believe in God and the afterlife, who make themselves audible by doleful sighs. You will join the wicked that lie here, and will be offered no respite. The three infernal Furies stained with blood, with limbs of women and hair of serpents, dwell in this circle of Hell.

God, those Furies are hot! And I'm proud to be labelled first and foremost a heretic. HellYeah!

The Dante's Inferno Test has banished you to the Sixth Level of Hell - The City of Dis!

Here is how you matched up against all the levels:
Level | Score
Purgatory (Repenting Believers)| Very Low
Level 1 - Limbo (Virtuous Non-Believers)| Very Low
Level 2 (Lustful)| Very High
Level 3 (Gluttonous)| High
Level 4 (Prodigal and Avaricious)| Low
Level 5 (Wrathful and Gloomy)| High
Level 6 - The City of Dis (Heretics)| Extreme
Level 7 (Violent)| Extreme
Level 8- the Malebolge (Fraudulent/Malicious/Panderers)| Very High
Level 9 - Cocytus (Treacherous)| Very High

Level descriptions:
Take the test:

and just you try'n stop me.

Why do it? I'm not bothering to ask myself. First reaction was, sounds fun! Buncha naked people and I get a free print. I haven't seen the terminal yet (is it really gonna do so much more damage to me naked than clothed?), so it's a good excuse to finally get there. I believe firmly that people need to get over themselves, and a great way to do that is gettin' naked. Everybody looks funny in real life. Take Brad Pitt and Nicole Kidman, put'em naked on the street, and you'll soon find that they're human too. Probably got a mole here or a stretch mark there. When the only naked people you see are yourself and the people in the magazines you can't help but feel inferior. Give yourself studio lights, hair designers, and computer airbrushes and you can be that fine too.

Is he taking advantage of us for doing it? Is Ansel Adaams taking advantage of the Grand Canyon? Did Warhol take advantage of the campbell soup can? Yes, he's gonna make money from it. But so many people are making money from other stupider things. I give him credit for daring to go there in the first place (before he gained "status" he faced many hurdles for this type of art), and I don't see why it was OK when he was "on the fringe" but now that he's gained acceptance he should be shunned. Shouldn't we be happy that he cracked the puritanical armor that America has erected against nudity in general?

But, again, I didn't want to think about it so much, Ima juz gon' git nekkid.

Apparently it may have been confusing that in my entry about paradise I refered to zen. Was it because I am somehow intertwining the holy religions of the world (though who's to say they don't need a little intertwining, splicing, and advice?)? Perhaps I don't "get" Buddhism. I probably don't (the book of Taoist I Ching in my bathroom may be confusing me). What I meant though was just genreal thoughts of "spirituality". The general, who am I? where do I belong? how do I fit in? and such. I understand that a central tenet of Buddhism would be forsaking this egoist search. You must be as a pebble in the stream who, through making no effort on its own behalf, interrupts and redirects the flow. Of course the effort is in allowing oneself to be that pebble, to shirk the worldly, the pettiness of desire...

What I think, going back to the top, is that all these religions have things of vast import to impart unto the world. The problem is that people (yes people, for the most part deities have had very little involvement) have been using these religions and subtly changing (dare I say, hope I say, perverting) them. People have interpreted Christ and somehow decided that killing can be justified. People have used Buddha to enslave others in communistic non-choice. What we need is to understand that Christ and Buddha would be great friends, and would both abhor what we have used their words for. What if someday people thought you so cool that they wrote books about you. Your message of peace and understanding was so succinct, pure, and just that they couldn't help it; you spoke to their souls. And then you died (as does every prophet on earth). You watch as the words and deeds you wrought on earth are transformed before your eyes. You see as people kill each other debating the worth of your views. You see them defending slaughter with your name. You hastily check the records (you have, of course, kept a comprehensive journal of everything you tried to teach while on earth) and reassure yourself that you never sanctioned any of these heinous acts, your words were only about peace, brotherhood, and unity.

So, do you think that Jesus, or Buddha, or any of the rest, are "up there" now, wondering if it was worth it? If they had known the deeds that were to happen because of their philosophy, would they have continued? Do they watch right now (and for the last couple millenium) and weep for the pain they have caused, however unitentionally and indirectly?

tonight that stupid man at the copshop on Lex and Elm wouldn't sell me beer in the bottle. He said it wouldn't fit through his hole, it was ridiculous. I bet the cops get beer in the bottle if they want it. What if I wanted donuts in the bottle, would that have fitted through? Stupid asshole. I bequeath you a scathing curse of achy ass. I hope that every time you need to use that ass of yours that it just aches and aches. So there. I even danced a little shaman dance. You achy-assed muthafucka!

the word is paradise!!

That's right, paradise. It comes from two Persian words, pairii (around), and idaeza (a wall), according to Dalrymple:

"The word was brought west by Xenophon, who introduced it into Greek when describing the fabulous garden built by the Persian Emperor Cyrus at Sardis; from the Greek paradeisoi it passed into Latin as paradisum; and hence into Middle English as paradis."

Funny that our vision of Heaven actually derives from an enclosed Persian pleasure garden. Paradise means enclosed by walls, which is not really to my liking. Perhaps that is the reason I don't want to go to heaven. Sounds so boring. God's watching you all the time. Everything's all ordered and good and right. Don't you see? It's all balance. Perfect white is no place to live a life. And you can't see in pitch dark. That's why the blend is so important. A little good, a little bad, a pinch of order, and a handful of chaos. Why strive for perfection when you can strive for life.Live to Learn. Learn to Love, and Love to Live (and all the other permutations).

Hey! Sometimes, you need your cheesy Zen entries. No?