Shut your windows on your birthday

For real, I've woken up four times in the last two hours. Can't sleep. It's warm in here, this fan is doing nothing except circulating air that has the same feeling as that greasy lotion feeling ten minutes after the fact.

So, I'm in bed. I'm naked. I think I'll turn on music.

Group Home. Okay. Great album.

This blog needs to be noticed. It needs to be a big deal. Huge, epic. Leaning Tower of Pisa finally straightening out big. Do you read this blog? Well, link it on your blog. That's cool with me. Think of this blog as an extra puzzle piece, the one that got shoved between couch cushions at that Halloween party. You can finally snap that piece of the clock face into place.

Phew. Rest easy. Oh yeah, link this shit. Seriously. Please. Link it. Don't make me pout. Too late.

**

I hate Bob Dylan. I don't like his music. I could name 20 song writers who eclipse his shit.

Ready? Go.

Something beautiful happened in the church house,
but it didn't have to do with God.
And something beautiful happened in the court house,
but it didn't have to do with the law.
Something beautiful happened in the theater,
but it didn't have to do with the play.
And all this beautiful is smuggled like a secret
and it doesn't have to be that way.

-Q and Not U

Sorry B, you couldn't do that if you tried. I mean, read that two or three times. Yeah, I know. Hair in the pasta. Dropping the dog food in the hallway. No more toilet paper and you just crushed half a Crave Case with Tom.

Bam. The song has relevance. It's not like a Dylan song where it only matters in the context of the 60s. Wah wah, like a rolling stone. Sure. Who cares?! Beauty's been supressed for thousands of years, Bobby. We're all oppressed. Black, white, purple, genderless, tables, lampshades, etc. Fuck this Vietnam trip, it's about things. I'm pretty sure our man William Carlos Williams said it best:


"No ideas but in things."

And there's a shot to deep left field........it might be.....it could be.....GONEEEEEEEE.

Let's demolish Bob Dylan together.

**

My birthday's comin' up. What'd you get me? It's okay, I'll take gift cards. You can stoop that low. Just don't except an action figure from me for Christmas, prick.