Class-Punk

"Upbeat" can still be pretentious, underground, 80's revival music.

They are a cool band; as much as I'd like more good Dark Indie to be around I try to keep an imbalance of stuff that's more upbeat, probably for sanity. This has also become a repeated, introspective writing song for me.

At this point I'm an open romance misogynist, but to some degree I feel I also have to put on an act so it doesn't affect my future fiction.

The master travels without leaving.

However the promotion of a service is directly correlated towards making money and increasing the number of people at the event. But social division is inherently dark, like a chorused guitar.

This weekend was not boring, weight training on 2 hours of sleep, and partying with army lieutenants. I need to heal my ulcer(s) and drinking any alcohol just makes me sick, so I'm totally committed now to giving up all soda and alcohol until I get through my script refills.

He always considers a Goth/Post-Punk night to have one theme: The bands that are playing.

The recent and distant past can be forgotten along with all the bad in it. Right now is the time of hot beverages. -- Declaration of Hot Beverages, Section T, Mint, Sweetened.

I like to think they went to the condos. http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=0sBjxES9Kik

He's a newspaper man. http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=6gYbgZUgMc0 And he gets his best ideas from a newspaper stand. From his boots to his pants to his comments and his rants, He knows that any little article will do. Though he expresses some confusion 'bout his part in the plan, And he can't understand that he's not in command, The decisions underwritten by the cash in his hand, Bought a sweater for his weimaraners too. Now I'm no mad man but that's insanity, Feast before famine and more before family, Goes and shows up with more bowls and more, Cups and the riot for the last hot meal erupts. Corrupts his hard drive through the leanest months, Shells out the hard cash for the sickest stunts. On aftershave, on gasoline He flips the page and turns the scene. In my mind I'm drowning butterflies, Broken dreams and alibis, that's fine. I've seen my palette blown to monochrome, Hollow heart clicks hollow tone, it's time. Eye on authority, thumb prints a forgery, Boy ain't it crazy what the lights can do. For counterfeit community every opportunity, Wasted as the space between the flash tattoo. And the half-hearted hologram posed for the party, Now he gloss full bleed on a deaf dumb tree. Cod liver dollar signs, credit card autograph, Down for the record but not for freedom. Angry young mannequin, American apparently, Still to the rhythm better get to the back of me. Can't stand the vision, better tongue the anatomy, Gold plated overhead blank transparency. In the days of old you were a nut, Now you need three bumps before you cut. Not that I should care about, nothing I ain't scared of, But I guess, you had to be there In my mind I'm breeding butterflies, Broken dreams and alibis, that's fine. I've seen my palette blown to monochrome Hollow heart clicks hollow tone, in time. I see you figured in your action pose, Foam injected Axl Rose, life size. Should something shake you and you drop the news, Lord just keep your dancing shoes off mine.

I've changed my mind in the spirit of Mitt Romney! I'll be votin' for Ron Paul.

Lately, bored and desensitized.

I secretly left my opinion about this in the gif thread. But haters gonna hate.

This is my digital, esoteric library. I still wouldn't mind a physical collection someday focused on non-dual teachings and kundalini.

Memo to self: * Acquire Irish Rose. * Drink half the bottle. * Write.

The last time I got sick there was at least three times as much blood as normal. I haven't completed the split I started last week because walking makes me gag. I'm waiting with anticipation for the date I can go to the hospital to get ulcer medication even though I'm borrowing some in the meantime.

Technically still a Religion ROFL..

Pull out guitar, put a chorus on it, and mess around till I get sleepy.