Thursday, January 21, 2010
Who knew he was ever so hot. ever ever so hot. Andy Warhol must have been aware of this.
"He looks like an angel,
his skin makes me cry!"
Christopher Walken is a regular on twitter. He's abstractly hilarious. His handle is "Trelvix," in case you're into that: "Yes. You can die from a paper cut. Eventually."
X-ray Torso
Sunday, January 17, 2010
"Ceranation"
This picture has made me laugh and laugh for days, how can I not post it.
It depicts Michael Cera with a new hairstyle done by one of the self-proclaimed "Guidos" from the show Jersey Shore. These people were all over my magazines last week and I had no idea. I felt culturally clueless. Which is annoying.
Guy told me Jersey Show is "Bad. Real bad. But in a kind-of good way."
After a few viewings it seems no different than any Real World seasons, but the Michael Cera clips are adorable and smile-ilicious. Who knew when Arrested Development started that George Michael would turn out so irresistible.
Love that he is seeing an expensive stylist; how can you miss it. Until the "Guidos" take over.
Beck and Charlotte
Beck has written and produced an album for Charlotte Gainsbourg. People all over Europe are freaking out about it. Not available here. This writer gets frustrated. This writer must have new Beck and Charlotte record. What to do. Drum fingers on hard surface. Think think think.
Until then, at least there is a luscious video to watch.
Saturday, January 16, 2010
Thursday, January 14, 2010
Sunday, January 10, 2010
Thursday, January 07, 2010
Making Coffee Thoughts
as i make coffee thoughtsrush out of my head
my ears, fastlikewater.
and everything i say in my head is beautiful
with clarity
and s p a c e like the great poets
like
brautigan,
carroll,
ginsberg,
free-flowing
verse, it comes in a song.
what am i thinking with such grace
in the morning cold feet standing at the coffee maker,
what is so beautiful
and loose
and clear
and poetic?
the funny thing here is
there is no record of what has transpired.
i am vapor.
the beauty the cloud that floats through my head
to the other side
has evaporated to the point of no return.
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