Unknown Legend

Is this or is this not one of the sexiest fucking pics you have ever seen? Yes? I thought so. If I could party with any female on earth, she would be the one. Goddamn.

CARL

See this guy here? He possesses a purity of heart and a generosity of spirit that leaves me breathless. He's been a part of life for eight years now, and I love him with a fevered intensity. If parents of human children feel even a fraction of the affection I feel for this little fellow, I'm surprised they ever let them leave the house. Should someone make the mistake of harming him, I would have no problem killing them instantly.

I've known quite a few people in my day, and there is not a single one of them that I believe remains the same entity once my back is turned. I have no such belief regarding him. He is the most loyal and soulful being I have ever known, and I'd trade a million of you for one of him. And twice on Sundays.

Psalm 116:12

THERE'S A REASON THEY CALL IT A "BLAST"

Being visited suddenly by something or someone from your past, I am convinced, calls up something more than mere psychic nostalgia. The older I get, the more convinced I am that these notorious "blasts from the past" are an actual physiological phenomenon; that they produce real chemical reactions in the brain and in other parts of the body that, in turn, produce some type of euphoric event.

This has happened to me in the past few days. A voice from the past has spoken up, and I've paid attention. Every inch of my brain and spine are licked with every last detail of the events of years ago. My body has literally had a physical reaction to this occurrence. It's like being punched in the face, only not as subtle. Whoever posited the theory that we are the sum of the things we do and feel must have been on to something. I want to stay in this spot, in this particular time and place, for the rest of my life. It's like some wonderful dream from which I have no desire to awake.

I remember the person I was, the things I said and did, the things that were said and done to me, all rolled up into a snowball of vivid recollection. It's an interesting little dance we do with the past. While there is the tried and true cliche of not dwelling there and allowing it to consume us, there is also the undeniable truth that the past shapes us, and molds us into who we are today. As such, it can never be fully irrelevant or a mere theoretical entity to be shoved aside when it coincides with our present day comfort. It has to be nurtured and respected, and granted unlimited access when the need so calls.

MY FANTASY LIFE AS A FAMILIAR

But listen carefully to the sound
Of your loneliness
Like a heartbeat drives you mad
In the stillness of remembering
What you had
And what you lost.

Deep in every man's heart, I think, is that first taste of female beauty; the first time you realized what a gorgeous and mystifying race of creatures these beings were. I'm not talking about a first crush, as that could be anything with a pair of tits and a sassy 'tude. No, the feeling to which I refer runs a little deeper, a little stronger than a crush. No, I'm talking about one of those moments where a boy comes to the realization that girls are part of an alien and wonderful race all their own, with a different purpose and meaning that their male counterparts couldn't possibly comprehend.

For better or for worse, that moment came for me the first time I had heard Stevie Nicks on the radio. Her voice was like something from another universe, angelic and ethereal. She sang about things magical and other-worldly, the vibrato in her voice emphasizing the mysteries in her untamed soul.

Even more alluring was that she was rumored to be a witch. Coming from an ultra-fundamentalist background, there were few things more intriguing to me than a beautiful blonde who violated God's holy laws and sought to manipulate nature for her own ends. I used to fantasize about being her minion, her familiar, subverting my needs for her own witchy desires.

And he was just like a great dark wing
Within the wings of a storm
I think I had met my match,
He was singing...
And undoing...
And undoing...
The laces
Undoing the laces

Her voice spoke of a world where lovers embraced late into the night, murmuring things to each other too pristine for the vulgarity of the everyday world. Her clothing was loose and flowing, befitting of a creature of the wild. She was everything I had been taught to fear, and everything I longed to embrace.

She is older now, of course, and much of the mystique is gone. But her voice and her beauty still take me somewhere I want to be. And for that, she will always be my first real love.

Black shadow of a woman
Black widow
Pale shadow of a dragon
Death woman

KE$HA

I don't have any excuses, explanations, regrets, rationalizations, or apologies. I like her. Her songs are catchy and put me in a good mood.

Oh, and I like Miley Cyrus, too.

Now fuck off.

TRANSCENDENCE II

This is probably my favorite picture that I have ever seen. I don't know why. I find it wistful and bittersweet, and not without an element of the eternal. Part of me would like to know more about it, such as the who, the where, etc. But then, I've learned that anytime you take part of the mystique away from something, you stand a chance of spoiling the aesthetic it provided in the first place. So no internet searches for me.

"WITH MY HANDS AROUND THE THROAT OF A WHITE MAN"

Supposedly, this was jazz great Miles Davis's response when asked how he would like to spend his last ten minutes alive. Sorry, but that's just a cool-ass fucking quote.