As como del fondo de la msica
brota una nota
que mientras vibra crece y se adelgaza
hasta que en otra msica enmudece,
brota del fondo del silencio
otro silencio, aguda torre, espada,
y sube y crece y nos suspende
y mientras sube caen
recuerdos, esperanzas,
las pequeas mentiras y las grandes,
y queremos gritar y en la garganta
se desvanece el grito:
desembocamos al silencio
en donde los silencios enmudecen.
-Octavio Paz
ever laugh at the irony of certain situations you find yourself in? sure you do. here's mine: i've recently made several new friends, among them some dynamic, incredibly talented gay fellows. and god bless them all. each and every one. but now here's where the irony kicks in: between them i've nailed down most of the personality traits i look for in a squaw. unfortunately these fellows - being the fellows that they are - have all the wrong parts. where there should be boobs there is hair. where there should be vageenees there are shrivled up little peckers (i haven't actually checked, but i'm fairly certain this is the case). and yes yes yes i've done all the considering and hemmng and hawing about switching sides, because really if that did it for me, believe me i'd be white on muther fucking rice. but alas boobs and vageenees are what turn my crank.
now to be fair, after my last paramour i've taken myself off the market for a couple of months as i can't in any fairness support the emotional baggage. the whole "me time" deal. you know the drill. no sour grapes. just part of my healthy balanced breakfast approach to life. but being a human i'd be shitting you if i said some part of me didn't always have the corner of my eye open. "up with skirts! down with pants!" i say. but since late february it seems god has had a mix up with my standing order. or the old boy is just playing a little prank on yours truly. ha ha god! funny funny. now let's straighten shit out, how 'bout it?
and incidentally while on the subject of god, i need to speak with the person in charge of winter. . .fucker has my boot written all over his ass.
how much does kyuss rock my shit? alllllllllll the way up to volume ten.
happy weekend kids.
brota una nota
que mientras vibra crece y se adelgaza
hasta que en otra msica enmudece,
brota del fondo del silencio
otro silencio, aguda torre, espada,
y sube y crece y nos suspende
y mientras sube caen
recuerdos, esperanzas,
las pequeas mentiras y las grandes,
y queremos gritar y en la garganta
se desvanece el grito:
desembocamos al silencio
en donde los silencios enmudecen.
-Octavio Paz
ever laugh at the irony of certain situations you find yourself in? sure you do. here's mine: i've recently made several new friends, among them some dynamic, incredibly talented gay fellows. and god bless them all. each and every one. but now here's where the irony kicks in: between them i've nailed down most of the personality traits i look for in a squaw. unfortunately these fellows - being the fellows that they are - have all the wrong parts. where there should be boobs there is hair. where there should be vageenees there are shrivled up little peckers (i haven't actually checked, but i'm fairly certain this is the case). and yes yes yes i've done all the considering and hemmng and hawing about switching sides, because really if that did it for me, believe me i'd be white on muther fucking rice. but alas boobs and vageenees are what turn my crank.
now to be fair, after my last paramour i've taken myself off the market for a couple of months as i can't in any fairness support the emotional baggage. the whole "me time" deal. you know the drill. no sour grapes. just part of my healthy balanced breakfast approach to life. but being a human i'd be shitting you if i said some part of me didn't always have the corner of my eye open. "up with skirts! down with pants!" i say. but since late february it seems god has had a mix up with my standing order. or the old boy is just playing a little prank on yours truly. ha ha god! funny funny. now let's straighten shit out, how 'bout it?
and incidentally while on the subject of god, i need to speak with the person in charge of winter. . .fucker has my boot written all over his ass.
how much does kyuss rock my shit? alllllllllll the way up to volume ten.
happy weekend kids.
VIEW 3 of 3 COMMENTS
defensive is my middle name
i apologize