"The invitation to Miss Myra St Claire's bobbing party spent the morning in his coat pocket where it had an intense physical affair with a dusty piece of peanut brittle."
sweet tits the family dog was tired of people asking, "which way is the bathroom" or "do you have a bathroom".
sweet tits the family dog stares too hard at pretty girls in the museum and probably comes off a little creepy.
sweet tits the family dog asked a girl if she was interested in getting coffee sometime or I don't know my friend is having a party on Tuesday and the girl said, "What?"
Sunday, August 23, 2009
i can't i can't i can't i wont i wont i don't i don't
"They're just giving external form to an event the substance of which already exists and has existed in them over time. Once you realize what's going on, the event of selfdestruction for all practical purposes exists. There's not much a person is apt to do in this situation, except "formalize" it"
this is the first step of an impossible project with no hope of completion.
brainstorm:
"angelfire" "geocities" fan-fiction, slash-fiction, wikipedia, yahoo! directories, aim, myspace bulletins, gmail livejournal old newspaper articles via NYTIMES.COM literary blogs mario teaches typing craigslist rideshare <- any mention of craigslist makes it feel gimmicky somehow, maybe deal with craigslist in an oblique way. gif's flash interfaces digg, somehow, maybe something boring that becomes popular, an article that buys into the whole thing because it's easy to write about obsessively refreshing for updates torrents google image searches
Do you (and by you i mean me, so really this is a masturbatory excercise, although the internet without masturbation isn't really the internet)know about the Cizeta-Moroder V16?
The Cizeta-Moroder V16 is a short story about the 80's.
Georgio Moroder invents Disco and rides this wave into the eighties. In 1988, he teams up with a Lamborghini parts manufacturer to realize his ultimate-hyper-masculine-fever-dream-cum-coke-fantasy -- This car weighs 4,000 lb's & runs on two V8 engine blocks Voltron'd together into a "V16". Moroder fucking goes for it, puts on the widest tires available on the market, full leather, air conditioning, ejector seat, whatever. When the car is finally ready for production, it costs $600,000, no one wants it, the economy fails, and only 8 are ever made.
OBVS a perfect parable for the eighties in that gordon gecko, new-money-and-cocaine, rise-and-fall-of-the-american-ego kind of way, and the main character was totally Giorgio Moroder, who sort of built up the cultural noise that eventually hit this crescendo or whatever.
on thursday i spent some time with Chelsea Martin and she said, "Did you ever say to your parents, 'Nickelodeon Magazine, PLEASE!'" and it was really funny. "<'/90's>"