Again, Missing You/An Observation

Ahh, tumblr, I have been informed that I do not post to you often enough.  So, here I am, on bended knee, begging apologies for my lack of postage.

Today was the memorial or Michael Jackson, I am probably one of the few who did not partake in any of the festivities, instead I did some tasks around the house.  It is not that I am that calloused towards MJ’s death, I just feel that he is a celebrity, a singer, a crackpot, possibly a pedophile, and none of that matters.  When Ronald Reagan died there was significantly less press coverage than has been on MJ for the past 2 weeks.  When the Pope died, again the same press coverage as Reagan.  I think I have posted about role models in the past, and agin would like to remind any readers of who we should memorialize.  Michael Jackson was the King of Pop, he did for pop music what Elvis did for rock and roll.  His music was unique and inventive and he was talented.  But, the majority of the people at the “memorial” service today never met the guy, never stood in the same room as he did, probably never physically put eyes on him.

I do not want anyone to think I am anti-MJ, instead let’s remember him for his music, not the way he died.  Let’s also spend more time remembering those who have truly done something important in our lives, not just the celebrities.

—C

In honor of @glindsey1023… I had completely forgotten about this wonderful disgrace of a song.
The Guy...

I hate this guy.  I hate that guy.  That guy that gets lost in his own head when he loses track of his own feelings.  This guy.  This guy is the reason I am an emotional recluse.  I hate being the guy that analyses syntax or adverb usage.  I don’t like being that guy or may or may not be falling for someone who may or may not be good for him.

I’m the guy that bets of the favorite.  I lay my money on the sure thing.  I’m not that guy, but I’m turning into this guy, and eventually will be the other guy again.

Wrong, just wrong
tip-sexy_venison.jpg
Memorial Day

A brief note to all those that have served our country, giving their lives so that others may enjoy the freedoms that we have. Simply put,

Thank you.

—C

Here I sit, wasting the day. Listening to music and pondering life’s bigger questions. Wondering if there is an answer to any of them, some of them, or none of them. I guess that is the first question I need answered. Tough one isn’t it?

Stay tuned:  nude photos of yours truly coming soon.

-B

Stress.
I realize I work in a high stress environment, but I hate it when people use it to act like fucking monkeys flinging poo. Seriously, some people need to relax. — C
"…And whether or not it is clear to you,
no doubt the universe is unfolding as it should…"
— **excerpt from Max Ehrmann’s DESIDERATA**
I find this tragically amusing...

In the book Knocking On Heaven’s Door (the stories of how countless rock stars died), they have an odd misprint.  At first they say accurately that Sid Viscious died of a drug overdose at the age of 21 on February 2, 1979.  He was born on May 10, 1957…again that would have made him 21.

Where it gets odd is when it goes on to mention the death of his mother, Anne Beverly.  They said she died in 1997…”at the age of 44”.  Which would mean she was born sometime around 1953, this would make her around four years old at the conception of her own son…kinda gross, right?  In reality Beverly was born in 1933, and died in 1997 at the age of 64…not 44.

And oddly enough in writing this entry I realized that today is Sid’s birthday…how creepy is it that I just happened to pick up that page of that particular book today, and then got intrigued by their gross oversight in a misprint?  Freaky.

Happy Would-Be Birthday, Sid!!!

Kiss and Make-up

Since Mac has been bugging me all week to let her put make-up on me…I’m beginning to wonder if I’m a make-up kind of guy.  Do I have the features that accentuated by long flowing streaks of rouge?  Would my eyelashes benefit from the sweet caress of a masacara brush?  Do my lips lusciously swell beneath the oily veneer of Parisian Pink lipstick, adorned by Wimsical Pink lip liner?  Are my eyes served by the charcoal dusting of eye make-up?

I don’t think so.

Removing my propensity to not have faith in my fascial structure, that it cannot pull off Mac’s new and improved make over.  I honestly just don’t think I’m cool enough to sport women’s fashion.  I am no Robert Smith or David Bowie.  I am not a Wayans Brother (circa “White Chicks” era).  Nor am I emo like Pete Wentz and The Madden boys (circa all of the time).  Sadly MacKenzie…I just don’t think your make-up plan is for me.

-BI don't think it's working...

Currently listening to “Born to Run” - Bruce Springsteen and The E Street Band - live version.
Fickle Beast of Fate

Why is it that when I know I need to be studying, I would rather sleep.  But when I know I should be sleeping I don’t want to study.  Shouldn’t these be equally in their reversibility? Please and thank you for your help.

—C

Also, feel free to come up to B&N on Hurstbourne Lane and bother me if you will/want.

C

Ahhh, Tumblr, you vixen of surprise. How you keep me entertained on slow mornings as I am waking up. Truly, your majesty is not rivaled. —C
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Themed by: Hunson