A makeshift guide to recognizing poetry outside of paradise.
Saturday, February 28, 2009
Mashup bash
My nails are painted with smiley faces, I'm grabbing all the neon in my closet, and in two hours I'll be en route to Philadelphia to finally take part in our generation's answer to the dance rave: a Gregg Gillis (a.k.a. GirlTalk) concert. Yay.
"Life's dirty. Life's unclean. It's birth, it's sex, it's the intestinal tract. One big squishy, unsanitary mess. It never gets any cleaner either. You know, dust to dust, worms crawl in, worms crawl out, right? Even though we know that, we still walk the walk, we still live the life. We're like a bunch of little kids. Little kids, you know, we jump in this big old pond of mud and we're slapping it all over our face, rubbing our hair all down our backs and we're making these glorious, gooey pies. That's us. We're fabulous."
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