A makeshift guide to recognizing poetry outside of paradise.
Saturday, June 6, 2009
Movin' on up
Found my future home sweet home (and first NYC apartment) yesterday and have been on a decor-spiration binge ever since. I wouldn't mind a room that looked like this:
"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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