it's a great life, if you don't weaken (matociquala) wrote,
it's a great life, if you don't weaken
matociquala

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We're not unreasonable. I mean, no one's going to eat your eyes.

While grocery shopping today, I had my biannual FEROCIOUS LIVERWURST DEATH CRAVING, so I bought liverwurst. (Mother Goose is the only brand that will serve, for historical reasons.) 

Anyway, for dinner, I had a piece of bread with liverwurst and cheese on it.

By eleven, I was hungry again, so I had another one, and realized I was done with liverwurst for another two years. This happens every time I have liverwurst: I have a craving, I eat some, then the next time I try to eat it, halfway through it starts tasting of old socks.

There must be a trace element in this stuff or something.

Maybe it's the vitamin A? Maybe this is God's way of telling me I need to turn that bag of carrots in the fridge into carrot juice tomorrow.

Blogger Brad Edmonds on the glory of liverwurst:

As usual, Italians remain the most accomplished dead European males with regard to food, the glory of liverwurst notwithstanding.



By the way, for those of you playing along at home, I  have finally managed to listen to enough David Bowie to annoy even myself, having been through every album I have until I couldn't stand it anymore, and all the erratic bits that have collected from here and there, and a good number of singles and concerty things on Youtube.

I am attempting to drive out the compulsion with Enya. It may be working. It may not be working.

But to present you with the spoils of my gathering, if you haven't already seen this link on stillsostrange's journal, and you are of any persuasion that might find tight leather pants on a gyrating middle-aged white boy entertaining (for whatever reason: we don't judge), you should really watch this concert video for "We Prick You." 

I particularly like the gesticulations between oh, about 1:01 and 1:45 on the clock, and the hand gestures that go with my favorite line in the song: "All the little fragile champion boys / Dripping on the end of a gun."

Talk about your arresting imagery.

And this is the most cheerful pop song about graphic horrible death I know of. It's always sort of effectively shocking when he does that Vegas lounge singer croon thing in the midst of a description of insanity and eventual inevitable suicide. 

Also it's a really good video.

I should warn that I can forsee circumstances in which these might be triggery for some viewers, as there is, well, not surprisingly, imagery of suicide and violence in both.


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Tags: bork! bork! bork!, entropy requires no maintenance, more-byronesque-than-thou, music
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