(spots deer, tells no one)

These scrappy, neglected "latch-key kids" need to know that people care about them.

"A weatherbeaten, discarded pornographic magazine is a precious relic, seemingly made of the stuff of rumor and dream, like the Shards of Narsil.

Finally, the tweens can have nice things.

Ypsilanti All-Stars?

…unless you enjoy pepperoni grease in your butt-crack.

Moondog (listening for the first time…fantastic)
Esquivel
Henry Flynt
Astrud Gilberto
Yma Sumac
the Femmes de Paris compilation
Fear of God (Within the Veil)
Lee "Scratch" Perry (Arkology)
Ananda Shankar
Glenn Gould's Solitude Trilogy

After the party comes the decline.

The first two VU albums have a nice balance between Lou Reed and John Cale, and the textures, as you notice, are so assertive that they almost feel like physical objects with mass and density.

They can never put a tail on it.

Get a second opinion. You might be, like, 3% Cthulhu. How cool would that be?

That's a fairly specific sentence, but I bet it's been uttered before.

That's not even arguable. It's the stone, undeniable truth.

"Of course I've heard of the Beatles, you pinhead."

Yeah, it SEEMS easy. But it requires a lot a of research.

If your parents fucked on a boat, then you'd be onto something.

"Fuck all y'all! I'm going home. I watched my wife work all day gettin' thirty bags ready for you ungrateful sonsabitches! And all I hear is criticize, criticize, criticize. From now on don't ask me or mine for nothin'!"

Plausible…

You know my bus-riding days are over
Does that mean that I'm getting boring?
You tell me
I'm tired of listening to myself now
Of fixing things in Home Improvements for the rest of them…

The Beginning Stages…, white robe wearing version.