ass-lazy tropicana of the mind
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2002-07-23
Nachos and hip hop, baby
I want some nachos.
I can't get over how much I want nachos.
BIg freakin' nachos, covered in that fake nacho cheese and refried beans and chunks of steak and sour cream and fresh guacamole and salsa and loads more cheese and black olives....
In a huge styrofoam package and coming with quesadillas and salsa and 40-ounce sodas. Sitting on the armchair watchin' Star Trek and eatin' my nachos, enjoyin' life the only way I can.
Goddamn I want some nachos!
Got another package from my bitches at Amazon.uk today. Well, okay, I can't sound more macho than I am. I bought some stuff, they send it to me. Anything more cool sounding would just be stupid.
Got the latest Banana Yoshimoto novel, Goodbye Tsugumi, which ought to be an enjoyable read in that zen-ed out mellow groovy world that Banana always creates... Of course, if I read this, then I'll want to re-read everything, and right now, I have no clue as to where Kitchen or Lizard is -- buried in one of two boxes, I imagine -- which are both buried under other boxes. And suitcases. And random stuff.
Damn, I wanna go find Kitchen. I want to re-read it and spend a few days just living in the happy world where transsexuals run nightclubs and gladly take in orphaned girls. Where magical things can happen on certain bridges on certain mornings.
But, okay, first Goodbye Tsugumi. Because it's new.
And it makes up for the fact that I'm reading The Midwich Cuckoos. Which was what Village Of The Damned was based on. So there's the passing out and the pregnancies and all the fun...in a low-rent 60s' England way. So I'm amused to no end by it.
Also got Princess Superstar Is, an album Jen kept on recommending to me. Listened to one song, fell in love, and can't wait until tomorrow when I'm sitting at work and listening to it madly.
White girls rapping, geeks rapping, it's what I'm all about now -- to the point where I'm comin' up with rhymes of my own.
They're shit, of course, but, hey, I laugh at them endlessly.
what I want what I want what I really really want
a backbone connected to my website
downloading porn at the speed of light
the latest hit actress in my bed
screaming and begging to give me head
silver knickers, a fake fur coat
a big ass mansion with room for my boat
(not that I'll drive it or take it from dock)
a home theater system and a silicone cock
what I want what I want what I really really want
So low-rent and pervy. All wifebeater tank tops and cutoffs and beat-up creakin' macs with cracked software.
Maybe I could start a whole new trend of girlnerdcore. Dykeadelic geekadelic mayhem.
Except that would require effort. And fuck knows I can't get into that whole effort thing anymore. Hell, I can't even get into a fightin' mood over people knockin' my fun. Because, effort.
Too busy figuring out what to give people who did the intensely fucking groovy thing of donating cash to dymphna.net. Too busy making up design stuff for various things. Too busy listening to nerdcore hiphop and reading Japanese pop novels.
Too busy livin' to complain. And, really, shouldn't everyone else be doin' that too?
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