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| POSTED BY: c4 on 09/16/2007 04:35:52 |
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"Life is imperfect.Why is that so reassuring?Crooked brown hotel roomsqueaky drawers tinmedicine cabinet no shelves.Fire alarm, air vent,cockroaches,holes in the wallover the bed.Desperately free,freelydesperate.I am dreamingof a man who iscalm and cooland who loves memadly.I have no longingfor sanity,I am dreamingof mad-love.I am dreamingof a manwho can sitfor days,who can walkfor daysand who can eat likean animal in the forest.I want wild eyes and peace.I want strength. Khaki, hands,sandals, grin, laugh,man.Life is imperfect.I do not need a man.Squeaky chairsqueaky bedsqueaky door.Go to bed Amelia,you need some sleep." one of my old college professors recently gave me two huge boxes of old (mostly
sxe, mostly hardcore, and mostly DIY) zines. --gag--but,
to be fair, there are definitely some classic pieces of nostalgiia
hidden deep within the folds of some serious hardline propganda.anyway,
while i was elbow-deep in innumerable, shitty, manifestos, i stumbled
upon this book. and it's fucking spectacular.
thanks, evil twin sister #3. #3.
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