Another feckin* meme? What is it too February for all you people? (yea, I said it: you people...what?) Do they just sit around and mull, stew, and contra-fabulate, until they come up with some other twist-list to foist on the rest of us who are just too Februtarded to resist participating? OK. ok. I'll do it.
This fuck-you goes out to Catherine at Seventh Notebook. But it's a fuck-you between friends, so don't think you can just pop over there and—willy nilly—fuck-you her, and get away with it. Like I can. Because...like, I'm her friend. Yah. Since way back... back... to the Laughingsky daze, yah. So, like, there.
Twenty albums that scraped a hole in my soul...
(this dates a person better than a birth certificate)
Chicago VII
Chicago
Around the World
Three Dog Night
Get Your Wings
Aerosmith
Frampton Comes Alive
Peter Frampton
Rumors
Fleetwood Mac
Led Zeppelin
Led Zeppelin
The Best of the Doobies
The Doobie Brothers
Boston
Boston
The Yes Album
Yes
Crisis What Crisis?
Supertramp
The Last Waltz
The Band
Their Greatest Hits (71-75)
The Eagles
I Robot
Alan Parsons Project
Abraxas
Santana
Fragile
Yes
Sweet Dreams (Are Made of This)
Eurythmics
Delicate Sound of Thunder
Pink Floyd
Yourself or Someone Like You
Matchbox 20
Tigerlily
Natalie Merchant
In Sides
Orbital
Can you be happy with the movies, and the ads, and the clothes in the stores, and the doctors, and the eyes as you walk down the street all telling you there is something wrong with you? No. You cannot be happy. Because, you poor darling baby, you believe them. — Katherine Dunn (Portland novellist, journalist, & radio personality)
*a Davecatism I borrowed; for-because this post already had nuff too much fuck in it.
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
No comments:
Post a Comment