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It has been many, many moons since I posted my own poetic incompetence. Here are two super-unrevised verses from my epic and pretentious ode to modern life: Modernity; or Hipster CoutureIDear Miss Perry, your "teenage dream" with skintight jeans Bothers me ad nauseam. With "wide load" hips like these Muffin tops sprout on me at any size and rise-- Even with anorexia. I can never buy Cheap clothes, made in China of course, that emulate Your style due to my curséd genetic hip fate; So what am I to do--sue my progenitors? That would be financial suicide; I need them more Than you to maintain my artistic lifestyle. Anyway, I sent your CD to the trash pile And purged your songs from my iTunes portfolio Because I hate you now. Go back to your real roots: Christian music. Oh no, the revealéd truth-- Sad hipster irony? IIToday I saw the sad, sad sight of agéd hipsters In their fixie peloton going down the demon Descent. For traffic ahead, they could not bother To break with e-mails on iPads to be checked again At all speeds; someone may have re-tweeted their blog Post on how "totally uncool Emo is" because "It is like so three years ago!" As to their togs, Pedaling in neon yellow flip flops is--and was-- Dangerous. So, they coasted into SUVs Little damaged by road rage between "soccer moms;" But rage arrived when dudes on fixies dented Custom urban tanks. Slouching slackers fled the scene-- Barely. Balls and bats were hurled at the hep hipster throng Oblivious to all but the fermented New brew at the totally organic party. Tags: leggo my eggo
Current State:  Creative Slut
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Oh, America! You beautiful country you, pilgrims' feet excluded. Land of the free, home of the brave--yes or no? Yes, indeed. Free as in "I'm not gonna listen to anyone else's advice because I'm all grown up;" and Brave as in "I'm gonna do what I want when I want so shut the fuck up." Basically, America's the teenage paragon among nation-states with über-idealistic bloat to compliment its sexual hang-ups. Really, just the majority of campaigning's political discourse orbits 'round sex, the main satellites being sexuality and contraceptives. The economy's of negligible when the citizens-to-be in my ovaries are more important than me; hey, who cares if there's no damn non-retail/service jobs in 2050 for them because future voters're more important to political fate then the living taxpayer. As to the "Ewwww, two dudes sleeping together!" what matters it if it's consensual adults, right? If the military poobahs can't get over it, well, their seeming mighty adolescent to me; people in the same unit shouldn't be having sex together anyway because, y'know, fraternizing easily breaks-up into cronyism's nauseous aftereffects. Hell, American citizen I am, what do I know? I'd probably be told by them fine Fox News folks to "move to <--Insert Socialist-Leaning Nation Here-->". I don't begrudge the free market system with regulations to keep both capitalist and socialist elements unhappy; what I totally begrudge is the fucked-up amounts of wasted election money. There's California, echoing Rome, where Governors/Senators need fortunes to get the highest political; is spending $150 million, the GDP of some nations, worth it? I don't think so. Yeah, campaigning creates jobs--but not the kind contributing much to humankind other than amusing scandals involving, say, blackbooks and bank accounts in the Bahamas. Fuck, how many billions are there candidates in crackwhore make-up, obscuring themselves with party gobbledygook, wasting on their promises-to-be-broken party? Those billions could've gone to infrastructure, not some fake born-again Tea Party nutjob who rents some properties to strip clubs. Oh yeah, this is America, y'know, the beautiful; correction, that's big and beautiful. Here, everything's bigger--especially the money, done to the silliest extremes because, well, America's got to show how edgy, how trendy it is to the world. Country's screaming to all the others: "Hey, look what I can do!" Tags: polysci blah
Current Sound: Not Katy Perry
Current State:  Bitchy
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Blah, I've got all weird with sport fannishness; oh shit, that's so fucking ordinary. Well, at least I chose snobbish sports like cycling and tennis to match my cultural snobbishness. Yeah, cycling, male and female alike, has doping baggage--but so do all sports; money omerta anyone? Anyway, microscopic affection from me for that narcissistic asshat from Texas Sir Lancelot. Allez Chavanel and the New French Wave! Oops, total digression. I'm more interested in the tennis doping, though; forums are full of diehard Fedtard and Nadaltard jerks fighting over who's the GOAT--but not enough on why does everyone looks like amateur bodybuilders these days? Really, it's got to be the off road/off court intrigues that entices me; ain't nothing fun as scandal, save when your favorites are totally kicking ass. Okay, now time to wait--and the wait will be long--for how dowdy Bud Selig will deal with many Yankees on steroids... Tags: desportes
Current State:  Snarkbot
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Huh? Hey, who's blog is this? What--you mean it's mine!? That can't be. Sure, I just happened to know the password, so what? Oh, I see it now! Silly me, I'm gotten so used to going E-less with  sansenmage; no, not as "sansnmag" but as sansenmag where it's too cyclo-slash-centric at times (I advise you to avoid it and its Twitter sellout). Damn, been hanging 'round strange sport slashy places lately--egads! Now, what do I do here? I paid for it so I must do something 'cause I'm not defecting to unhipster Tumblr. Hmm, maybe hone my Twitter skills? Nah, but I've so much to complain about like, um, "Mad Men" has only one more episode this season. Even scarier, I wasted time watching The Scorpion King. What really scares me--and I mean REALLY scares me--is that LiveJournal's spellcheck still doesn't think blog really, totally is a word. Quelle horreur! Tags: blogomonium
Current Sound: The Sound of Silence
Current State:  Mystified
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Past Tense
aggravated
Angsty-Wangsty
Cranky
Mournful
Giggly
Francophilia?
Tiring
Awrgh!
Uncertain
Listless
Contemplative