What we’re gonna do now my children is trip down the boulevard on the Mothership Funkadelic, with a little help from Shrub’s Funkin’ Love Orchestra. Hell yeah…feel the rhythm and hear the rhyme as the music man is keeping time.
Parliament is now in session even though this is not a democracy, it’s a blogocracy, and I have the keys bitches! I am God on this blog, a blog god so to speak, and you all must tremble in awe of my skills. Or not.
The very kinky girl in the corner with the Isabelle Haze clouding her gaze as she beats a funky refrain ain’t no sage in a dry wall cage because that’s Shrub’s domain.
Why this self-indulgent sidewalk poetry you ask. Simple, it’s 25 degrees and cloudy outside with a dusting of snow covering the cityscape. And I am sick to fucking death of winter, yet I seem to wax the most poetic the worse the weather…go figure. A chill wind blows just outside my windowpane as the hands of Mother Nature show no mercy. Shit, would I like to stop the heavens, grab a big ass eraser, and obliterate the clouds so that my glorious sun could radiate the mortal realm with its warmth. I’m sick of grayness accompanied by below freezing temperatures.
I had the coolest dream the other night, its vividness was startling. I sat there cuddling with this gorgeous girl. She was the epitome of Mediterranean beauty…olive toned skin, glistening black hair, big almond shaped brown eyes, flat tummy, sexy as hell. We sat facing each other with her head resting on my shoulder while I gently rubbed the back of her neck. I swear I can still smell her hair and remember the feel of that impossibly smooth skin. To sleep, per chance to dream…
Let’s turn the volume up to a nice respectable ear shattering level, put on Ministry’s epic anthem So What, or the entire Nine Inch Nails CD Pretty Hate Machine, or The Black Album by Metallica, or maybe Mer De Moms by A Perfect Circle, or maybe The Fray’s colossal debut album How To Sava A Life, or Doo-Bop by Miles Davis, or any ditty by George Clinton and the P Funk All Stars, and let the mind flow. Find your favorite CD, put it on at the proper volume, sit back, and let the mind wander, meander, trip, skip, and flow as the music takes you on an afternoon jaunt. If you have an iPod even better…make a play list of your favorite songs and don’t fight the feeling. Dance, clean, type, sing to your heart’s content. It’s truly cathartic in a most Zen sorta way.
I just bought four more DVD’s I have little chance of watching in the near future. But I felt compelled because they look so damn good, kind of like window shopping at a steak house, everything looks enticing. Those tricky bastards, they saw me coming!
The left motor has essentially died on my wheel chair. And if you think I like spinning in circles when the thing heats up you’re freakin’ mental. I can’t even top a decently steep incline without assistance. Fucking thing!
Well, I’ll bring this tortuous tryst to a merciful close. Later one and all.
