3:53 a.m.

Nursery rhyme for bedtime.

Stockholm Syndrome

Being kidnapped from your home by a lunatic only to fall in love with him/her is conceptually so fascinating to me. Stockholm Syndrome is one of my favorite subjects and I try to substitute worries with evaluations of how a person falls in love with the enemy. I often dream of it as well. Does panic just get too unbearable and their need for comfort gets out of hand that they simply find comfort in their abductor? Is it simply just a symptom of brain wash? If I were kidnapped, I wouldn't be surprised if I too would fall in love. I like old, creepy individuals- they intrigue me. But lets hope that does not happen.

Fuck YEAH! (x3)

As every knows, the Yeah Yeah Yeahs are fucking back! The new album, It's Blitz, is much different from their old stuff so a lot of apprehension will probably surface even with their fans. It is not my favorite album, but I still really like it. Karen O has entered her 30s and the new decade has made her hotter. She seems more confident and less childish. The other 2 look the same, maybe a bit older.
The video takes place in San Francisco, see if you recognize the locations!
Zero-Yeah Yeah Yeahs

MOTHER OF FUCK

This clip from The Poughkeepsie Tapes has haunted me for days. You better watch it.

This is not a true story, it is pseudo-documentary, according to Wikipedia at least. I have taken some sleeping antidotes and thus, too lethargic for investigating. So make the story what you want. Happy viewings.

Hi Clint

Since I have nothing to write about and my degeneracy is getting the best of me, I'm watching Fistful of Dollars. Clint Eastwood and River Phoenix have quite a resemblance. Maybe River would end up aging like Clint? Wondering too much would kill us though. I reached this conclusion after just watching Stand By Me on AMC. Well that's not important.

GARBO.

A Nightmare to Hate

I hope I never dream nor live this. I feel a severe thud to the ground and open my eyes to see that I have returned to the abominated desert. I look around and see that I am stranded. I don't know how I have gotten there and if I will ever escape. I hear foot steps and turn around to see a group of tatted up pop-punkers. They have the X's on their hands which means the worst; straight-edge. One picks me up and says I have had head trauma and that it is okay now since I am in Arizona and will be staying there for the rest of my life. My body is inert and I cannot speak because my throat is too dry. The leader of the pack lifts me and says he is going to place me on the board of an MRI machine. They strap me on just in case my body is going to move again. Then the wingman comes in with some headphones with music that they believe will help my head recover; Journey, my all time hated band. My body is still inert, so I just sob uncontrollably as the straight edge pack wheels me and the machine across the desert. When they make it to Scottsdale, I am informed I will not ever be able to pursue my goals or be the person I want to be. I will dress how they want and I cannot go out and have fun on my own. I will be a straight edge cyborg for these criminals. When they take me out of the MRI board, they put me in a white outfit (so they can find me easily) and place a mask over my face so I cannot speak- ever. They also give me a Louis Vuitton purse so I will fit in with the culture. I cannot take the life that I have been forced into which has no escape. I find one escape and luckily Scottsdale is full of pools...