Peyton: Hey, Peyton Manning here to talk to you about a great limited-time offer from the Prince of Darkness.
Up to your asshole in debt? Finding payday advance loans and armed robbery to be too much of a hassle? Maybe just want some arbitrary bullshit?
Ever thought of selling your soul to the Devil?
Whoawhoawhoa. Hear me out. And you’ll discover why there’s never been a better time to sell than now.
Don’t be duped into selling your everlasting essence to one of those big corporations or, even worse, some Portuguese guy who promises you a bigger dick. Go with the fictive religious entity with a couple thousand year track record of eternal bargains. We’re offering low introductory rates.
What are you using it for anyway? Why not make that soul work for you?
(cut to family trying to pack their car to go on a vacation)
Mom: The car’s full. We can’t fit anymore.
Dad: If only we didn’t have these damn souls weighing us down!
Peyton Manning: That’s right. They’ll even take Hindus, Sikhs or B’ahai and shit. Whatever it is dark-skinned worship. It’s all good. Believe it or not, but your souls are worth only marginally less than a real person’s.
(SNL)
If I had a day that I could give you
I’d give to you a day just like today
If I had a song that I could sing for you
I’d sing a song to make you feel this way
Sunshine On My Shoulders, John Denver
Hello, Darkness, my old friend
I've come to talk with you again
Because a vision softly creeping,
Left its seeds while I was sleeping,
And the vision that was planted in my brain
Still remains
Within the sound of silence.
In restless dreams I walked alone
Narrow streets of cobblestone,
’neath the halo of a street lamp,
I turned my collar to the cold and damp
When my eyes were stabbed by the flash of
A neon light
That split the night
And touched the sound of silence. Simon & Garfunkel
South Park
"Damn, woman! I just gave you sweet loving five minutes ago! You trying to kill me or something?"
Stan : Why would God let Kenny die, Chef? Why? Kenny's my friend. Why can't God take someone else's friend?
Chef : Stan, sometimes God takes those closest to us, because it makes him feel better about himself. He is a very vengeful God, Stan. He's all pissed off about something we did thousands of years ago. He just can't get over it, so he doesn't care who he takes. Children, puppies, it don't matter to him, so long as it makes us sad. Do you understand?
Stan : But then, why does God give us anything to start with?"
Chef : Well, look at it this way: if you want to make a baby cry, first you give it a lollipop. Then you take it away. If you never give it a lollipop to begin with, then you would have nothin' to cry about. That's like God, who gives us life and love and help just so that he can tear it all away and make us cry, so he can drink the sweet milk of our tears. You see, it's our tears, Stan, that give God his great power.
Stan : I think I understand.
West Wing
President Josiah Bartlet: We agree on nothing, Max.
Senator Lobell: Yes, sir.
President Josiah Bartlet: Education, guns, drugs, school prayer, gays, defense spending, taxes - you name it, we disagree.
Senator Lobell: You know why?
President Josiah Bartlet: Because I'm a lily-livered, bleeding-heart
Senator Lobell: Yes, sir. And I'm a gun-toting, redneck son-of-a-bitch
President Josiah Bartlet: Yes, you are.
Senator Lobell: We agree about that.
Cheech & Chong
"I'M SORRY I TOOK THEH MONEH! I'M SORRY I TOOK THEH MONEHH!! AHM SORREH!! AHHHHHM SORREHHHHHH!!!
and what i want to know is
how do you like your blueeyed boy
Mister Death
e.e. cummings
Suzanne takes you down to her place near the river
You can hear the boats go by
You can spend the night beside her
And you know that she's half crazy
But that's why you want to be there
And she feeds you tea and oranges
That come all the way from China
And just when you mean to tell her
That you have no love to give her
Then she gets you on her wavelength
And she lets the river answer
That you've always been her lover
And you want to travel with her
And you want to travel blind
And you know that she will trust you
For you've touched her perfect body with your mind.
And Jesus was a sailor
When he walked upon the water
And he spent a long time watching
From his lonely wooden tower
And when he knew for certain
Only drowning men could see him
He said "All men will be sailors then
Until the sea shall free them"
But he himself was broken
Long before the sky would open
Forsaken, almost human
He sank beneath your wisdom like a stone
And you want to travel with him
And you want to travel blind
And you think maybe you'll trust him
For he's touched your perfect body with his mind.
Now Suzanne takes your hand
And she leads you to the river
She is wearing rags and feathers
From Salvation Army counters
And the sun pours down like honey
On our lady of the harbour
And she shows you where to look
Among the garbage and the flowers
There are heroes in the seaweed
There are children in the morning
They are leaning out for love
And they will lean that way forever
While Suzanne holds the mirror
And you want to travel with her
And you want to travel blind
And you know that you can trust her
For she's touched your perfect body with her mind. Susanne, Leonard Cohen
Flipping through a sketchbook. "Wow, son, these are really good! I didn't know anyone in our family had talent--well, except for that thing your Mom does."
"You mean play piano?"
"No...yeah, son." Silence. "Aw, come 'ere and give me a hug!" Family Guy
"Hell is other people." Sartre.
"Chris! Quit hogging all the fans!"
"Meg! Quit hogging all the UGLY!" Family Guy
"I touched her hand, her hand touched her boob. By the transitive property, I touched her boob! Algebra's awesome!" American Dad
"Francine, this happens every time! First you pull out a gun and threaten to shoot me. Then I pull out my gun. Eventually, your arm gets tired, you leave, and we have passionate "nobody-got-sh
Lois: You should spend some time with our kids, Peter. And with me.
Peter: Uh, what could me and you do together?
(Lois giggles)
Peter: Lois. You've got a sick mind.
Lois: Peter, I'm talking about making love.
Peter: Oh. I thought you wanted us to murder the children and harvest their organs for beer money.
Peter: (trying to console Cleveland at audition for a Bachelor show coming up) Let's get your clothes off.
(takes off Cleveland's shirt and pants)
Cleveland: Peter, what is wrong with you? I'm naked.
Peter: (Peter takes off his shirt and pants too) See, now you're not alone.
Peter Griffin: Huh, I wonder what Scooby and the gang are up to?
(Scooby-Doo theme plays)
TV Announcer: We now return to The Scooby-Doo Murder Files.
Fred: Gee whiz, gang. Looks like the killer gutted the victim, strangled him with his own intestines and then dumped the body in the river.
Velma: Jinkies! What a mystery!
Scooby-Doo: (jumps on Shaggy's arms) Arroo!
Fred: You're right Scoob, we're dealing with one sick son of a bitch!
"Does Wayne Brady have to choke a bitch?" The Chapelle Show
Kid 1: Come on, dude. Just take one hit. Don't you wanna be cool?
Kid 2: (takes drag of joint, make womanly coughing sounds)
Kid 1: Hey, man, what are you doin'?
Kid 2: I'm so high...
(pulling out a rifle)
Kid 2: Nothing can hurt me!
(puts pump-action rifle in mouth and pulls trigger)
Kid 1: (leaping towards him in slow motion) Nooooooooo!
Public Service Announcement: MARIJUANA KILLS!
(Harold & Kumar Go To White Castle)
“What? Are you guys like a couple now?”
“We’re not a couple. No, no. He was squeezing my hand to dominate it, we were attempting to see who has the firmer grip, by cutting off the other’s circulation. What you see is our lips at war, our mouths competing in a feat of strength for victory, our tongues sweatily wrestling against each other. It’s all a competition, not intimacy! And when we go in private, the noises you hear through the door are the sounds of ferocity and combat, not of intense, erotic pleasure. Those moans are moans of sarcasm, and those grunts are biting, breathy retorts against the thundering, Yes! Oh YES! Of my victory.” Dream Sequence.
"Huh. I dunno. I could be a whore. You look like you have fun. That would give me an excuse to have them without getting to know them, but I'd still be selective so...you and you and you and....no....'
Everyone sees what you seem. Only few feel the way you are.
Niccoló Machiavelli
Love is love's reward.
John Dryden
Music is moonlight in the gloomy night of life.
Jean Paul Richter
There is no wealth but life.
John Ruskin
The mass of men lead lives of quiet desperation.
Henry David Thoreau
Footfalls echo in the memory, down the passage which we did not take, towards the door we never opened Into the rose-garden.
T. S. Eliot
But now I have come to believe that the whole world is an enigma, a harmless enigma that is made terrible by our own mad attempt to interpret it as though it had an underlying truth.
Umberto Eco
Life in Song:
Opening song: "Monday Morning" by Silly Wizard & "Yellow Brick Alleyway" by ICP
Waking up: "The Hills Are Alive" from the Sound of Music
Theme Music: "Diamonds and Guns" by the Transplants & "Crazy Faith" by Alison Krauss &
First date: i dun date...i hookup, occassionally
First kiss: "Wallflower Waltz" by KD Lang
Falling in love: "Looking in the Eyes of Love" by Alison Krauss & "Praise Chorus" by Jimmy Eat World
Seeing an old love: "Perfect" by the Smashing Pumpkins
Heartbreak: "Deo Gracias" by Benjamine Britain & "Paranoid Android" by Radiohead
Driving fast: "Sedated" by the Ramones & "Five Pounds of Opposum" by...uh...Roll
Getting ready to go out: "Oh Atlanta" by Alison Krauss
Dancing at a club: "Candy Man" by Aqua
Flirting: "Take Her In Your Arms" by Silly Wizard
Feeling sexy: "Fox On the Run" by Jim and Jesse & "Shake That Thang" by Sean Paul
Walking alone in the rain: "3x5" by John Mayer
Missing someone: "Homies" by ICP
Summer vacation: "Kokomo" by the Beach Boys
Fighting with someone: "Andy You're A Star" by the Killers
Thinking back: "Recovering the Satellites" by Counting Crows
Feeling depressed: "Crash" by Dave Matthews Band & "Mad World" by Gary Jules
Falling asleep: "Ain't Yo Bidness" by ICP
Closing song: "Rain King" by Counting Crows
"What kind of pet store has swingin' jazz music and people from all walks of life at 3 AM?"
"The best damn pet store in town!!!" Simpsons
"This is my simple religion. There is no need for temples; no need for complicated philosophy. Our own brain, our own heart is our temple; the philosophy is kindness." Dalai Lama
"All this worldly wisdom was once the unamiable heresy of some wise man."
Henry David Thoreau
"I'm a godmother, that's a great thing to be, a godmother. She calls me god for short, that's cute, I taught her that." Ellen DeGeneres
"It is not length of life, but depth of life." Ralph Waldo Emerson
"Why not seize the pleasure at once? How often is happiness destroyed by preparation, foolish preparation!"
Jane Austen
"You are the music while the music lasts." T. S. Eliot
An ill response:
"You only want me for my body!"
'Don't be silly. There are plenty of bodies better than yours, and a good half of them open to my disposal."
"Oh, fine! I see how it is. I'm just a quickie, then."
"Well, no, if I wanted you for that, I could have much more variety outside of a steady relationship."
"So I'm boring!"
"No less than individuals are condemned to. You're quite entertaining."
"You're laughing at me."
"Hahaha...I mean...I'm sorry...."
She sleeps and though she sleeps so solid
I sleep against her thinning hope and
she pulls the blankets off
later I am waking, several times each night
and she sits in that same chair, rocking by the window
and it's nothing
nothing but waiting
waiting for an answer
and her antennae are roaming
roam for soft signals from dreams and satellites.
"She won't survive...but then, who does?" --Blade Runner
.and our hearts are in our coffee cans, back home.
She was sitting on the street corner, long ruby nails and chestnut hair pulled back like silk in twine, whipping in the wind. Muslim, she said, that’s what she was. She didn’t understand all the women around her who so easily sold their girlhood. She said she didn’t doubt that no one on the bus was still a girl, while talking to me.
And I looked at her, I knew it was true, but didn’t fear. I said girlhood was a state of mind.
We took the bus in the rain, left the window down, let the sprite gush in like mountain mist, dousing our hair and faces, smiling into it. She caressed the side of the bus, outside fearlessly, as we swished by the other vehicles on the street. She went from laughing to crying in the blink of an eye, when she spoke of home in Chechnya, saying that their English was not the same.
She told me of a boy she loved, who was very far away. He used to laugh at all the girls he used, and tell his friends. He poured his heart out to her in private but changed in the blink of an eye. She tried so many times to tell him that she loved him, smoking with him behind the school. She never kissed him, nor had she ever hugged him, but she dreamt it so well and frequently that she felt she deserved to say she had. Surely their eyes had kissed a million times, even if he did not know!
But she would not be so presumptuous.
She would like to live alone, she said. She was only herself at school and her parents pushed her down into a mold. Her mother brought home stale bread; she had been beaten by her husband and took the children and left to work alone. Now the girl had a step-father who was kinder, took a job in America. She left her Czech boy away with the months behind her, down a dusty stretch of road. He was Asian but he had large jade eyes that they would tease each other about.
“I pretend to hate him…and he pretend to hate me, but I know he really hates me. And I will never tell him that I love him, though I try. He is not pretending. Perhaps pretending to pretend.” He had deflowered most of the girls in the school, used them and laughed. She hated him, yes, but loved him just the same. He poured his soul out to her and then closed it up like a dry flower closing away from butterflies, saving itself for the moths.
She said she had brothers. They were not real brothers. But if a boy at school bothered her, they would beat him, and if he threatened her, they would rape him too. It bothered her that they seemed to like it, but still they were her brothers so she kept them like dogs. The girls at school spoke badly about her, but the boys wanted her so badly. She didn’t not like them. She had only loved one boy who would never have her—she could not wilt like all the other flowers. She was a flytrap.
So she told me all this, on the bus, tears filling her eyes and draining. She chewed a perfect nail, pressed her fingers against her lip and seared into my eyes. How beautiful against the rainlight…and I could only sit in awe. The most poisonous orchid with dark stories to tell, she loathed and envied the rich American girls, and longed for a cigarette but not too badly—she had only smoked to be around her boy. And had only two friends here, who would listen. Benezia.
What's more-- I will forget today. I will forget her.
Our ordinary mind always tries to persuade us that we are nothing but acorns and that our greatest happiness will be to become bigger, fatter, shinier acorns; but that is of interest only to pigs.
Our faith gives us knowledge of something much better:
that we can become oak trees.
(E.F.Schumacher)
*then I get to thinking about it, and maybe we can't decide what sort of trees we will be, if God would have us be another kind, but we can rest assured that we will be the largest and proudest of trees with only our own faith and aspirations*
taken from [notincalifornia]. It's sad, but it's funny......
-If you can't dazzle them with brilliance, riddle them with bullets.
-The dumber people think you are, the more surprised they'll be when you kill them.
-If you can't beat them, arrange to have them beaten.
-If two wrongs don't make a right, try three.
-Two words: Catapulting Teacups.
-That which doesn't kill you... will probably try again.
-Some people say 'if you can't beat them, join them'. I say 'If you can't beat them, beat them', because they will be expecting you to join them, so you will have the element of surprise.
-Your hell is when you dream and I'm awake. . .
*Emmy's not creative in her titles, but her words are oftentimes the best.*
"Hope is the thing with feathers
That perches in the soul,
And sings the tune without the words,
And never stops at all,
And sweetest in the gale is heard;
And sore must be the storm
That could abash the little bird
That kept so many warm.
I've heard it in the chillest land,
And on the strangest sea;
Yet, never, in extremity,
It asked a crumb of me." --Emily Dickenson
I find my nose bleeding as I wake up, thinking dirty thoughts.
an explosive mexican just walked out the door,
denying relation to her mother.
She looks like, "I love you, thanks for not being an asshole like the rest of society." But sometimes I wonder if she just imagines that.
2 hours of sleep and 1 pot of coffee later,
I've OBE'd my way through the night, and scribbled love notes through the nimble of dawn.
Paranoid about my weight, I only eat a kiwi and pack a hot pocket for lunch...kiwi then gets stuck in my teeth, but since the roof of my mouth scalded off with coffee, picking out the kiwi leaves me spitting up blood.
That's okay. So I put on all my make up. New Vogue style, for pale complexions. Downstairs, I'm folding glitter into a Dutch chocolate-scen
Next I'm outside crying blood, 'cause I'm highly allergic to the eye makeup and pollen..waitin
There's a gentleman leaning on the wall in my mind,
spiderless brick towering behind him, he smiles quietly and the walls crumble in Biblical fashion.
I was looking for him, but when I looked up at the bridge, he was walking next to me. I ran up the stairs to meet him, he stumbled and he smiled.
Now I stumble.
Alex promises to show me the Astral plane in a safer place than the locker room. She puts her head on my shoulder like she cares.
The lonely guitarist smiles. He waits after school for me as usual, just to get done talking to my friends. Give me a second, life hurts like hell. That's what he says. I'll be sane again tomorrow. Today we'll be friends. Brushes his lips through my hair, sighing softly.
People come and go. I don't hardly know. He points out my ride, gently grins goodbye. Friends suck me in. Turn around, he's gone, like he was never there.
Eating chocolate and peanut butter cake...
drinking water.....
One of three in aerobics to do 200 sit-ups. Everyone else dropped around 60.
The birds wait on the sidewalk to have their pictures taken, flying like ribbons in the wind to show off brilliant plumes; they'll all look gray anyway.
New camera. New dark room. New life.