hips like cindarella

must be havin that good shame

talkin sweet about nothin

cookie i think you're TAME



i'm listening to the pixies. they're among my faves, so you know i'm feeling good.

i'd like to live in the pixies' california. those white washed video backgrounds and loud guitars seem like home to me. i want a fucked-up frank black expression on my face. i want to feel like a foreigner in my own country and sing about dirty fucks with all kinds of spanish words thrown in.

in a pixies's california i'd wear a pink bandana and point a sawed-off shotgun as my whores gathered round, awestruck as i proclaimed this is it, "this is how it ends, daddy-o," and fired two shots into the horizon.

and the cameras would roll...

and the pan would flash,

against the desert sky.


and so is kinki.

and so is

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