|my limp penis
||[Nov. 26th, 2006|01:14 am]
Spinning 45 Ballerina
|||||fad gadget-wheels of fortune||]|
I remember when I felt wonderful about my record collection, or should I say record "erection". Those where great times...
I met an acquaintance on the bus today, a guy that for some reason always makes judgements on who he thinks I am. Astoundingly accurate judgements, or just astoundingly cliché ones… I’m not really sure witch. He didn’t believe me when I told him that I used to feel my invisible penis growing alongside my heap of classy vinyl’s. I’m thinking his sentiment was that I was just using a sort of banal imagery because ‘that’s what boys supposedly are meant to feel when acquiring object of status‘. Well that’s exactly how collecting makes me feel by the way! For most girls I’m guessing that high healed shoes are what does it (cuz they do it for me too), but when it comes right down to it I can’t walk in heals, I‘m insanely tall as it is and even really expensive vinyl’s are cheaper than nice shoes. -Always practical
Cuz i went to the big vinyl thing today: I bought a Sex Gang Children 7”, I don’t really like them, it’s not that there bad, there just not great… (I don’t like music just because the band has good hair and it’s what I’m suppose to like (=G.O.T.H-the dirty word), and I feel good about that -evil grin). I really bought it for the Christian Death b-side. Am hoping it’s not fucking Valor on there. The picture on it is of Rozz and it’s from 1992 so the real thing was out there… so…sooou… so: there’s probably nothing to worry about. Anyways I guess I won‘t find out yet, don‘t want to put it on just now. I’m having to good of a time listening to Pink Grease. “I want you’re fingers inside this song” -now there you have some lyrics that make me wish I more than just my invisible penis hanging around, want something a little bit more potent -ah, sexual frustration
On the other hand the encounter on the buss made my half subdued “man hate” bubble up again. He’s supposed to be one of the good guys and everybody thinks he is, but when he talks to me it’s like he thinks I’m an idiot. He argues with every little thing I say.
“No I don’t believe you do have an invisible penis, Karina”.
Well of course I don’t, retard.
“Are you sure you rally have real tinituss?”
“No, come to think about it I’m not sure, what do you think? Maybe there’s a jet engine in my head, and maybe that bliping noise is just my brain getting a text message” -she said sarcastically
I can’t remember what ells he said, but It was like it was physically impossible for him to agree with me on anything, and it was just smalltalk, for fucks sake. It’s not like I was being particularly impossible either, like I well can be on occasion. I think he just sees me as a vary opinionated girl and for reason he can't allow me to stay that way.
Why do boys think that girls are stupid, and why do girls let them talk down to them?
blah blah -I've been wronged
I also bought myself a 1984 Joy Division bootleg, it’s called “a retrospective on the vinyl pain and pleasure of joy division”, was too expensive, and not much of anything really. I was on the look out for one though so I guess I brought home the bacon. Wish I had found this EP though: (+A pict of the one I got next to it):
I know someone who has the fist one, if I don’t ever find my own I think I’ll steal there’s, move to Switzerland and live happily ever after. Never had JD-bootleg before. Still there’s not much point in just having one, I need a million more. My records seldom get any new playmates these days, and that’s a good thing, I’m sure. I miss my potent collecting penis but, blah. I don’t know what I’m saying. I guess I’m glad I’ve almost stopped haemorrhaging my money out on round silly things that make noise. Kind off.
Fad Gadets really great btw...
I guess my ramblings have come to an end.
For now! -mohaha