Who Are You?

So who are you?... Taking off your clothes and posing for shots to put up on your myspace for an unmarked amount of people to see? Your bra strap is twisted and the lighting is horrible; these pictures are clearly unprofessional. So what did this photographer promise you? Is it possible he paid you for those shots..... or did you pay him?

So you want to be a talentless naked woman; famous for the ability to take off your clothes. Your goal in life is to be the first naked whore twelve-year-olds jack off to. And you're still looking for a man who respects you for who you are... What the hell is wrong with you?... Don't you have a mother....or, even more so, a grandmother who loves you and could possibly come across these photos?... Don't you have a little brother...or, even more so, an older brother who would be teased mercilessly when his friends catch wind?... Don't you have a boyfriend...or, even more so, an ex-boyfriend who would take one look at your titties hanging out on the internet and grin a wide, proud grin, because you proved him right... But most importantly. Don't you have any fucking self respect? Take naked pictures. Great. Fine. They're fun, they're sexy, they make you feel good about yourself. But when you post them for all to see, that proves you to be a narcissistic attention whore, with no respect for your body, your self, or the people who love you.... and it only gives fuel for those who love to hate. God you make me sick.

Say 'Cheese'

What's going to make you smile today? Is there anything at all, convincingly real? Something other than a television show, that lets you laugh with people who don't exist... Something other than a memory of your own life. That feeling is real... but not in the immediate way it should be. I wish I could make you smile today. I wish you would respond to me, and we would laugh, and make a memory for a day like this in the future. I suppose that you don't miss me like I miss you. I don't guess there's anything I can do about that. And if you're content with smiling on your own, then I'm happy at least one of us is.

#4

Well... the Rolling Stone entry form was all sorts of fucked up, so I didn't get my entry for this week in. But I wrote it, so I might as well share. Tell me this wouldn't be the sickest concert:

Picture Randall’s Island, located in the East River, outside of Manhattan, New York, filled with music lovers of all ages. Welcoming the Summer Solstice, the fans are gathered with tents, coolers and sunscreen for three days of music. The first day includes Bedouin Soundclash, Rx Bandits and 311. Incubus closes the first night. The second day includes Action Action, Long Beach Short Bus and Queens of the Stone Age. Audioslave closes the second night. The final day starts off with Gruvis Malt, Kings of Leon and The Raconteurs. The Red Hot Chili Peppers end the show, but not before all of the bands that can fit up there on stage start banging away to The Beatles’ “Hey Jude.”

Awesome as it stands, this isn’t any old straightforward Rock n’ Roll show. The fans and bands are gathered for The Tribute among Friends, a three-day festival promoting unity and harmony through music. The artists don’t only talk the talk… they also sing the song.

At Tribute, the band onstage pays respect to other bands playing the festival. How does this happen? When Incubus takes the stage, they don’t only play their hits such as “Wish You Were Here” and “Pardon Me.” They play Audioslave’s “Like a Stone,” 311’s “Beautiful Disaster” and The Chili Pepper’s “Blood Sugar Sex Magik.” Audioslave plays Incubus’ “Make Yourself” and QOTSA’s “Do It Again.” And it just might happen that when The Chili Peppers are covering Audioslave’s “Cochise,” Tom Morello jumps out on stage to tear up the guitar solo. So it goes: Rock n’ Roll idols paying Tribute to their contemporaries. Unity in its most rockin’ form.

Consequence.

Holding me close with your consequence.
Letting go with a new pretense.
Finding solace without sense.
I am your only (vapid) defense.

Trapped in a room that is round and secure.
Gliding in circles with me in the core.
Stopped in your tracks when you find me no more.
Where will you run at the end of the war?

Lost and unveiled; confused and derailed—
Set up for success to realize you’ve failed.
Lost and confused; wasted and used—
And now you refuse a new path to choose.

Idly focused on none but the past.
Faintly aghast that the cycle won’t last.
What will you do without me in your grasp?
Feel me just once, for you’re falling quite fast.

Who is to blame for this decadent swirl:
The cold-hearted boy or the weak-minded girl?
Is it a fault that their past must unfurl
Into two separate lives, in two disparate worlds?

Speak nothing of love and know nothing of fate.
Dependence and apathy surely negate.
At one point or another the other won’t wait,
And the other, the lover, will all but relate.