Have you ever heard something more beautiful ?
Isn’t the view beautiful? It takes my breath away. Well, it would if I had any. Emily
another version of Tim’s Hallelujah? yes please!
Son of a bitch, he stole my line.
you always have the one song you have to get back to again and again…
Henry Rollins: What do you hope to be your lasting significance?
Marilyn Manson: I’ve always thought about that and the easy answer was always, “As long as I’m remembered,” but that’s not really what I believe at the end of the day. As a writer, whether I’m writing songs or writing books or even saying what I believe in a painting, whatever, I just want to be thought of as someone who took the time and risked what they stand for, risked their lives to put that out into the world. Someone who ultimately was an artist. I’d like to actually be able to…I don’t feel uncomfortable saying that, but I remember growing up, saying you’re an artist it sounds pretentious but now it’s one of the only dignified things that you can call yourself.
We need more people like him. Seriously. (Also his voice! ungh.)
I have done it again.
One year in every ten
I manage it—
A sort of walking miracle, my skin
Bright as a Nazi lampshade,
My right foot
My face a featureless, fine
Peel off the napkin
O my enemy.
Do I terrify?—
The nose, the eye pits, the full set of teeth?
The sour breath
Will vanish in a day.
Soon, soon the flesh
The grave cave ate will be
At home on me
And I a smiling woman.
I am only thirty.
And like the cat I have nine times to die.
This is Number Three.
What a trash
To annihilate each decade.
What a million filaments.
The peanut-crunching crowd
Shoves in to see
Them unwrap me hand and foot—
The big strip tease.
These are my hands
I may be skin and bone,
Nevertheless, I am the same, identical woman.
The first time it happened I was ten.
It was an accident.
The second time I meant
To last it out and not come back at all.
I rocked shut
As a seashell.
They had to call and call
And pick the worms off me like sticky pearls.
Is an art, like everything else.
I do it exceptionally well.
I do it so it feels like hell.
I do it so it feels real.
I guess you could say I’ve a call.
It’s easy enough to do it in a cell.
It’s easy enough to do it and stay put.
It’s the theatrical
Comeback in broad day
To the same place, the same face, the same brute
That knocks me out.
There is a charge
For the eyeing of my scars, there is a charge
For the hearing of my heart—
It really goes.
And there is a charge, a very large charge
For a word or a touch
Or a bit of blood
Or a piece of my hair or my clothes.
So, so, Herr Doktor.
So, Herr Enemy.
I am your opus,
I am your valuable,
The pure gold baby
That melts to a shriek.
I turn and burn.
Do not think I underestimate your great concern.
You poke and stir.
Flesh, bone, there is nothing there—
A cake of soap,
A wedding ring,
A gold filling.
Herr God, Herr Lucifer
Out of the ash
I rise with my red hair
And I eat men like air.
(Lady Lazarus - Sylvia Plath)
OH MY GOD. YOU ALL NEED TO WATCH THIS.
OHMYGODIAMFUCKINGDYING. THAT WAS AMAZING.
OH MY GOD.
OH MY GOD.
HOW DID I NOT SEE IT. HOLY SHIT.
well played, well played
Kyle: Look! Look at it!!! That’s Rachael! And that’s a fucking dirty Jesus looking motherfucker, and they’re kissing! I did it! I FUCKING NAILED YOU!!! I’ve hated you for months! And now I have evidence that you suck as a person!
If you eat it, you’ll turn into one of them.
You go red, you start spouting bigotry and eating tweed with lamb fat dribbling down your chin.
Dylan Moran on the country. (Like Totally, 2006)