Nothing but one thing in life
Nature knows nothing of kind
Her cruelty wears no disguise
Do what you must just to survive
Foreign to most
Fleeting if granted at all
Breath in the lungs
Veins filled with blood
It's all that is granted for some
Comfort is nothing less than a privilege
No one is entitled to thrive
Survival is not a right
Each day you open your eyes
It should only serve to remind you that survival is not a right
Thursday, April 15, 2010
I don't even like KISS, but have you ever thought about how much Peter Criss' makeup sucks in comparison to the makeup worn by the rest of the band?
Gene Simmons obviously has the coolest makeup; I think he's supposed to be a demon. Ace Frehley is supposed to be a spaceman or something. Paul Stanley has a star over his eye—which, come to think of it, is pretty lame too—but really, Peter Criss, is made up to look like a less than enthusiastic house-cat.
Frankly, I'm just baffled at how Mr. Criss settled upon his look. If I'm sitting in a room, brainstorming ideas for cool costumes, and my friends are throwing out ideas like wearing leather batwings, fire breathing, spitting blood and wearing spiked plates of armor, I'm sure as fuck not going to follow up with, "hey guys, how about I dress up like an especially tame looking cat?"
Monday, April 12, 2010
Today is my friend, Sammy Winston's birthday. He's a writer, a musician, an artist, devoted husband and a loving father to two kitty cats. He does a bunch of cool shit that you should be aware of: