Cue the lights! Queue/cue the music. I recommend looping the light (right click for the option).
Because, love's mysteries &(stuck in my head now)in the pocket of my blue jeans. Thanks, Ray!
"BABY GOT BACK" BUTT(ON): HEREBY, IT HAS BEEN
ACKNOWLEDGED AND RELEASED
THAT GUYS SANG THIS TO ME ABOUT MY BODY (THEIR CHOICE)
The results are in!!! In no particular order:
RIGHT BACK POCKET CONTENTS OF TEENAGE-SELF'S (TIME-TRAVELING) LEVI'S 501 JEANS (seen, sort of, briefly, through the lens of the sacred/profane)
1996-1997 is the one being channeled here.
Other artifacts offer a snapshot of the state of mind of the subject in question, as she was, within the aforementioned timeframe.
In the right-center of the collage at the bottom of the survey above is a spiral of three photographs of the subject (she's the one with her eyes closed, and the one above, and the one above that one).
She's more than meets the eye & come see
the other side.
Think 'complex' daydreams--&
things aren't always what they seem.
In fact, the very thought of rejection--
the humiliation--makes her
want to die.
She dreams it were otherwise, of being
a beautiful woman
EASY DAYS, EASY NIGHTS, silk
skirt with belt, $200 CASUAL NOIR.
Meanwhile, nowhereman replaces God.
Love is lost, found, dangerous.
Don't mean that in, like, a woe-is-me I'm super-serious sort of way, FWIW--rather, more as a pun of sorts.
She's/I'm still looking for her/myself.
It's been a long night--either way, until we meet again...
â(I'd get all literary and allude--Parting is such sweet sorrow--but that doesn't feel quite right to me.)
P.S. For the record, there might've just been an earthquake (literally). If there was one, I'm the first to say I felt it!
P.P.S. For fun (pretend I'm King now, singing):
P.P.P.S. There wasn't an earthquake.