Thursday, October 20, 2016
It's No Birthday Present, Cotton, I Smell Deep Dark Trouble
The people have not spoken. Not giving a shit counts as no so ▲ the last Galeano.
Yesterday was Divine's 71st. I watched Pink Flamingos instead of the debate. I win.
The traditional Egoslavian Holy Day birthday post for Divine:
Divine was born seventy-one years ago yesterday. I was fourteen when I first saw Pink Flamingos, twenty-two when Polyester was released. No doubt I'm romanticizing significance, but these movies were buzzworthy once for margins they crossed, or so it seemed to us at the midnight showings. We also enjoyed playing Where the fuck is that in Baltimore? when watching the movies: they remind me of a distinct segment of my life when I was Bawlmer-centric. Plus: what was one outrageous, now so old and tame.
Labels: A Friend Emailed & Asked Me Questions About My Poetry - Let This Be a Warning to All, Brazen Blogwhoring and Attention Sluttery, Fuck Me, Fuck This, My Complicity, My Inability to Shut the Fuck Up