I stopped drinking, and taking Xanax, so I'm having trouble sleeping. So here are some disjointed thoughts from my insomniac brain.
Essential oils aren't essential to anyone. Even a hippy could live without patchouli. The only thing an essential oil is essential to is the thing they wring it out of to sell it to hippies. So ha ha on all the patchouli loving hippies out there funding an entire industry of patchouli killers. You suck out their essence to rub on the unwashed and then the patchoulies all die! Really, wouldn't a Lady Speed Stick be better for everyone?
WTF is a patchouli, anyway? I know what it smells like, but not what it is. And for the record, it smells like a Big Lebowski fan, that's what it smells like.
Why is it that you can drink as much as you want if you never want to drink again but you have to stop drinking in order to retain your capacity to drink? And also, why is it perfectly okay to have a couple glasses of wine after a hard day, but not to drink an equal number of beers, for women anyway?
Showing posts with label random thoughts. Show all posts
Showing posts with label random thoughts. Show all posts
Thursday, May 17, 2012
Monday, January 09, 2012
A late-night pondering
Kurt Cobain. John Lennon. Hendrix. Joplin. Jim Morrison.
I saw a documentary on Lemmy a couple months ago. The man still lives in a little apartment on the Sunset Strip, and hangs out at a local bar playing video poker. Fame hasn't changed him (although it did apparently take him out of England). He hasn't gotten any face lifts or put his face on video games. He;s the same guy he was when he started Motorhead. I can't help but compare Lemmy, in my mind, to Gene Simmons, the great capitalist willing to sell out for any product placement as long as it gives him a profit, and Steven Tyler now judging reality shows.
If Cobain, Lennon, Hendrix, Joplin, and Morrison had lived, I wonder if they'd be Lemmys or if they'd go the other way, capitalizing on their youth. Or worse, would they be Elvis, slaves to vice and indulgence, fat and sweaty on a Vegas stage trying to relive the glory days? Where does success stop, become enough, or where does it get replaced with greed and aimless ambition?
I saw a documentary on Lemmy a couple months ago. The man still lives in a little apartment on the Sunset Strip, and hangs out at a local bar playing video poker. Fame hasn't changed him (although it did apparently take him out of England). He hasn't gotten any face lifts or put his face on video games. He;s the same guy he was when he started Motorhead. I can't help but compare Lemmy, in my mind, to Gene Simmons, the great capitalist willing to sell out for any product placement as long as it gives him a profit, and Steven Tyler now judging reality shows.
If Cobain, Lennon, Hendrix, Joplin, and Morrison had lived, I wonder if they'd be Lemmys or if they'd go the other way, capitalizing on their youth. Or worse, would they be Elvis, slaves to vice and indulgence, fat and sweaty on a Vegas stage trying to relive the glory days? Where does success stop, become enough, or where does it get replaced with greed and aimless ambition?
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