The single grainy black and white photo of Marianne, half obscured by her own shadow, bestows her with beauty, for she is nothing more than an idea of what she is, a personal vessel of fantasy.
In which this contributor self-diagnoses and conceptualizes his psychological paradigm in effort to acclimate his new therapist, whose task may be somewhat ponderous.
An erotic one-act pantomime play from which carnal knowledge is got, with digressive phallic metaphor and symbolic patricide.
Man’s best friend, and his non-sentient lover, are more similar than one would think, subtleties clarified herein for this unnecessary problem. For the purposes of narrative, our real doll and real dog have been named Rosie and Baxter, respectively.
The following are abrasive rhetorical questions concerning this Depressive’s anatomy and sexual prowess, asked sarcastically at his formspring account, slightly edited for formality.
Necessity was the mother of invention, now consumerism is. A recent trip to Bed Bath & Beyond overwhelmed me so much, I did some subsequent research and have compiled the ultimate guide to bedding.
The writer of this article is suffering from allergies, and has blown his nose into the same paper napkin 4 – 5 times, depositing more mucous than napkin was designed to handle. The setting western sun throws itself as some intimate cosmic slut onto two people before me.
In the late 20th century, perhaps as existential concession to the futility of remaining attractive after marriage, and in part due to the late capitalist compulsion to buy crap indiscriminately, something awful happened known as Mom Jeans.
Jared Leto has played Kurt Cobain, rather well I admit, actually singing “Pennyroyal Tea,” resulting in a quick google yield that presented me with Leto’s band 30 Seconds to Mars, as I was not aware the dude could sing. Yes, pop gets confusing and incestuous after a while. Too many creative freaks inside the kiddy pool.
These funny looking eyes adorning our most heralded sex icons and female celebrities are so enjoyable, surreal, and uncanny — exposing the artifice of their sheen into some internal sleep-deprived struggle, as portrayed by these sunken post-manic Buscemi eyes.