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At one point I had an erection and it seemed like we were both trying to undo my belt and unbutton my jeans. I weakly imagined what would happen if my jeans were removed and heard her say “we just met” from what seemed like an enormous distance and felt that I was asleep, or dreaming, or something, while “knowing” I was moving and therefore not asleep.
For the better part of the last year, bloggers have frantically attempted to wring every possible cent from keyword-rich stories covering Sarah Palin, Tiger woods (see above headline for proof), and a dozen other celebrity names coveted like gold in The Often Trifling Age of Pageview Journalism. It’s become a weekly, if not daily, ritual.
The new Xiu Xiu music video “Dear God, I Hate Myself” is kind of like the art-school version of David Letterman’s extramarital confession. Or Lady Gaga for real monsters… It unveils what the mainstream constantly tries to veil: vulnerability, imperfection, and the (often) filthy grit of reality.