Saturday, November 19, 2011

word salad

While I was in the shower, I came up with the idea for this entry: put my iTunes on shuffle and type the first line or two of the first 25 songs that came up, just to see if they formed some sort of cool poem.

Well, as it turns out, not so much, but if you're really into music and/or want to waste a lot of time Googling, you can get a pretty good idea of what kind of songs I have on my computer. Excitorama!

Fuck me, I'm famous
I'm so hot for her, I'm so hot for her, I'm so hot for her
Open the door, walk in behind her
Now I, I don't hardly know her
When I was a little girl I had a rag doll
I've waited hours for this, never felt so sick
Out on the wily windy moors we'd roll and fall in green
So sentimental, not sentimental no
And here's to you, Mrs. Robinson, Jesus loves you more than you will know
We're miles away from nowhere and the wind doesn't have a name
Uh zoom zip and I wake up
Here is London, giddy London, is it home of the free or what?
Shangri-la, shiowase datte
My friend Jerry Vandergriff kissed me in home ec class
Christine and Sharon are sure you can deadbolt the doors but the outside gets in at the edges of the windows and floors
Fire burn my lips take a swig for old time's sake
Push it in make it fit on the floor peek-a-boo
Yeah when I walk on by girls be looking like damn he fly
Regular exposure to insecticide has caused me to break out in hives
Zoo time is she and you time the mammals are your favorite type and you want her tonight
She cuts her hair and calls his name
He's not falling, simply waiting fading at the edges
She doesn't speak much English but she tells me all her favorite bands
See them on their big bright screen tan and blonde and 17
This isn't really sex this isn't really life this isn't really anything I think I like