See You On The Other Side

See You On The Other Side
by Trey Campbell

I know I'll surely spend this whole life figuring
Out how to do things right, how to care
About somebody other than myself
Just in the nick of time to show Death
That I understand what it means to Love
As he whisks me away gracefully.
And I'll accept
For by that point so far off
I will walk alone, the errs of my youth
Eternally damning me to my own
Inflated megalomania.
Worry not for me, family, friends, lovers.
For I will See You On The Other Side
A man reborn, the phoenix arising
From the ashy, unrecognizable remains
Of where once walked a man naive.
Embrace me with open arms
As mine will already have risen for you
And by then I'll say with confidence
That I know how to care.
That I know how to be yours.
And not a moment sooner.
Eternity,
Is a very long time.

This poem was inspired by the BT song of the same name, "See You On The Other Side." As I listened to the magnum opus of this phenomenal ambient electronic artist's 14 minute serenade, I fell into a deeper state of being, candid in comparison to my everyday thoughts. I'm still pondering over the lines, searching for meaning, but perhaps, like I have already said, I'll figure it out at the very end.

Extremes

Personally, I find that living life in a more polar mentality always yields more satisfying results. I know that people say "everything in moderation" and how the best life lived is one of balanced proportions. I just don't know. I like to give everything my all or nothing. 100% or forget about it. If I care enough about something, I'll put all of my efforts into being fiercely loyal to that endeavor. If I'm half-assing it and just being lazy, I probably don't really believe strongly about it. I also strongly feel like many others feel the same way as I do. All of our emotions should be "all or nothing." You wouldn't go love somebody 50% or in moderation. When you're sad about something, it isn't like you cry 5 tears and say, "ok, if I cry any more than that I'm going to be too extreme." The point I'm making is that despite the fact that I sometimes sense my life missing some balance, if I were to keel over and die at this very moment, I could say that I lived a pretty damn good life. I have been in love, and lost it. I've seen new life come into the world, and both the young and old, strangers and friends alike, leave it in all manners. I've seen people go down fighting, and also unjustly. I've experienced most emotions, and experimented into dangerous territories. I have some of the best friends in the world, despite that you think yours are better. They might be good, but I would bet anything on my crew. Why would you want to live a life of safety and mediocrity, only to fade into a sort of generic remembrance, where your remaining legacy will be the epitaph upon your grave? I'd much rather go out, get into some trouble, burn a few bridges, make a name for myself and do something that people will think to themselves and say, "Wow. Trey really lived." Feel free to share your opinions in the comments, let me know that what I'm saying is complete bullshit or perhaps that I convinced you to pack your bags and become an opium dealer in the Himalayas for the next 10 years. I'd love to hear it.

Late Night Poetry Sesh

Write My End

by Trey Campbell

I walk a glass prison

And I want to reach out

To what lies beyond.

In this case alone

The grass is greener,

Or is it the glass

I peer out from?

I know what exists outside,

Yet I choose entrapment

Within these transparent walls.

My mind is a labyrinth

Without a solution

For I forge my own path

Breaking the rules

As I see necessary.

I am both Daedalus

The cunning artificer

And Theseus

Possessing blind bravery

So where are you, Ariadne

Icarus, Minotaur?

The story is not complete

Though we can adapt

For it is not their story

But our own. 

What are you waiting for?

Write my end.

Suspension

Song of the moment: Bonobo - Black Sands

Suspension
by Trey Campbell

The misshapen branches silhouetted
Against a frigid still-frame beyond
The yellow and blue of late afternoon
And of early Winter's dark yearning.
While these brick walls protect me
From the cold that lies beyond
I sit alone for the first time in weeks.
Truly alone, in the most healthy way.
A long time coming, my frantic life
Paces itself down to that of
The misshapen branches silhouetted
As my frigid, still frame looks on.

Feel It In My Bones

Song of the Moment: Tiesto - Feel It In My Bones

Well, world. I'm feeling rather motivated. Even a little borderline cocky. I've been working on law school applications, despite my general disinterest in pursuing it over a life of fame and infamy in the form of being an important canonical author of the 21st century. I've got the world in my hands and I don't feel as though I have any limitations. There are no real ties holding me down and the sky is the limit. It is refreshing knowing I can forge my future, do what I want and not have to worry about any real repercussions for my actions, for now anyways. Maybe on Tuesday I'll change my mind and get worried. Therein lies the beauty of youth. Worlds come and go and change at the drop of a hat. Single conversations act like icebergs, singing the unsinkable, leaving behind hundred to the frigid unforgiving depths of the winter ocean. But for now, I'm looking at the sun rising each next morning. It is almost like feeling invincible. I even took on the task of a complete website redesign tonight. I always seem to stretch myself thin, but if I'm not testing my limits, then I'm not really living. I might as well try to hit every extreme imaginable. And with an imagination as warped and potential ridden as my own, I feel like I'm crafting the ground I put each foot down on each day. No need to rest after six days, because there is surely some way I can further my goals on day seven. OK, I'm ego checking myself now, for my own good and to keep you from thinking that I'm having delusions of grandeur. Don't worry about me though. I'm not going to let myself fail. You're reading my writing here, but hopefully someday, when you, my faithful readership, have your respective families and lives and careers on all parts of the world, you come across something written about me. That would really bring a smile to my face. I would know, for certain, what I'm anticipating so heavily in this post. Go ahead and call me the next Kanye West, being so arrogant and boldly stating it to the world. It is OK. There is no such thing as bad publicity. I'll deal with each problem as they happen, one at a time, because that is how success is made. Never giving up. For to accept defeat either means you've learned something new, which may mean a loss of a battle, but the war persistently wages onward, or else, it means you didn't try hard enough. There is no way to be considered a loser if you gave it 100%, and then some. Just know that your mind is your greatest friend and your greatest enemy. The emotions you experience can draw you down into the murky depths of self-doubt, a place which in no way will help you grow. Conversely, the bounds of your mind also dictate the pace at which you further your achievements. That's all for now. Expect some poetry next post.

TC

A Sermon of Words

I've been considering how far sheer determination can go. At an author reading following the Hopwood Writing Awards two years ago, Tobias Wolff told me the single best piece of writing advice one can possess is the ability to persevere. To write everyday. To write through the shit, the good and bad, because there will be days when the writing is bad. Because, the success of an author is not who gets the lucky break, but rather who develops their repertoire enough. It is one instance in which determination outweighs raw talent. I'd like to say I have a little bit of both working in my favor. Maybe not that much talent, but if I can convince a crowd of a personal belief or that a story is accurate, I've done my task. There is nothing more rewarding than planting an idea in the head of another. It reminds me of the summer blockbuster, Inception. It is a dangerous trait to be able to use the power of suggestion and planting thoughts to alter the complete happenings of an individual. To either undermine or reinforce that which they wholeheartedly believe. I vouch that it was not my English, nor Greek nor humanities, arts, sciences or other various credits that made college worthwhile. It was the relationships. The people who walked in and out of my life these past four years. It is the worst they had to offer or the best they could possibly give. The heartbreaks and the turmoil, but also, the nights I dragged on all of too long. It was in the moments that shouldn't have happened were it not for a perceptive and observant grouping of minds. My friends are some of the best out there. I'm lucky for that. I'm lucky for my enemies and rivals too. If it weren't for you guys, there is no way I'd be as strong as I am now. Yes, yes, I'm very certain it all sounds so cliched. In some ways it does, but that is just because each person must draw such conclusions. It happens at different points in each individual's life. For me, it took all of high school and the greater majority of my college years. I now know the value of friendship, trust, love. I know who is real and how to detect that. I am aware of how to shape my words into a calming hypnosis-inducing trance of sentences, floating down a gentle stream like that of a water lily. It is an ambitious ability and one that should not be taken lightly. I've hurt many people saying too much of the right stuff. Likewise, I've tried to rescue people from themselves. You can't. No matter how hard you think an individual can be changed, I've just found it to be a futile waste of everybody's time. With that territory comes drama and many many long nights. Irrational thoughts and soundless arguments. The key is in finding the balance, between saying what is right and what may hurt somebody. Sometimes they are the same. Sometimes, you have to tell a lie. Always, you should do what you feel is right. At no compromise. If you believe you are right, you probably are. One way or another, the ever shifting world will calibrate to your actions. OK, I'm done preaching now. Just understand the power of a promise, the way words can be more beautiful than Adonis or Hera or any action. Don't abuse such potential. OK, now I'm really done preaching.

Strange Happenings

Have you ever noticed a particular name or finding to come up over and over again? I'm experiencing a strange sort of varient of deja-vu. Basically, today I came across an author I've loved for some time--John Irving. What a fantastic author. However, today I was perusing the book cases at my office where there was a book by Irving, "Widow for a Year." It piqued my interest because I hadn't run across his name since the connection between Jimmy Eat World's song "Goodbye Sky Harbor" and the book "A Prayer for Owen Meany," to which the song draws it's climactic inspiration. The name stuck out in my head so I read a little bit more on Mr. Irving. It seems as though he is famous for several pieces, including The Cider House Rules, which, believe it or not, my friend was watching this morning when I was chatting with her. It was 2 occurrences in 1 day. To further stupefy my curious brain, I was on Facebook and saw my cousin had a status about his dog getting bit while on a walk. His friend, Topher, decided to link my cousin to a paragraph from an Irving book titled, "Last Night in Twisted River." The part of the book he referenced was about dog attacks. I was beginning to find myself very weirded out by all of these references in such a short timespan. Perhaps Irving himself was channeling me. I take these matters very seriously and it seems as though what we view as coincidences often compile on one another. If my thoughts seem scrambled and not conveyed that well in this post, my apologies. I just wanted to get it out on paper, I'll do you all a favor and reflect on this writing later when I have a more clear mind and some hindsight. It'll sound a lot better, promise!

TC

Enlightened.

My deepest apologies for nearly a week off the grid. I have been both overwhelmed and under the weather. It all stemmed from an amazing weekend of nearly nonstop raving. Having seen Pretty Lights Friday night, and a 9 hour Detroit warehouse rave on Saturday, I wore down my body to the point of pure exhaustion. It was quite an accomplishment, as I'm always testing the boundaries of what I am capable of. However, it is a dangerous territory in which I delve, as I always take my achieved limitations to mean that I can now go one step further up the ladder rung of physical capability.

I've since enjoyed many long hours of sleep, as my body has locked me out and reduced me to a near-hibernatory state-of-being. Towards the end of it all, I was having some ridiculous hallucinations and dreams. I was falling asleep on the whim, enjoying what several 8-minute naps I could knock out between classes or before work. In that place of extreme existence, I felt so close to a parallel world. The kind of place that coexists but is just out of our mind's grasp. There is much out there that I feel we cannot possibly be aware of, for either a lack of desire to know, or perhaps an inability to comprehend the full extent of this alternate realm. In that exhaustion though, I felt it. The presence was there, and though I was at the end of the rope, I never felt more alive in my life. The things I was seeing, the way I perceived the world around me, it all seemed so trivial in comparison to the plethora of knowledge that existed around me. In the ultimate quest for self-awareness, I began to understand just how minute our roles in the world ultimately are. I considered the triviality of our everyday occurrences, and how we create such drama over the minuscule lives we live. As we become enlightened to the true aura of what is around us, our places in both space and time and how our kindred spirits seek out one another to pass on our troves of knowledge, I began to see like I never quite had before.

It was a matter of going to the edge of the world. Surely anyone can live in the comfort of the bubble around them. In that safety comes sanctity. But for those who wander outside these constructs, there exists a much more invigorating place. The kind of world that tests the bounds of both our imaginations and bodies. Yes, it is one of far graver danger and yes, it is not a place for everybody. It takes a sound mind and the strength of others to support oneself, yet I wholeheartedly believe in this mystical and ethereal place, I belong. I belong to the world outside the conformities of the system, in a place where I can use my gifts of speechcraft and storytelling to help others open their eyes. I will surely fail some, but for each successful being comes an empowering wave of furthering our own meanings in the universe. That is, helping mankind in an ultimate quest to understand, for that is what we all seek, no?

This is the first time I've tried writing about such an inspiring event in my life. I've known of its existence for some time, though I've always believed in my inevitable failure to depict it accurately. I'm fully aware of the ambiguity of such writing, and while some of you will finish this piece believing me to be bat-shit crazy, I want you to know that crazy is merely a different perception of the world in which we live. I do not believe in polar opposites. There is no good and evil, nor right and wrong or else crazy and sane. We live in a world that is painted in shades of grey--for all possess both good and evil, the ability to make decisions and bear the consequences of their actions, and most certainly possess the potential to innately make insanely rational decisions. If you at all should like to consider further with me the deeper roots which feed the source of my latest revelations, please leave your comments below or else, if a friend, you know how to get in touch with me.

Midwest Skies

After a quick nap during class today, I found myself walking across campus, taking in the scenery around me. It was a muted, beautiful silence. As though somebody had turned down the volume on the urbanesque noises. There were no car engines, loud conversations or even the sound of the gentle breeze. It was gorgeous outside, the sun dropping behind the facades of buildings designed to further my ability to communicate this scene to you.

The skies above were royal in the sort of way you'd expect a gospel to describe. A true kingdom looming over our mundane daily tasks. How many around me wouldn't think twice about what I weighed so heavily upon? I continued my walk, juggling my own phone calls and miscellany, all the while preoccupied with the majestic painting forged by the twilight sun.

I tried to contemplate how unfeasible it would be for man to create such a color. An impossible mixture of pinks, purples, blues, oranges and whites. Nature's Architect alone knew the secret formula that was silently melting me. I took dozens of photographs, though pictures never seem to replicate the power of the human eye. While a picture may be worth a thousand words (putting my posts word count through the roof!), the vivid memories of such moments cannot be assigned an adequate value.

I continued my walk until I came upon the scene posted above. It was beautiful as the creatures of the air above me gracefully proceeded. The remains of industry scared the portrait, as plane exhaust became saturated with the vivid colors. Birds overhead flew by the thousands, weaving in and out of one another in a chaotic, yet beautiful formation.  They seemed to move in slow motion as my eyes wandered, darting around just as much as the aviators heading in the opposite direction. The cool air felt refreshing against my skin. I cherished the end of the sunset, as the masterpiece gave way to night, like the artist erasing the canvas to start afresh the following morning.

Kicking It Old School

I received a beautiful pen for my birthday today. Here is what it inspired me to write:

The Blind Watchmaker

by Trey Campbell

He tinkers in the dim light,
An unnecessary precaution for him
As the immortal day gives way
To the causal night
Meticulously testing gears
And sprockets, the finer pieces of life
He scoffs at the idea of a social construct
But romanticizes the spinning cogs
Relentless in their eternal motion
Perpetual, constant, assuring
The mantras of the blind watchmaker
As he works by the sounds of ticks and tocks
While time passes
And he produces clocks
So that the world may turn like watch hands.

Light

In a world where man finds himself so caught up worshipping the blinking satellites above, relaying their precious data seamlessly as fast as the speed of said blinking light itself, it is important to remember the celestial bodies that so often are obscured, either by the manmade monoliths of the big city or else by the encompassing power of man to occupy his mind elsewhere. The sun, Sol, invigorating and revitalizing the senses that are desensitized by the day-in and day-out of the everyday world. Or perhaps the lunar beauty that acts as its foil once the sun has completed its daily task. The distant Venus, seductively far away and yet the sister planet to our own strange world. As with all entities in the world, both good and bad arrise from these objects. The sun, with the ability to lift spirits, elicit chemical responses within the human body, and darken our delicate skin also possesses the power to unleash immense radioactive flares, grow cancer within our feeble bodies and burn us for getting greedy. And the moon, a silent beauty that observes the night from above. It is the core of Romanticism and what it embodies. A requited, tragic sort of love, where moon light so often illuminated the discreet meetings of star-crossed lovers. Consequently, the moon, while illuminating such deep emotion, also shines a spotlight on the wicked corners of night. The burglars and vagrant rapists who skew the alleyways and cracked, empty parking lots.

As the ancient Greeks knew better than any, and a wise piece of historic advice that has found itself ringing in my ears again and again, all in moderation. With a balance of the sun, the moon, the starry bodies and artificial creations of human innovation, a success can be achieved. The kind of success that fills, not the pockets, but rather the soul. So to anyone who may come across this without enough time in the average day-to-day, find a few minutes to step outside. Whether it be the heat of the afternoon or the latest hour, take in some light, for it is always available in some form. Feel its potential, as it empowers our vision and also our curious and wandering minds.

TC

Revolving Door

by Trey Campbell

Gone are the days when war was romantic
Gone are the days of unsolved mysteries
In its place computers and cord
Furiously entangling the world
Constricting what was once natural
And beautiful. A necessary evil.
Look forward though and not back
For in that romance was great horror
And uncertainty.
The Age of Knowledge is upon us
Yet while knowledge empowers,
Knowledge may still be too much
Unwanted, for the simple-minded.
Those who need not virtual access
To the billions amongst us.
Their fingertips, instead, stay hardened
Solitude and hard work drives their day
Not Solitaire and hardly working.
So who is right in their way of life?
Both. Respectively.
As time transcends, from sonnets to cyberspace
There is no such thing as mistakes,
Just opportunity.

Self-ish

As thoughts run through my head, I wonder over and over how to tell the world. It truly is a constant flux of thoughts and beliefs. Like the battles of a war void of outcome. I win some, I lose some. And in those moments of doubt, world, I find sanctuary in my love for writing. It is my staple, my constant, my anchor. When so much is unpredictable, to have something so valued and safe in life can do far more than that of any therapy. As sure as the sun setting outside my window now, I emphasize that you heed this paramount advice. Find what makes you happy and exploit it. Use it. Make it your slave without remorse. At the same time, cherish it. Treat it like the God you pray for. Take refuge and lay down with it when the chaos of the world inevitably seeks you out.

I believe in it. I may not belong here, and I may not belong anywhere. But, at the end of the day, whether I'm acting solipsistic or not, I can count on myself and my words to carry me through. If this blog isn't a testament to that, then I'm not sure what is. I can't confirm that anybody will read this as I write. And if I woke up tomorrow the only person left in the world, I would still write. For my sanity and for the hope that should someone stumble across it, that they can take away a small piece of advice to apply to their own lives. Individuality. When you parr it down, that is the quintessential purpose. To be you. To know and trust in your existence, the only existence you can count on. Until you find another existence to count on. To really, truly count on. Then you never let go. Not deep down.

So heed this message well, my friends. Know that I am not preaching. Rather, I'm merely suggesting how I've found what I deem success, and maybe some small sliver of it will help you in some way, whether it be related or not. Sometimes the answers we seek are in the places we don't find ourselves looking. Until next time.

TC

Party Girls and Speechcraft

So here I am, writing to you on this lazy Sunday afternoon. The weather outside reminds me of that one girl from that one party. You know the type, right? Looks great, and from a distance you just want to be part of it. However, once you commit, you realize that it's just a facade, and in reality it's cold. Guess looks aren't everything. That's outside today. I wake up and it looks like summer again. I want to be outside getting some sunlight. I finally decide it is a good idea and low-and-behold, it's in the 40s. It was even worse this morning when it was 34, but still looked like a typical late summer/early autumn type moment. That one girl from that one party. Cold and beautiful.

I feel like I'm coming more to terms with the idea that that grass is greener on the other side. I always want what I can't have and when I have the thing that I wanted, I'm back to square one. First I want stability, then I want freedom, then I want stability again. In an ideal world, I'll find some middle ground. Stable and free. The good life. Until then, I'm just going to keep running at 120%. No need for sleep, no need for rationality. Just a life filled with spontaneous doings, trusting my instincts and living in the now. I like it like that. I don't really care what happens good or bad, because I'm convinced that life is what you make it. In light of bad happenings, something good will arise, like a phoenix from the ashes. In terms of good times, there is usually a silver lining; an unexpected expense for acting in such a manner. No matter what though, the scale balances out. The greater forces at work wouldn't let it happen any other way. So maybe I'm a fatalistic optimist. Maybe I hate labels and only associate myself as such because people need names for things. Isn't that funny? The necessity for humankind to make sure everything has adequate words for it, when so often is the case that we can't surmise what we truly mean with the limitations of English. I think that is what I find so sexy about it. A constant and never-ending struggle to so carefully choose the right words. Succeed, and the world is yours for the taking. Fail, and you're just like everybody else. Not so bad, ladies and gentlemen, ma'ams and sirs. Not. So. Bad.

Hands and Wheels, Ten and Two

Song of the moment: Beats Antique - Egyptic

Hello all,

I'm dozing off again and again as I progressively wear my body out. It is a repeated trend each fall semester, with my final burnout happening right around Christmas vacation. It'll allow me a few weeks to recharge, though I plan to do so with some serious writing progress on the novella.

It's been awhile since I've published something creative, so let's give it a whirl...

Hands and Wheels, Ten and Two
by Trey Campbell
Downtime, uptime, more like uptime
All the time, not enough time
What I could do with just a little more time
Time and time again, I think about me
Me and you, us and them, but not really them
Just us, and how you seem to stop time
When I see you, I want more time
And I know it's not yet our time
But is there ever really a good time
For Me and you, us against them
Timid about time, tick tock
Tick tock. Tick tock.
It drives my day, in and out
Time to get over it though
As it is inevitable as death itself
And to death it'll inevitably lead.
Time.

Kind of channeling some beat poetry here. A little Ginsberg maybe? At least that was what I was going for. My mind is so fatigued. It is a good thing I don't have any raves, concerts or travel planned this weekend. Just good sleep and good times.

A State of Fuckery

Oh, Michigan. I'm becoming steadily more disappointed in you and the quality of life as time goes on. Yes, this is a rant. Just a warning. If you don't want to read it, don't. But there are two things that are very disconcerting to me. The first is the couch ban in Ann Arbor. No more couches on porches, says the city. The reasoning: A couch on a porch caught on fire and a student died. I feel bad for the student, I really do. But really, what kind of bullshit knee jerk reaction is that? If a couch inside a house caught fire and killed a student, would they ban furniture inside houses? Doubtful. If a house caught on fire in Ann Arbor, would they ban houses? What kind of stupid fucking question is that? It just is annoying that after hot debate, the best solution was to remove furniture from porches, a staple of my college lifestyle once I lived off-campus. I can't even remember how many days we'd sit out overlooking Packard on the couch, rain or shine. Bring our computers and some left-over pizza, maybe a flat beer too and sit on the porch and talk. Not anymore because apparently couches on porches kill people exclusively.

Second thing I'm pissed about: Banning 4Loko. More particularly, banning in Michigan all 55 alcoholic energy drinks. A few documented cases of hospitalized kids is a media frenzy. Surely more frat/sorority girls go to the hospital for alcohol poisoning on a weekly basis. Yet there are no efforts to curb that. Instead, the media is running away with a public panic and inducing hysteria to the masses about something that should be more carefully regulated. They say children have it in refrigerators at home. Yeah? Well if parents gave a shit a little bit more, maybe they would see the energy drink says "contains alcohol" in 7 different places. This is not an issue of 4Loko being potent or lethal compared to any other alcohol. Rather, it is an issue of how people are stupid.

Yikes

It has been awhile since my last post. My apologies to you, my faithful readers. I write as a study break from some literature. The required kind. The kind that gives off the appearance of sucking, but will surely come up in conversation years from now and I'll be glad to have some witty comment to make.

Song for the moment: Kenmochi Hidefuri - Emperor

I write today to discuss escapism. A powerful utility in the arsenal of humankind, though with that powerful ability comes a sort of admittance of defeat. There is a difference between escapism and taking a step back, or sleeping on an idea before discussing it. Escapism is the instant in-and-out departure from some event one does not want to face. I see it as an ultimate sign of weakness in an individual (don't worry, I'm not targeting anybody specifically).

I've taken notice that substances tend to be the most frequented means of escapism. I am most certainly not the person to preach disapproval towards the use of a stimulant or depressant, yet I can safely say that the abuse of these goods in a way that only puts a band-aid on a bullet hole won't lead anywhere productive. There is a distinct difference between recreational use and having a problem in which one needs to use to get away.

For me personally, my means of escape is music. I'll put my reputation on the line to say that music can effectively cure any wounded emotion, as well as unite, diversify, broaden horizons and convey messages that simple words or actions cannot. It is one of the most powerful of means to solve problems available and should heavily be utilized. I can get high simply by listening to a powerful song. I can become intoxicated by a sweet melody or a cunning lyric. If you are going to abuse something, abuse music. Just don't abuse it with Lady Gaga or Nickelback.

Speaking of Lady Gaga, please let me rant very briefly. I will be the first to admit that Lady Gaga's songs are annoying as shit. Plain and simply put, it is bad music. Catchy in all the ways that make me want to smash my head against cement pilons. However, Lady Gaga is a necessary component of our world. She is iconic, in the way that the remembered celebrity greats of our parent's generation were. It really hit me when I was in Italy and people over there hummed her songs, not knowing a single lyric, yet madly in love with the music. While she may be an odd woman and unconventional at that, and er music may fall on daft ears, happily and mindlessly droning away though to her pop-soaked candycane lyrics, she is representative of our collective society. She is the stereotype of the 2000s celebrity woman. She is the Madonna replacement, and before long, there will come another, ready to step into her shoes (or whatever the hell she is wearing on her feet these days). I can certainly respect her ability to perform, her ability to win over mass numbers of people and the fact that she does what she wants and doesn't give a shit how it makes her look. She is the most appealing hermaphrodite I've ever seen. I tip my hat and drink to her for those reasons.

Time to get back to the books. Maybe I'll be back later...
TC