December 2010
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Something in the rain, in the dark, in the contrasting lives of farmers lies an intuitive streak. A stark, unrelenting, inhuman streak. Its always going to rain somewhere, and the farmers know its not going to be them that gets hit. The farmers wife obeys the farmer and bows to his every need. But, she doesn’t know how wrong that is. If she isn’t getting fucked beyond recognition at...
you and me? we'll climb the well-worn stairs...
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I really want a George & Martha relationship, I love games.
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Dead Writers Club: Happy Deathday Mr. Beckett! →
deadwriters:
Irish avant-garde playwright and poet Samuel Beckett died on this day in 1989 of respiratory failure. The writer was 83 years old and is buried at the Cimetière de Montparnasse, in Paris.
Beckett is best remembered for his play Waiting for Godot. Interestingly, this play was riginally…
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triumphalist
I, just wanted to sing
I needed to sing my song
I, just wanted to
I wanted to have my fun
But you stopped me. Yeah you stopped me. Dead in my tracks, now I’m dead. (Don’t play this at my funeral)
He, just wanted to sing the song, but the man stopped him.
Oh, how he laughed, they laughed it all off. (No hurt, no death)
I needed a neutral man.
I, have my pride, I’m not an...