Drunken Rant #15

Pretty Hate Machine is one brilliant album.
I was 9 years old when it came out, though.
That makes me feel less old than I have lately.

"But that's what I get..."

"Maybe it didn't mean too much, but it meant everything to me."

Oh. My brain operates behind walls 95% of my waking life, and when it escapes, in these mad drunken rushes, I scarcely know what to do with myself.

I do know that.... HAHA. Trent Reznor just growled, "I'm drunk and right now I'm so in love with you." You know. Love is really just a form of drunkenness. A kind of chemical imbalance that makes you feel all is right with the world.

"...the sweat in your eyes, the blood in your veins are listening to me. Well, i want to wrap it up and swim in it until i drown."


This is the only time I really feel alive.

Claude Lelouch's Rendevous

Strangely compelling.

All you crosswalk gentimilade...

Did I ever tell you that I dreamed up a new word in my sleep a week or so ago? I was part of or passing by some tour group walking the streets of my town, as I overheard the tour leader, a pretentious older man with a heavy British sauce all over his voice, warn, "And all the crosswalk gentimilade will do well to watch for cars."

I knew in my head, right then, "Hey, Jenny, that's not a word. Nonsense in dreams, sure, but nonwords?" But I also knew exactly what his word meant. It came from the Spanish word gente, meaning people, and the tail end of remoulade, a sauce mixture containing several different elements. Hence...

gén·ti·mi·lade
n. A grouping or mixing of different kinds of people

My brain. Honestly, it needs to take a break.