Yup, totally the wrong week.
-Airplane! (1980)
This is a great movie about what happened on Wall St.
It’s 1:48 minutes long.
You can download for FREE the HD version on the page.
Empower yourself with knowledge.
Lol. “mom, you’ve always told me to save myself for someone I love, and that there are many sinful things that can be done in the bedroom”…”that’s why I always suck/bang strangers in cars or parks, and neglected to tell you about the 20+ people I’ve slept with” LOVE YOU
Tyree Callahan - Chromatic Typewriter, 2011 - A 1937 Underwood standard typewriter modified to produce colors instead of letter.
please come live in my home.
Damn Terrence
Carriage Lights (Ode to a dead friend)
Transient and temporary
The flicker, it fades
With carriage lights down dark alleys.
… Puddles pool in muddy mirrors and
As that cold man is carried away
My face is reflected dirty and grave.
Oh, who does the clatter of cobbles
Sing to, this midnight noon?
The mournful steps of shod hooves
Clicking like the gears of
That grinding wheel of time told?
I have not grown, but been whittled old.
Like those great oak trees, come autumn
Shed their crowns as falling leaves,
My once royal brow feels barren;
Robbed by the teeth of winter
Of youth, the noble vitality and pride
Which separates peasants from kings.
Her name, and her name, spoken on
The drops of rain that sputter my muddy
Reflection brown and black - The bells
And chimes of seconds withering, dying;
The clarion call that what’s time has come
Cannot be undone nor brought back.
Transient and temporary
The flicker, it fades
With carriage lights down dark alleys.
… Puddles pool in muddy mirrors and
As that cold man is carried away
My face is reflected dirty and grave.
Oh, who does the clatter of cobbles
Sing to, this midnight noon?
The mournful steps of shod hooves
Clicking like the gears of
That grinding wheel of time told?
I have not grown, but been whittled old.
Like those great oak trees, come autumn
Shed their crowns as falling leaves,
My once royal brow feels barren;
Robbed by the teeth of winter
Of youth, the noble vitality and pride
Which separates peasants from kings.
Her name, and her name, spoken on
The drops of rain that sputter my muddy
Reflection brown and black - The bells
And chimes of seconds withering, dying;
The clarion call that what’s time has come
Cannot be undone nor brought back.
