Die Tanzen das Hippy

I claim the headline for myself this week, I do. Pride cometh before, after, and during a fall. I enjoy starting off with a good, solid blast of hard stuff—think I'll keep doing that. And much like the awareness created by LSD—Sally has been downtown, seen her baby with another girl, and this cannot be un-learned. The saddest thing in the whole wide world.

Slick, slick like blood on reinforced, soundproof glass. If I had me a loaded "herwon" needle, I'd stick that spike deep into this pain in my solar plexus, and plunge away. Every day is a new day to "make things right," right?

But enough about me. This is my ascension, and my inevitable flutter down, and I think you all get that, by now. Ha!

Beloved Castleheads, I live for thee.

You lived for WOLD, NO TREND, Aanal Beehemoth, the mysterious JAM picture disc on Breathmint, Mesa Ritual, Grace Slick & The Great Society, the new Grasshopper on Pizza Night, and Hoor-paar-Kraat.

Sweet Laurel-Ann, she's pretty much done for. She spoke, she listened, whatever—sometimes that is all it takes. Words kill. Click on her voided eyes (before she hits that glass a few more times!) to access the playlist and streaming audio archive of last night's horrorcast.