Slut, Asshole, Slut, Asshole, Slut, Asshole!

Dear Blog,

It's been a bit of a boring weekend except for seeing the Rocky Horror Picture show. It was one of the best things I've ever been too. It was like a cool, refreshing drink of water compared to the hot, intolerable desert of Asbury and it's goddamned community standards. Speaking of Asbury, I cleaned up my movie review for the paper and I am even happier with it than before. It taught me some valuable lessons indeed.

I am starving for Christmas Break out here. Besides the fact that I desperately yearn to play Rock Band and hold it's glory in my tiny, cabbage hands. I also just yearn for some escape and relief. I'll keep holding on I suppose but finals cannot get here quick enough. It's been boring here lately with no homework and being a little too sick of Guitar Hero I + II. I have too much free time and the days are moving way too slow.

Also, the Mountain Goats played a killer setlist for free to NYU students recently. I was very jealous. This is why I need to go to ZOOP! in the summer. To see my dream of a truly great Mountain Goats setlist achieved.

I got some new Bright Eyes, New Pornographers, and three Mountain Goats Christmas songs recently. I have only listened to some of the New Pornographers so far but it seems nice. I plan to jump on the tMG Christmas songs as soon as I finish this post.
I will also go ahead and post the poem I promised all the way in the last post.

Something I Can Dance To
By Ben Morgan

Utah hates the government and flat out revolts
Holy amazing
fantastic blitzkrieg
After the bum rush
no one can lie
Government trackers
tracing the Salt Lake
looking for people
to make some examples
But I hid in the back of the drug store

I tried to sleep for quite awhile
But every five to seven minutes
I wake up feeling
the g-man's hand
on my collar
No one is more panicked and stressed out than I am (seriously I'm eating my own hair)
Bombs burst brave
over deaf dumb dead cities
dead dead dead dead dead dead dead (why my little sister oh I couldn't protect her)
I'm crying while whatever Mr. Jones was prescribed is wearing off (I can't pronounce it)

Bright flash
loud quiet voices
hush hush
I cower
Black flashlights
shoes
ties
guns GUNS!

dragging me to the gallows
It's a brand new inquisition
They don't give me one last request
But I would've asked for something I could dance to


Yours,
B Morgz