They create it, I interpret it. And don't you think for a second that I don't know exactly what the hell I'm talking about.
Friday, May 8, 2009
"Love or Detroit", by L, Chicago, blue marker on typing paper
Yes. Stop. No. Does the heart send messages to the brain in telegram? Or are we all coded and pre-programmed for only three black and white responses? Where's the emotion, the soul, the Hallmark-schmaltz modern media has credited to the most lovey-dovey of all organs, the heart? L calls a spade a spade, or in this case, a heart. Stop the pining, folks. It's an organ, no different than a spleen. Serve that with chocolates. There's also a good chance this could be the state of Michigan but the Pinot's flowing and my truffles are ripe!
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