Concerning Saturday night

I'll be there as long as you fembots don't fucking tell me what to do. I'll be dancing on my own all night - you can hang with me, if you call your girlfriend.

Alright, I've got to get myself together, because this dancehall queen has come to rest in my eyes. Dance until we're all stars forever.

I'm warning you, I'm indestructible and love kills like a dysfunctional time machine...cuz none of them can dance to the beat. We, but especially you, should have known better.

Anthro-art

Earlier this week, The New Yorker published a piece on Irving Penn's new display over at the Pace/MacGill Gallery entitled Archaeology.

The stark contrasts of the ordinary objects that he's compiled with the bones of animals (including that one known as the human animal) are both mundane and fantastic, and while these are still photographs they come alive with the shadows. I think that my favorite part is the dust or rust that settles around the objects, giving them an untouched feeling...as if he stumbled upon the placement of the objects as is.

I never thought I'd be the one to say this particular phrase, but anyone want to go stroll the galleries?