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They had a poster sale in the U.C. a few days ago. I blew $44 on making my room look pretty and it was worth it.
Over my bed, I've got a huge poster of Edward Gorey's "The Gashleycrumb Tinies", featuring 26 small children getting killed in interesting ways. Next to that, I've got a lovely self-made collage of:
• A Led Zeppelin "Stairway to Heaven" poster featuring the last verse as well as the image of the hermit with the lantern on the rocks
• An Escher print, the one with the water flowing uphill
• A Salvador Dali print featuring horses and elephants with spindly legs and what appear to be temples on their backs
• A print of "La Belle Dame Sans Merci"
• A nice B&W photoprint of Jay and Silent Bob from when they were still kind of scary drug dealers, with Jay glaring and putting his arm around Bob, who is winking
• Another B&W photoprint of John and Yoko in pajamas in bed
• A postcard of Albert Einstein with his tongue sticking out
• A "Mindwarp" postcard with a graphic of circles that appear to spin
• A Pink Floyd postcard, the one with the girls whose backs are painted with album cover designs
Ashley got a few movie posters. She put up a "Without a Paddle" poster, which annoys me slightly because it features Seth Green smirking at you with two other guys who are looking slightly amazed about something. They're directly across from Jay and Silent Bob (who, coincidentally, are being looked up at by John and Yoko). I feel like I have to turn my back to the poster when I get undressed.
But Jay and Bob are protecting me from the lecherous gazes of the creepy teenagers. I know it sounds a bit odd to say, but there's an entirely different dynamic going on in the photoprint. Jay is saying, "This is Bob. He's mine." It's a defensive look.
There's going to be a poster fight before long, and I will soon see one of them ripped to shreds on the floor. I'm putting my money on Jay kicking Seth's two-dimensional arse.
In other news, I wrote a poem about squirrels. I shared it with my poetry group, and they thought it was hilarious. I'm extremely happy to know that I can write funny poetry; before I read it to them, I thought it was fairly serious but bad.
( <i>Squirrels On Campus</i> )
Over my bed, I've got a huge poster of Edward Gorey's "The Gashleycrumb Tinies", featuring 26 small children getting killed in interesting ways. Next to that, I've got a lovely self-made collage of:
• A Led Zeppelin "Stairway to Heaven" poster featuring the last verse as well as the image of the hermit with the lantern on the rocks
• An Escher print, the one with the water flowing uphill
• A Salvador Dali print featuring horses and elephants with spindly legs and what appear to be temples on their backs
• A print of "La Belle Dame Sans Merci"
• A nice B&W photoprint of Jay and Silent Bob from when they were still kind of scary drug dealers, with Jay glaring and putting his arm around Bob, who is winking
• Another B&W photoprint of John and Yoko in pajamas in bed
• A postcard of Albert Einstein with his tongue sticking out
• A "Mindwarp" postcard with a graphic of circles that appear to spin
• A Pink Floyd postcard, the one with the girls whose backs are painted with album cover designs
Ashley got a few movie posters. She put up a "Without a Paddle" poster, which annoys me slightly because it features Seth Green smirking at you with two other guys who are looking slightly amazed about something. They're directly across from Jay and Silent Bob (who, coincidentally, are being looked up at by John and Yoko). I feel like I have to turn my back to the poster when I get undressed.
But Jay and Bob are protecting me from the lecherous gazes of the creepy teenagers. I know it sounds a bit odd to say, but there's an entirely different dynamic going on in the photoprint. Jay is saying, "This is Bob. He's mine." It's a defensive look.
There's going to be a poster fight before long, and I will soon see one of them ripped to shreds on the floor. I'm putting my money on Jay kicking Seth's two-dimensional arse.
In other news, I wrote a poem about squirrels. I shared it with my poetry group, and they thought it was hilarious. I'm extremely happy to know that I can write funny poetry; before I read it to them, I thought it was fairly serious but bad.
( <i>Squirrels On Campus</i> )