(Helen Keller)
Disclaimer: I was going to change some of this, but am at work and my day has started. Dear reader, you are on your own.
I finally got my D700. I had one a couple weeks ago but returned it so that I could buy a different one, at a drastically reduced price, and with extras. I have entered the full-frame digital world. Now my lenses will all finally make sense. All of that collecting will start to pay off.
We'll see.
I am interested in only doing nudes. Macro photography of the male outer urethral orifice paired with images of women putting on lipstick.
Help Wanted. Inquire within. No experience necessary. Amateurs preferred. Undergarments optional.
No, my interests go well beyond nudity. I also want to photograph autopsies.
Fuck, that is dark. That even makes me feel a little creeped, a thing not easily accomplished. I used to listen to industrial and goth in hot Florida garages, so, you know... lizards, and stuff.
And not just autopsies, beheadings too. I'm dark.
So, there.
Yikes, I need to go back to writing in the third person. God would never think like this. I'll be an eye on the wall. Is it eye, or fly? I think it's fly. Oh well, I'll be the god-fly-eye on the wall, like Bono in the 90's. That would get boring after a while, unless you could move from room to room. What if the conversation departed? You can't have an entire novel unfold in a single room, unless you're Virginia Woolf.
Now that is a writer's name, Virginia Woolf. Fuck. Why couldn't I have been born with a name like that? And genius. And a nice juicy pussy where my anus now is, or somewhere down there. It's all so confusing.
Well, I started looking at flights to NYC yesterday. I will need to bring six or seven flight cases for all of my camera gear. Just Woolf and I, together again.
She knows how not to shave; just an enormous expanse of pubic hair that stretches from outer thigh to outer thigh. Untrimmed and unshaven, some individual hairs reaching 4+ inches in length. It starts just below the navel and stretches to the knees. A real growler.
I watched Valley of the Dolls with a friend the other night. If there has ever been finer acting before then I don't know where, or when. I believe Philip Seymour Hoffman played all of the parts. It was that good. It was a rare pubic expose and a booby bonanza.
No, the film is actually about how difficult it is for women to finally take over. It begs the question, Is it really all worth it?
I want to do a sequel called Valley of the Balls in which the truth is finally revealed about how difficult it is for men to grow up within a matriarchy, where they are treated only as toys, dressed up by their mothers in outfits they don't want to wear, having their butts wiped daily, scolded, forced to eat vegetables, dragged off to church, all of it. It's time....
These poor kids all end up doing drugs. The pressure is too much for them. I know.
Do you support equal rights for men? Then please sign this petition to have Virginia Woolf's books burned right off of the shelves. They're polluting our high school libraries with their filthy pubic hairs.
Matriarchal birthing must be stopped in our time. Female pregnancy is a thing of the past! The penis deserves its chance to speak. Free Pubic Hair for everybody. Burn your bro's...
Step out of the 50's, asshole!!!
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