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Introduction by the Author by Fran Leibowitz

All modesty is false.

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All strangers are perfect.

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All musicals are revivals.

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All pets are adopted.

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All smoke is secondhand.

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All vegetables are organic.

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All mothers are single.

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All favorites are sentimental.

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All consciences are guilty.

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All suspicions are sneaking.

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All endings are happy.

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All fanatics are religious.

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No thought is consoling.

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No speculation is idle.

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There’s no business not like show business.

Last night I dreamed that I was dreaming of you
And from a window across the lawn I watched you undress
Wearing your sunset of purple tightly woven around your hair
That rose in strangled ebony curls
Moving in a yellow bedroom light
The air is wet with sound
The faraway yelping of a wounded dog
And the ground is drinking a slow faucet leak
Your house is so soft and fading as it soaks the black summer heat
A light goes on and the door opens
And a yellow cat runs out on the stream of hall light and into the yard

A wooden cherry scent is faintly breathing the air
I hear your champagne laugh
You wear two lavender orchids
One in your hair and one on your hip
A string of yellow carnival lights comes on with the dusk
Circling the lake with a slowly dipping halo
And I hear a banjo tango

And you dance into the shadow of a black poplar tree
And I watched you as you disappeared
I watched you as you disappeared
I watched you as you disappeared
I watched you as you disappeared

“

—	Tom Waits lyrics, Watch Her Disappear (via lunaschlosser)

Luna: I’m great physically. I got a Ph.D. in oral sex.
Miles: Yeah, they make you take any Spanish with that?

“

—	Sleeper, Woody Allen (via lunaschlosser)

lunaschlosser:

Ed Yourdon, check out his flickr

clavid:

porn would never ignore my texts or make me cry

lunaschlosser:

all i’m saying is that my life is a woody allen movie, top photograph by sierra pittman

tastesgooddontit:

I will answer this en masse when I return this evening. You have several hours.

thebluthcompany:

The best of Tobias Fünke.

jessesuitcasey:

Some years before she found international fame with rock group Blondie, a young Debbie Harry was searching for a taxi to take her to a party in the early hours.
   “It was two or three in the morning and I was trying to get across town”, she recalled many years later. “I was staggering around on these platform shoes - it was early in the 1970’s”.
   A “little white car”, kept driving by and slowing down near her, the driver offering her a lift. And, although she turned him down at first, no taxi materialized. And so, eventually, she climbed in.
   Straight away, she regretted her decision. “I knew there was something wrong,” she said. “The hairs on the back of my neck stood up.”
   The man, she said, smelt bad. Also, although it was Summer, the cars windows were up.  The future pop star looked for a door - only to realize there were no handles on the door.
   Alarmed, she managed to squeeze her hand through a small gap in the door and pulled the door open from the outside. When she did so, the driver spun the wheel and she was flung out into the road.
   It was only around the time of Ted Bundy’s execution - almost two decades later - that Debbie, by then a household name, would recognize the face of the condemned rapist and murderer as the man who’d given her a lift that night.
   Without doubt, she had an exceptionally lucky escape from one of Americas most notorious killers.