A perfect beauty of a sunflower! a perfect excellent lovely sunflower existence! a sweet natural eye to the new hip moon, woke up alive and excited grasping in the sunset shadow sunrise golden monthly breeze!
We're not our skin of grime, we're not our dread bleak dusty imageless locomotive, we're all beautiful golden sunflowers inside, we're blessed by our own seed & golden hairy naked accomplishment-bodies growing into mad black formal sunflowers in the sunset, spied on by our eyes under the shadow of the mad locomotive riverbank sunset Frisco hilly tincan evening sitdown vision. -- Ginsberg
*~Zoë / Sophomore at Green Mountain College, Vermont / Sociology Anthropology major / minor in music~*
Follow my new tumblr, it’s all about cuntlovin’ and justice!
musingsofalibertine
That means a lot to me, seeing as I only have four followers at the moment on my no-love-without-justice tumblr. I’m still trying to figure out how to have two tumblrs at once and how this works.
But it is very nice to know someone is reading my stuff and enjoying it as much as I enjoyed writing it!
Anonymous
My father prefers to go by the name ‘Todios O’Banion’. He even has this name on his credit card. Apparently he got the name ‘Todios’ from his younger sister Karen one day when she ran around him in circles and chanted “Todios! Todios! Todios!” …I have no idea where the name O’Banion came from.
Went to Peru to become a shaman. Apparently, climbing to the top of Machu Pichu and drinking a bunch of vile liquid and then vomiting all over the place for about two hours means you’ve become a shaman. Good work, Dad.
Once told my mother that he is really a lesbian trapped in a man’s body.
Has an entire room in his house dedicated to strange masks. There isn’t anything else in the room, just hanging masks all over the walls.
The last time he visited, his long scraggly hair was blonde. I asked why. Apparently he took a bath of hydrogen peroxide and it bleached his hair. That same day he snorted some wasabi in a nice Japanese restaurant.
Created a character named ‘Santa Poot’. It kind of looks like a skinny hippo that stands upright. Santa doesn’t come to the Biehls at Christmas, Santa Poot does. He is known for giving creepy and bizarre gifts (for creepy and bizarre people). An example would be a stuffed wombat in a tin can.
Used to fill his mouth with milk and lie down on the floor so his two dogs could lap up the milk out of his mouth.
He has a blog, check it out if you want: http://kotbiehl.com/
Anonymous
Ooh yay, questions! I never get questions!
1) It’s not my earliest memory of music, but I remember the beginning of my intense love of music: I was six, playing with my parent’s CDs with my older sister, we were listening to random songs, when suddenly Help! by the Beatles came on. My sister quickly skipped it, but I yelled, “No! Go back I wanna hear this one!” and as we listened, something happened inside of me and I become completely obsessed with the Beatles. I asked for Beatles CDs for Chanukah and memorized every single song…adults used to pay me to sing them! haha
2) Entirely, completely, batshit fucking insane. Weirdest people in the entire world. Think ‘Running With Scissors’ weird. Fucked up. Dysfunctional. Eccentric. At least they’re interesting. I love my mom and my brother intensely…we bonded through all the insanity that is our family, and are so strong and awesome because of it.
3) Haha…my entire life! My summer I spent living in a tent in France when I had just turned seventeen is something that always makes me laugh. I banged a french guy in a public shower and he tried to speak dirty to me in English and ended up saying, “You is just a bitch, yes?”
4) Maybe my step dad who killed himself with drugs and alcohol this past summer. I would tell him I forgive him and promise him I will never allow myself to turn into him.
5) Walden, NY. Completely uninteresting little town with gangs and hillbillies. The people I spent my time with are not very good people…we did a lot of stupid things as kids (breaking into people’s houses, etc), and then during my teen years the only time I interacted with people in my town was when I was completely shitfaced, getting drunk at a house down the street with all the firemen, policemen, and even the mayor of the town (all of whom are assholes).
Thanks for asking these, it was fun to answer!! (PS, go off anonymous, I’d love to ask you questions too!)
Hi guys, I just made a new personal tumblr where I will keep essays and rants and poems and whatever else I decide to write. I’d love you to check it out!
http://no-love-without-justice.tumblr.com/
Thanks!
