The 25 Best "Best Of" Albums...
crazytimes
The Hysterical Bride
> http://new.music.yahoo.com/blogs/listoftheday/37394/the-25-best-of-be...
> ...
7) Greatest Hits, Volume 2--Bob Dylan:
Oh great.
They are trying to tell me to commit suicide again!
badlands420
"crazytimes" <crazyt...@yahoo.com> wrote in message
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> http://new.music.yahoo.com/blogs/listoftheday/37394/the-25-best-of-best-ofs
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I own exactly one of those 25.
The Hysterical Bride
wrote:
I've heard of exactly everybody (and every group name) on that list!
Hurray for me!
Ok, I have pulled myself from the depths of anguish and despair, I
have to stop getting angry, at myself, and others.
Especially Bob Dylan, since he is going to be my savior, and give me a
baby which I don't really want, but I guess I have to if I want to
hang out in his jacuzzi!
Just kidding.
I am just truly honestly grateful for everyone in my life, for the
kind people in RMD, and desperately desperately desperately want to
believe in a G-d who is not going to torture me, but I am still really
really really scared.
I even had a scare that I was being poisoned tonight.
Long story.
Forget it.
Oh G-d, even just mentioning it, I mean, forget it.
I seriously am not going to have a baby.
But I'm not having any fun.
I was so mad before, I thought I wasn't going to post anymore, and
since I am trying to watch what I eat, I thought I was honestly and
truly going to be living out Jokerman, but then I remembered that I
*think* I like this group, and why would I stop posting, but then I
think that things that were just in good fun, weren't about me anymore
than the songs are about me, like Tim and that Reagan joke thread,
which I didn't even understand what was going on, why people were
making those jokes, and not even thinking about the fact that he had
Alzheimer's.
I mean, I wonder...
Did RMD really EXPOSE me for who I really am, or did it turn me INTO
something that it wanted me to be?
WHO AM I, REALLY?
I just saw this thing on TV in a movie, about how women choose men
based on their success to insure the propagation of their genes.
Was that what it was all about with Dylan?
Could that be what it was all about when I was just a little girl?
lol.
What is it about with Dylan?
Why can't I just let him go?
I SWEAR TO G-D, he could come live with me and I would be happy.
Ok, wait.
Honestly, I would miss his jacuzzi.
See, the thing is, I am feeling so LAZY, I just don't want to GO
anywhere, or DO anything.
I used to LOVE to drive.
Then someone hit me from behind, and now I don't like driving anymore.
I really don't.
It's not FUN.
Big sigh.
I feel like Angelina. (or rather, the God with the body of a woman
well endowed who is going to cease to exist) Who will I become? I've
had quite a story to tell, have I changed since the womb, what
happened to the real me, have I been possessed by Satan?
I'm not even supposed to believe in Satan.
I consider both religions equally valid. haha.
I think to myself that I partially know the answer.
I think Bob Dylan is hot.
That's the first thing that comes to mind, about why I like him.
He is attractive to me.
I'm not terribly interested in his brain.
I am more interested in his jacuzzi.
But I don't want to sit in that jacuzzi, or ANY jacuzzi, all by
myself.
As a matter of fact, I don't want to sit in a jacuzzi with anyone but
Dylan.
Ok, this is bad.
This is part of my problem.
I am obsessed with Bob Dylan.
That's ugly.
That's probably how I became morbidly obese.
Honestly, I kept ignoring my body, and looking in the mirror while
(don't get grossed out) after taking a whizz, on the toilet, with my
head slightly down, and my eyes up, pulling my hair back, and I liked
my face, and so I kept "getting away with it." (gaining weight.)
It's impossible to do that anymore.
Now my face is fat, and I have to face the morbid reality of my body.
I am reminded of the lyrics, your pleasure knows no limits.
It's almost true.
I mean, I push everything (and everyone) to its ultimate breaking
point.
And beyond.
And then I have crossed the line.
I am too fat.
This has to stop.
What about the Internet, and my insanity, and my words?
Can I find validation in Bob Dylan's lyrics, that I was living out his
prophecies?
I don't want anything bad to happen anymore, anything bad to come
true.
Why oh why couldn't I have just met him like a normal person?
We've been through this already.
It wouldn't have been fair.
To him, or to me.
I just CAN NOT BELIEVE that Bob Dylan reads this, that I charmed his
brains away, etc..
If we were meant to be more than friends, I think that means that we
are worst enemies.
What could he have possibly meant singing about his bride?
This is totally insane.
Forget it.
Ok, now that I have forgotten it, I am thinking of jacuzzis out there
in the real world, and they seem appealing to me, but obviously, I
can't go as I am now.
ALSOTOO, and I swear to G-d I mean this, IF I WERE TAKING MORE
SHOWERS, I WOULDN'T BE THINKING ABOUT A HOT, SOOTHING JACUZZI.
Hmm, that's like a tiny little revelation (which I knew and have had
before) that I just remembered.
I am looking at my picture of 53230, the last one, and laughing.
It's like I've got him.
I've captured him.
See, I am totally part African-American, I am at one with my roots.
You know, how people from African tribes (something like this) say
don't like having their picture taken (not saying this well) because
it captures a piece of their soul.
I am just looking at that cute little weasel on my wall, and he is
totally adorable.
I mean, I don't want anymore than that.
That's his body.
Because that is what I was thinking, I have everything, and now I just
want his body, while staring at the picture, then I realized he was
right there, and then I laughed.
I am so sad.
It just can't be my dream to get married and have a family.
After what I went through today, tonight, I am not going to pass this
on to another person.
I do not want to be responsible for anyone else's misery.
I do not want anyone looking to ME for answers.
I have no answers.
I have no solutions.
I don't even know who all the presidents were, or where all the states
are.
OMG, I can't believe it.
I am never going to have a baby.
At least, not on my own.
If Dildo wants to ask me for one, he can have one.
But I abdicate all responsiblity for the offspring.
And I would ask for nothing in return.
Not even the sex.
I would be artificially inseminated, and the doctor could take the
baby and give it to Bob Dylan himself. lol.
Why would Bob Dylan want my baby?
Why would I want Bob Dylan's baby?
Why would anyone want a baby?
I have no idea what I want.
I like to talk.
I LOVE playing tennis.
I am inching along like slug here.
I gave up the exercise, but I am really really watching what I eat.
I must be the laziest person on the face of the earth.
Why don't I like to move?
I like moving my fingers.
I like typing and watching the letters and words appear on the
computer monitor.
That's fun.
But it really SUCKS when I have nothing to say.
IT MAKES ME MAD!!!!!!!!!!
Bob Dylan is the cutest little man in the whole world. (I am looking
at 53230)
I really like his hair.
I never thought I could be attracted to Dylan.
He was never "my type."
Maybe that would be good news for our children!
If I am really so concerned about my children, I should have children
with a black man.
That would really enlarge the gene pool selection!
But I don't want children.
I don't even want Dylan.
Forget it.
It's not nice to want things, or people.
I dunno.
I'm just exhausted, today has been a very long day, with no purpose,
and no redemption.
I want the real world back.
I am so sick of this closet.
I am ashamed of who I am in the real world.
No matter what I look like.
Maybe that's why I get manic and/or psycho when I get really thin.
I can't fit in anywhere.
I can't crawl out my window.
I am supposed to be with Bob Dylan in Malibu.
And there's no way to get there.
He can't come here.
He's too good for me.
He can't even call me.
He's WAY too good for me.
He's Bob Dylan the MAGNIFICENT!
God Bless Bob Dylan, the Moshiach, who doesn't care about me!
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