Like Gene Kelly dancing with a vacuum cleaner, I don't know what the hell is going on, but I suppose it's better that way. I was made to interpret, not understand. It says so in the instruction manual stapled to my plastic ass.
I am standing on the shoulders of giants. Perpetually.
(I am an animal, trapped in your hot car)
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Yes, but, what if, even for the briefest of moments, I can turn black to white? Or, better still, turn black and white to gray?
Better men than me, I will acknowedge, have tried and failed. Failed miserably.
I'm not saying I'm better or forging new territories (I am certainly not saying that); then again, fuck it, I am.
History will be rewritten. Word to hubris, shameless self-promotion, and the sword of Damocles.
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Remember this day. For I give it to you.
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