“I love things that sound stupid. Big, baroque, bouncy, regal, ridiculous, cluttered, ugly, flawed, fustian, flowery, stupid. It's why I tend toward maximalism, prefer Shostakovich to Bach, Dickens to Hemingway, Gaga to Madonna, density to precision. I prefer, aesthetically, Catholicism to Protestantism -- the grayed disciples and naked Christ and weird pluralities, open wounds, weltering saints -- dog-headed drinkers of pus who carry their cauterized breasts and eyes on plates and suffer sanguineously for The Truth -- the abortive floods and that shrugging rainbow, that literal cannibalism, the self-hatred and the glory. There's so much there, there! A parade -- a parade! -- of different types of pain, under a banner that proclaims "Love & Happiness Forever!" (while St. Denis drops his head and kicks it step-by-step). Legion inclusion feels liberating. Anything can happen. You can be a monster. Watch the celebration from your balcony and listen for the chaos under all those trombones.”
I love things that sound stupid. Big, baroque, bouncy, regal, ridiculous, cluttered, ugly, flawed, fustian, flowery, stupid. It's why I tend toward maximalism, prefer Shostakovich to Bach, Dickens to Hemingway, Gaga to Madonna, density to precision. I prefer, aesthetically, Catholicism to Protestantism -- the grayed disciples and naked Christ and weird pluralities, open wounds, weltering saints -- dog-headed drinkers of pus who carry their cauterized breasts and eyes on plates and suffer sanguineously for The Truth -- the abortive floods and that shrugging rainbow, that literal cannibalism, the self-hatred and the glory. There's so much there, there! A parade -- a parade! -- of different types of pain, under a banner that proclaims "Love & Happiness Forever!" (while St. Denis drops his head and kicks it step-by-step). Legion inclusion feels liberating. Anything can happen. You can be a monster. Watch the celebration from your balcony and listen for the chaos under all those trombones.
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