2003-10-22

It's sad news about Elliott Smith. Of course it is. He wrote beautiful music and then he stabbed himself. We'd be lying or oblivious, though, if we said it's a surprise. He whispered painful lyrics that walked a tight-rope of suicide in every song. Still, when someone mumbles soft beauty in your ear for so many years, you lose all sense of the words and just wrap yourself in its hush. You forget. Sigh.

In need of a pick-me up, I surfed my site logs a bit today. No, not this site, my, ahem, "real" site, which in some insane world got 56,000+ hits in September. Of course, because I lead a porny life at a porny job with a porny portfolio, I had plenty of search referrals of the lewd and obscene sort. These no longer entertain me. I was, however, most proud to have brought people to my domain through the following searches:

ass freak
i'm fucked
san francisco massage ass
perm sluts
baby in hell
exorcist pictures
goddamn groovy
hamster and spaz dance
la sluts
pig mafia
trailer trash meals
what the hell is that
koochie
imaginary learning
lazy bastards
jar of mayonnaise
freak baby
qualities of superheros
biggest baby on earth (yeah!)
spazzy
we all smoke
ass piercing
clam hair
wook
gay double hip amputee

For the record...it would appear, based on this list, that I have some sort of baby eating factory website. Not so. There are three mentions of babies on my site. A cruel mockery of my sister, this darling thing from burning man '00 and my smoky version of santa baby. Baby ass on, freak ass-baby!