my mind is… (XXV)
my mind is
a big hunk of irrevocable nothing which touch and taste and smell
and hearing and sight keep hitting and chipping with sharp fatal
in an agony of sensual chisels i perform squirms of chrome and ex
-ecute strides of cobalt
feel that i cleverly am being altered that i slightly am becoming
something a little different, in fact
Hereupon helpless i utter lilac shrieks and scarlet bellowings.
...longtime lurker (first bookmarked August 2003!),
Someday I'll submit a design (see also: someday I'll get a golden tag/make out with Angelina Jolie).
Shirts I own:
Fill Me Up
A Caged Bird Dreams
Fruit of the Negativitree
The Communist Party
I Want To Be Friends
Good Blood, Bad Hands
Peace and Hate. Can You Tell The Difference?
A Room With A View
I Can't Draw
Splash Of Senses
I once saw a boy with a "Flowers in the Attic" tattoo at UC Davis. I scrambled to take a secret photograph and spent the next hour attempting to flirt from afar.
I now keep my urge to own this shirt a dark, dark secret, along with the fact that I own a Polaroid camera. And a typewriter. And some Bukowski first-editions.
...oh, who am I kidding. Threadless caters to a piece of every creed and (sub)culture. I happen to be composed of most of these pieces, in pretty parallel proportions at that. (But I'll still never buy a type tee.)
Also, I was born (...nude) about twenty minutes from the Threadless Headquarters, which I think is almost as cool as being conceived on Halloween by crossdressed parents. (Edit: Now that I've been to their factory, it's even cooler.)