About

Mae govannen, mellon nin! ;)

My name's Gene. I write, take pictures, play music, & think about things. I'm Catholic - WOOT! I like vinyl, film, beer, Batman, LOTR, pop punk, acoustic stuff, jazz, dogs, reading books, keeping politicians honest, & working out. DFTBA!

Blog Parton Saints: JRR Tolkien, Flannery O'Connor, GK Chesterton.

Sloths, tho! =D I love them. I really do!

On 31 December, 2013, I finished the 1st draft of my novel! YAY! I'm working on the 2nd draft now. I really love this process!

I think I need to buy a ukulele.

I have the best friends on the face of the earth. You know who you are! (m)

Wanna Ask me something? Awesome! Ask me stuffs!! NOTE: If you're going to use my Ask Box, PLEASE be RESPECTFUL! Think of it as if you're being invited into my home. If you're a jerk to me, you get what you get. Fair Warning!

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Songs from the Waiting Room in Hell …

"Tainted Love" - Soft Cell.

Can’t you just see the receptionist? Sitting there in a flowery dress, filing her nails to lethaly fine points, looking at you over her horn-rimmed glasses chained around her neck, her Technicolor red lipstick applied haphazardly to lips that can’t seem to meet when she speaks. Her eyes flit from you down to something on her desk then back - this time she has a knowing, sideways, pursed-lip smirk on her face, her eyes dull. You briefly imagine that she was attractive once but the thought leaves you almost immediately.

"Did you sign in, honey?" she asks in a voice like a bone saw, pointing vaguely to the counter in front of her with a meaty hand.

Will this song ever end? you think, as its incessant synth melody loops in your brain, the singer’s high voice sounding like he’s got a gerbil trapped in one of his nostrils. Or, perhaps, both.

You look back at the receptionist who is now a large, frog-like creature with horns atop her head sticking out Viking-like to support the horned-rimmed glasses exaggerating her bulbous eyes, her mouth as wide as a gravedigger’s shovel, still surrounded by lipstick.

Your upper lip curling back, you get up to sign yourself in on the clipboard on the counter. There is no pen. You notice that all names on the sign-in sheet are written in red ink. Next to the clipboard is a lancet with a very sharp point. It looks to have been used many times, dried blood has run down and caked to it. You reach over to the lancet with your index finger …

Touch me, baby, Tainted Love!

Touch me, baby, Tainted Love!

You wake up to the song on your alarm clock radio, which you throw across the room. It shatters against the opposite wall, frightening your cat under your bed. You vow to go to Target at lunch to finally get one of those smaller clocks with the chirpy kind of alarm.

2013.02.27  8:48am  

Post Notes

  1. moochiethinks posted this

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