Red Mosquito

Jorge wrote:The artist name "Fred Again". Every time I see it I'm like that's so stupid!

dad wrote:I guess the south won't rise again.

96583UP wrote:i mean we all know no one was listening to mother love bone

and their music sucks

so just stop acting like it's a core part of your religious history

Carl Sandburg wrote:There is a wolf in me . . . fangs pointed for tearing gashes . . . a red tongue for raw meat . . . and the hot lapping of blood—I keep this wolf because the wilderness gave it to me and the wilderness will not let it go.

There is a fox in me . . . a silver-gray fox . . . I sniff and guess . . . I pick things out of the wind and air . . . I nose in the dark night and take sleepers and eat them and hide the feathers . . . I circle and loop and double-cross.

There is a hog in me . . . a snout and a belly . . . a machinery for eating and grunting . . . a machinery for sleeping satisfied in the sun—I got this too from the wilderness and the wilderness will not let it go.

There is a fish in me . . . I know I came from salt-blue water-gates . . . I scurried with shoals of herring . . . I blew waterspouts with porpoises . . . before land was . . . before the water went down . . . before Noah . . . before the first chapter of Genesis.

There is a baboon in me . . . clambering-clawed . . . dog-faced . . . yawping a galoot's hunger . . . hairy under the armpits . . . here are the hawk-eyed hankering men . . . here are the blonde and blue-eyed women . . . here they hide curled asleep waiting . . . ready to snarl and kill . . . ready to sing and give milk . . . waiting—I keep the baboon because the wilderness says so.

There is an eagle in me and a mockingbird . . . and the eagle flies among the Rocky Mountains of my dreams and fights among the Sierra crags of what I want . . . and the mockingbird warbles in the early forenoon before the dew is gone, warbles in the underbrush of my Chattanoogas of hope, gushes over the blue Ozark foothills of my wishes—And I got the eagle and the mockingbird from the wilderness.

O, I got a zoo, I got a menagerie, inside my ribs, under my bony head, under my red-valve heart—and I got something else: it is a man-child heart, a woman-child heart: it is a father and mother and lover: it came from God-Knows-Where: it is going to God-Knows-Where—For I am the keeper of the zoo: I say yes and no: I sing and kill and work: I am a pal of the world: I came from the wilderness.

B wrote:Jesus Christ, guys! I know it's traditional for the South to collapse under the mere rumor of a dusting of snow, but it's fucking raining today and schools are closed. Doctor's office's are closed.

I honestly don't understand this fucking place.

Carl Sandburg wrote:There is a wolf in me . . . fangs pointed for tearing gashes . . . a red tongue for raw meat . . . and the hot lapping of blood—I keep this wolf because the wilderness gave it to me and the wilderness will not let it go.

There is a fox in me . . . a silver-gray fox . . . I sniff and guess . . . I pick things out of the wind and air . . . I nose in the dark night and take sleepers and eat them and hide the feathers . . . I circle and loop and double-cross.

There is a hog in me . . . a snout and a belly . . . a machinery for eating and grunting . . . a machinery for sleeping satisfied in the sun—I got this too from the wilderness and the wilderness will not let it go.

There is a fish in me . . . I know I came from salt-blue water-gates . . . I scurried with shoals of herring . . . I blew waterspouts with porpoises . . . before land was . . . before the water went down . . . before Noah . . . before the first chapter of Genesis.

There is a baboon in me . . . clambering-clawed . . . dog-faced . . . yawping a galoot's hunger . . . hairy under the armpits . . . here are the hawk-eyed hankering men . . . here are the blonde and blue-eyed women . . . here they hide curled asleep waiting . . . ready to snarl and kill . . . ready to sing and give milk . . . waiting—I keep the baboon because the wilderness says so.

There is an eagle in me and a mockingbird . . . and the eagle flies among the Rocky Mountains of my dreams and fights among the Sierra crags of what I want . . . and the mockingbird warbles in the early forenoon before the dew is gone, warbles in the underbrush of my Chattanoogas of hope, gushes over the blue Ozark foothills of my wishes—And I got the eagle and the mockingbird from the wilderness.

O, I got a zoo, I got a menagerie, inside my ribs, under my bony head, under my red-valve heart—and I got something else: it is a man-child heart, a woman-child heart: it is a father and mother and lover: it came from God-Knows-Where: it is going to God-Knows-Where—For I am the keeper of the zoo: I say yes and no: I sing and kill and work: I am a pal of the world: I came from the wilderness.

tragabigzanda wrote:

tragabigzanda wrote:

tommy wrote:

96583UP wrote:i mean we all know no one was listening to mother love bone

and their music sucks

so just stop acting like it's a core part of your religious history

My mom was a fan

Was her name China

I feel like this should've at least earned a chuckle

B wrote:Jesus Christ, guys! I know it's traditional for the South to collapse under the mere rumor of a dusting of snow, but it's fucking raining today and schools are closed. Doctor's office's are closed.

I honestly don't understand this fucking place.

96583UP wrote:

B wrote:Jesus Christ, guys! I know it's traditional for the South to collapse under the mere rumor of a dusting of snow, but it's fucking raining today and schools are closed. Doctor's office's are closed.

I honestly don't understand this fucking place.

dude you have to

it's like they have no idea how to handle it

people drive on it like it is no different than regular pavement, and die

like an alien substance they have no idea can have different properties

tree_ wrote:when people take friggin forever to type a message and you keep checking in to see the "..." "..." "..." pause, pause "..." "..."... doesn't anyone know how to write messages with their voices? it's 2026 for christs sakeses

Monkey_Driven wrote:

tree_ wrote:when people take friggin forever to type a message and you keep checking in to see the "..." "..." "..." pause, pause "..." "..."... doesn't anyone know how to write messages with their voices? it's 2026 for christs sakeses

I never use voice to text. Old school, baby!

spike wrote:This sheds so much light on tree’s posts.