The problem with the men in my life is that they want me to care. I do care of course, sometimes a great deal, sometimes more than I would care to admit, and about the most trivial of matters, but I just don't care about the things I am supposed to care about in their estimation.
And it is the latter that gets both our goats, their estimation, because most of the time I cant be bothered. (Yes Katherine Tate is a goddess). This is the damn crux of being a feminine female. You are
soft, sweet, understanding, yes, but at some point you of course want that lovely man, brother, friend, lover, to just stop harping on, and just get on with it. No one likes a whiner, least of all his long suffering mate. I am sure your mommy found your symptoms and lamentations riveting, and so will I if I really like you, but seriously, enough. To quote Aerosmith, "Shut up and Dance".
So in honor of my no moan policy, lets have less sexual politics, more rock and roll; album cover art is one of the happier marriages of art and music, and it consistently blows my mind. Bands like Pink Floyd and others employed artists to translate their musical vision into original art work that though sometimes controversial and befuddling to the record companies, survived and contributed to the understanding of the album itself, sometimes eclipsing it. This, is perhaps one of the most iconic album covers known to human kind, voted somewhere as the fourth greatest album cover of all time, if you believe wikipedia. In conclusion, I'd be more inclined to care, if your angst resulted in some beautiful music, or art for that matter. Meow.
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