I want him to be my dog
Published on November 16, 2003 By Splendiphorus Spliph In Music
For the rest of my life, when confronted with my limitations, when ridiculed by total strangers for my lack of prowess and my apathic nature, if I have nothing to show for myself and nothing to say, I can turn and look at them smuggly and say " Mine eyes have beheld the beautiful, wondrous Iggy Pop...so there." and I'll mean it, damn it.

Oh, Iggy, I never loved you more than when you were calling me (the rest of the audience included) " stupid ant". I knew that these were words of love.

I sit here in front of my computer in mystified rememberance. Yes, Marilyn was there as well, but really, Marilyn who? To think he even attempted to follow Iggy is down right laughible.

I think the over all sentiment I have can be summed up by what was said to me by a fellow whom I was fortunate enough to share my Iggy experience with.
Riding high on the tide of the music, right after Iggy's set: "Well, we can stay and listen to or we can go find some place to make out" Let's go, little dude; I've got Iggy on the brain.
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