"anablog"
The old fashioned journal you wrote in with crushed tree pulp, binding, and maybe some kind of lock mechanism. For some reason people used to like writing opinions only they read. It is a fad past its prime but Borders still sells them for some reason.
"What is that odd rectangular shaped device you have in your lap that appears to be filled with blue lined 2 dimensional pieces of non-digital substance?"
"Oh this is just my anablog...I write it in to remember things and keep my private thoughts"
"I see, so how do you post it when you're done?"
-Copied and Pasted from UrbanDictionary.com
1/17/2006
1/11/2006
Going to Graceland, Memphis Tennesee



Elvis. He is the King. The King of Rock and Roll, and the King of Tacky Interior Decorating.
There's his Mansion. A beautiful monument to southern style.

And then there's what he did to the inside.

I actually find it rather endearing. He had so much musical soul and energy. He moved the musical world. And yet his house is so normal. It felt like everything I wanted to forget about the 60's and 70's.
He had the money. Just no taste. Or at least, no good taste. Maybe it was the entire stick of butter he used to fry his bannana and peanut butter sandwiches. Maybe it was his love for his mother. Maybe it was the drugs. Or maybe, it was the bad taste of a generation gone wild. It was definately worth the one visit. Don't think I'll be returning anytime soon, though. The orange shag carpet in my own living room is enough to keep me humble.
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