Amanda Fucking Palmer

they don't play the song on the radio
they don't show the tits in the video
they don't know that we are the media
they don't know that we start the mania
I don't want to see but I'm making you
ass is off its seat and I'm shaking you
walking down the street I'm the lady - ja
showing off my map of Tasmania

soft and sweet and shape like a triangle!
some girls want no shape and they shave it all
I think sad it hurts with the stubble
walking around look like an eight year old!
I say grow that shit like a jungle
give 'em something strong to hold onto
let it fly in the open wind
if it get too bushy you can trim

This is the most recent reason why I love Amanda Palmer. It started with the Dresden Dolls, who embodied a pre-steampunk, dark humor that I loved. Don't ask me what steampunk is, but the Dresden Dolls were there first. Then I saw her perform solo and I saw what a real musician should be. This lady loves her dorky ass fans. They shout random shit at her on stage, and she responds. She plays their requests and laughs at their heckling. She dropped her record label and sells her music at whatever price the buyer names. And she makes colorful music videos about getting raped and abortions. And Oasis. And how your friend Melissa can be a total bitch but whatever.

As if this wasn't enough, she teamed up with Jason Webley to perform as Evelyn Evelyn, a set of conjoined twins who suffered a traumatic upbringing but are still innocently eager to please. Songs range from morbid to silly to ironic (for example, their ukulele cover of "Love Will Tear Us Apart"). My favorite is Elephant Elephant. It's about having an elephant.

And then she birthed "Map of Tasmania," and I knew I would never stop loving her. The lyrics are hilarious. The style is totally different from her other songs. And the video is pretty, even though it's about pubes. Amanda Fucking Palmer: what a G.

Pay attention to me on the Internet!

A year and a half ago I decided to write a piece about how lame it is that my blog only has four followers.

I still only have four followers.

I originally didn't tell anyone when I started writing this blog, but then I got tired of that. I know people read it, but few have committed to following it. And no one comments.

It's weird how much of our sense of self-worth is based on people's response to what we project on the Internet.

I am aware that I started this blog as a creative some of my more coherent thoughts, not because I wanted more attention. But I couldn't help getting swallowed by the desire for people to validate my existence by paying attention to me on the Internet. And I don't understand why some of my friends' super lame blogs that they never post in anyway have dozens of followers!

I am aware of how idiotic this is, but I have not yet stopped caring.

But it's not only me! I am mildly annoyed at the response to my blog, but some people seem to only own a camera for the sake of posting photos of their fantastically interesting life on Facebook.

This can't be healthy.