Last time I gave you guys a status report, it was the friday that I discovered that I was not cut out to be America's next top dancer. So, let me give you the recap
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Last night I had this really odd dream. My best friend and her boyfriend and I went to some sort of Venice-like city, and you were there. We ran (often literally) all over the city, me with a video camera for some reason. You and I got separated from Roseanne and Brad, and wound up in the bar/restaurant area of some hotel. We started dancing, Argentine tango I believe, which is strange considering as far as I know, neither of us knows Argentine tango. You were wearing a hat at one point; possibly your Napoleon hat but navy blue. You were tall, and I commented on that, but then you indicated your shoes which were really high boots.
(Posted again because I needed to fix typos)croatiarulesJanuary 3 2007, 19:35:51 UTC
"Apparently, though, Stefanie has sealed the record deal with EMI and had a huge celebratory party with Coldplay and Janet Jackson and everybody knew her by name. Wow. And to think, I dated a woman who will soon be famous
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Re: (Posted again because I needed to fix typos)croatiarulesJanuary 3 2007, 19:36:13 UTC
And what's more - throughout all this horrible process, there will be sleazy, unsavory executives assuring Stephanie that she is golden, and she is so talented, and she is the world's next star. And maybe it's true and maybe it's not, I don't know her - but they're not telling her that because it is true. They're telling her that because they don't want her to see just how thoroughly they've fucked her, and how much they will continue to fuck her until she is spent and useless to them. And, god forbid, if that time ever comes, then all the kindnesses will suddenly stop, with no explanation, or apology, or anything.
I don't envy her. I don't envy anyone that signs to a major label. It's a horrible, corrupt system of artistic slavery and rather than cater to it, people should start taking advantage of the steadily progressing trend of internet publication. Sure, the fame isn't there, and fame is important to a lot of people - even me, very much so. But I'm not so certain it is worth selling your soul.
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Last night I had this really odd dream. My best friend and her boyfriend and I went to some sort of Venice-like city, and you were there. We ran (often literally) all over the city, me with a video camera for some reason. You and I got separated from Roseanne and Brad, and wound up in the bar/restaurant area of some hotel. We started dancing, Argentine tango I believe, which is strange considering as far as I know, neither of us knows Argentine tango. You were wearing a hat at one point; possibly your Napoleon hat but navy blue. You were tall, and I commented on that, but then you indicated your shoes which were really high boots.
Like I said. Odd.
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Gangbanged by a train of greasy investors. Enslaved. Sold into indentured servitude.
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I don't envy her. I don't envy anyone that signs to a major label. It's a horrible, corrupt system of artistic slavery and rather than cater to it, people should start taking advantage of the steadily progressing trend of internet publication. Sure, the fame isn't there, and fame is important to a lot of people - even me, very much so. But I'm not so certain it is worth selling your soul.
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