Type O Negative Quotes

The days are passing so quickly. This is the only time of year when I want to slow time down. I spend the entire year trying to get here as fast as I can, then once I'm here I want to slam on the brakes. I'm beginning to have those moments when the feel of autumn is so strong it drowns out everything else. Lately it's been making me think about the perfect soundtrack for a Halloween party. The top of any Halloween music list as to be the theme song from the movie Halloween; right on its heels is "Pet Sematary" by the Ramones. For some reason I've always equated the old Van Morrison song "Moondance" with Halloween, too. I love that song. "Bela Lugosi's Dead" by Bauhaus is an October classic, as well as anything by Type O Negative. And Midnight Syndicate. If you've never heard anything by Midnight Syndicate, look them up right this moment. If you distilled the raw essence of every spooky story you ever heard, you would have Midnight Syndicate. I have a friend who swears by them, believing them to be a vital element of any Halloween party. To finish off the list you must have "The Lyre of Orpheus" by Nick Cave and "I Feel Alright" by Steve Earle.

It's better to be hated for who you are, Than to be loved for who you're not.

RICHARD NIXON AND his team of aides had carefully studied George Wallace’s presidential campaigns. They realized that his segregationist banter made him attractive only to “the foam-at-the-mouth-segregationists.” Nixon decided to appeal to these Wallace-type segregationists while also attracting all those Americans refusing to live in “dangerous” Black neighborhoods, refusing to believe that Black schools could be equal, refusing to accept busing initiatives to integrate schools, refusing to individualize Black negativity, refusing to believe that Black welfare mothers were deserving, and refusing to champion Black Power over majority-Black counties and cities—all those racists who refused to believe they were racist in 1968. Nixon framed his campaign, as a close adviser explained, to allow a potential supporter to “avoid admitting to himself that he was attracted by [the] racist appeal.” How would he do that? Easy. Demean Black people, and praise White people, without ever saying Black people or White people.1 Historians have named this the “southern strategy.” In fact, it was—and remained over the next five decades—the national Republican strategy as the GOP tried to unite northern and southern anti-Black (and anti-Latina/o) racists, war hawks, and fiscal and social conservatives. The

Alice felt drunk on the idea of how many of her friends smoked, how adult they had all seemed and felt. How the cigarettes had been giant flashing signposts, to themselves and each other. you could never trust someone who smoked Marlboro Lights, the Diet Coke of cigarettes-those were for the girls with pale lipstick and overplucked eyebrows, the girls who maybe also played volleyball and had sex with their boyfriends in their beds which were still covered with stuffed animals. Girls who smoked Parliments were neutral-it was as close as you could get to not smoking, but still, you could flick your thumb against the recessed filter, and you could bum one to anybody, the Type O negative of smoking. Girls who smoked Marboro Reds were wild-those were for the girls who had no fear, and in their whole school, there was only one, a tiny girl with brown, wavy hair to her waist whose parents had been in a cult and then escaped. Newport girls were equally harsh but listened to hip-hop, and those girls, like Phoebe, wore lipstick and nail polish like vampire blood, rich and purple. Newport Lights girls were like that, only virgins. The girls who smoked American spirits were beyond everyone-they were grown-ups. with keys to their boyfriends' houses. Alice had to laugh at the secret rooms of her brain, where this information lived and had been sleeping. She had smoked Newport Lights, and yes, she was a virgin.

Lying in bed, the gothic band Type O Negative leaked from Adriana’s room and into mine.

It's bad poetry executed by people that can't sing. That's my definition of Rap.

In case you didn’t know, my new vampire friends are so convinced they are real, they avoid the sun at all costs! Now that's dedication! My train of thought was interrupted when he asked me: "What blood type are you?" "Um, I'm not sure Vladimir?" "He's my blood type so back off BAT!" "As you wish my Queen, nice to have met you, Phil!" He smiled, bowed down to me or maybe her, and then very stereotypically swooped away from our presence in a gush of wind in the wrong direction. "Um, was he going to the restaurant, because he's going the wrong way?" "No, he's going the right way, he just likes to lurk in the shadows and hide in the background to observe his prey, I mean friends!" "He has friends?" "Of course, my love, he really is a sweet person if you live long enough to get to know him!" The look on my face must have given me away because she laughed and gave me a sweet kiss from her lips and said: "Type O negative, sweet, I knew you were my blood type, and don't worry lover, his real name is Marvin, and he wouldn't hurt a fly" she said with a cackling laugh! "And try not to worry my love, he only thinks he's a vampire!" "Well to be fair, you think you're a witch!" I teasingly said to her.

It’s as though the gentle reggae strains of Bobby McFerrin’s “Don’t Worry, Be Happy” have been sped up to a ska beat, and both worrying and unhappiness are now treated not just as a taboo but as an affliction you have a responsibility to treat. Curmudgeonly remarks, high-strung habits, and skepticism once merely meant you were a certain type of person, negative but relatively harmless, like Oscar the Grouch from Sesame Street. But these days, “grouchiness” is often encountered as a condition for which you require intervention: a prescription, more meditation, more self-care, a subscription to O, The Oprah Magazine.

Non confondete la mancanza di talento per genialità

Thank you for saving me from my self Your compassion became its own hell Unequally beautiful inside and out Without a doubt

If you fall, I will catch you When you're lost, I'll be there soon Far away, but of course near When you're sad, I'm always here