Cory, Cory, Cory....is there no escape? Your greasy hair, your grungy clothes, your amusing facial expressions, each alone does not = amazing. Yet you are greater than the sum of your parts. Your divine essence is a siren's song that I can no longer pretend I am eluding. With your trash compactor-garbled beauty, you bewitch my very soul. Cast off the oppression of a world ruled by delicate features and carefully co-ordinated pieces!
Cory Kennedy, you are Style.
Tuesday, September 16, 2008