"Without music, life is a journey through a desert"

Stopping By Woods On A Snowy Evening

Whose woods these are I think I know.
His house is in the village though;
He will not see me stopping here
To watch his woods fill up with snow.
My little horse must think it queer
To stop without a farmhouse near
Between the woods and frozen lake
The darkest evening of the year.
He gives his harness bells a shake
To ask if there is some mistake.
The only other sound's the sweep
Of easy wind and downy flake.
The woods are lovely, dark and deep.
But I have promises to keep,
And miles to go before I sleep,
And miles to go before I sleep.

Christina in GQ Magazine

She has a new album coming out. And at the risk of being cliche, it's clear the Aguilera publicity machine believes that sex sells records.

They might be right. They might be wrong. I'm not complaining either way.