Sometime on Sunday

Today felt a bit different from previous days.  At some point during the week there came a moment when I was speaking with someone and they were asking me work related questions while also attempting to have a genuine conversation and I found myself unable to respond. 

I teared up today while thinking about the final scene of the movie Twin Peaks: Fire Walk With Me and I teared up even more while listening to the songs “Cabecita Loca” and “Los Aviones No Pueden Volar” by Amaral.  When I heard the harmonica, the sonically lush guitars and then Eva’s voice I was able to imagine a world that was born from this music, a place I could inhabit where the tactile senses met the aural and I would be able to feel her voice press up against my body.  Truth be told for roughly the first five hours of the day I was holding back hot tears.  My life is long stretches of misery punctuated by moments of unbelievable horror. 

The full length trailer for the movie Riddick was released on the net of inter this week and I watched it no less than two hundred and fifty-seven times on my iphone 4 while at a strange apartment complex that I do not call home.  I recall seeing Pitch Black nearly a millennia ago when it first graced the big screen and I remember loving every millisecond of the film as it was a stylish and fresh sci-fi romp.  I eagerly awaited the sequel – The Chronicles of Riddick – with so much anticipation that I nearly chewed off my own tongue at the sheer intensity of the emotion.  However Chronicles turned out to be a movie so horrible that it still haunts my every grim waking moment while waiting even stronger for me in my gory and violently sexualized nightmares.   In one of the increasingly rare instances where the public at large dares to agree with one of my always controversial opinions the movie pulled disappointing numbers at the office of box and plans to continue film series were put on hold. 

Still, I must commend the dark hearts of Mr. Diesel and the director whose name I am disrespectfully forgetting right now because they never gave up the belief in this character slash mythology and its potential for future movies and now we have this third chapter coming in the merry month of September.  Savvy folk (and me) know that September is something of a dumping ground for movies – though not quite as notorious as January – but that does not immediately concern me because every once in a while comes a September movie that stirs my and soul and sole with a potent mix of gore, violence and tight scripting.  Machete fulfilled this a few years ago and Dredd made my testicles dissolve and ooze out of my rent trousers with its sheer awesomeness (Dredd is one of my new favorite movies and I typically watch it on a nightly basis while eating roughly 5 bowls of frosted flaked with chopped up bananas and strawberries.  What is so neat is that Karl Urban – who was amazing as Judge Dredd – is also in these Riddick movies). 

I am feeling so close to her now at certain moments and it is a wonderful thing.  And then when I do something that pushes me away from her the energy that swirls around in my head is much grimmer than it otherwise would be.  New darkness coming from new light and new pain resulting from new pleasure is a scary and somehow amazing concept. 

I was driving around Yakima (the Palm Springs of Washington) the other day and was struck by the consistency of beggars.  On the corner of every major intersection – sometimes facing one another – was a seemingly homeless man with a long beard, cardboard sign hanging over his chest and a mug or baseball cap held out in his hand.  As cars stopped for red lights or slowed to turn he/they would politely ask for money.  I was in the inside lane and unable to reach my hand out that far.  As I drove around Yakima I happened upon some neighborhoods and streets which were quite lovely.  Despite what I frequently hear about the levels of violence and crime within that city I am quite convinced that I could be happy there, at least for a while.  And anyway, don’t we all on some level want to live in a crime ridden area?  I drove through these areas with my windows rolled down and I was listening to the most recent Iron Maiden (live, not studio) album.  I was feeling very good for about four minutes and saw a blue sky, thoroughly modern apartments and green trees swaying in the wind.  For the following two minutes I had to almost stop driving completely as an image flashed through my brain of the sky turning red and black and the trees and buildings catching fire.   There was white noise all around and I too was burning in this image, my skin boiling and popping, my hair bursting into flames and my face smoldering and melting off.  Still, through all this I was somehow able to continue screaming and screaming but no one ever came to save anything.

I met an absolutely beautiful woman somewhere in Yakima that day.  She was wearing a gold necklace and a gold bracelet and I complimented her on these even though I really wanted to compliment her on her hair.  It was black and mostly pulled back with some hanging down the right side of her face and it was somehow messy and orderly at the same time.  At one point – though I’m not sure if it was the same day or a previous day, maybe even a day afterward – she called me “mijo” and I imagined the oceans and stars contained in her eyes and the universes she must hold in the palms of her gentle hands.   

I love all the hatred Kim Kardashian has been receiving for being pregnant.  Maybe I should choose a random, non-famous woman who is pregnant and decide to hate her for no reason.  It shouldn’t be too hard given how often people fuck around and make babies “by accident” because they are so intent on getting off and have no actual ambition or means of supporting themselves.  What stupid things we are.  In my mind I’m telling someone that they are not nearly as attractive as before.  How is it possible that none of us has any self-control anymore?  There is a river outside of my room and I can see it from the balcony.  It makes me think of another river.