I recently purchased the movies The Iceman and Blancanieves
on blu ray discs at ye old conglomerate.
I stood in the aisle for what felt like minutes though it was actually
hours before I dared walk up to the check-out counter. Working there was a woman who’d rung up my items
probably millions of times before yet I still had never worked up the courage
to even speak a single syllable to her. Instead,
as she scans my items I prefer to stare at her and let the deep grooves of my
sockets do all the talking. Her hips are
generous and her haircut is a style which I would describe and very “cool” and “with-it”. She seems very friendly and sometimes I like
to imagine the two of us escaping the confines of the store with its bright
lights and neutral carpeting. I imagine
us fleeing to my motor vehicle and driving and driving until we reach the southernmost
tip of South America. My fantasies never
involve us stopping at a gasoline station but I know in reality we would have
to do this at some point – probably more than once – and I see myself buying
several sticks of beef jerky as well as some kind of fruit juice while also magnanimously
offering to buy her anything she wanted.
Sometimes I imagine us not making it to South America and instead
stopping somewhere in Mexico where I make a daring attempt to manipulate and
subsequently rob various cartels – meaning to get away with both the drugs and
the money – but I am instead caught and viciously tortured with various parts
of my body being sawed off – including my manhood – while I am kept alive
through extensive use of medicinal drips before being mercilessly burned alive,
my charred and blackened head hoisted onto a pike and paraded through the local
papers as a warning. I am not sure what
happens to her while my life is coming to this gruesome end but I like to
imagine she ends up at a farm somewhere and falls in love with the land and all
the rewarding work it entails. I think
of her meeting a kind hearted farmer with rough but tender hands who treats her
well and gives her the kind love she deserves, the kind of love my worthless
heart would never be capable of providing.
I have heard people say that constant sleeping can be a sign
of depression. Depression is such a
pretentious, precious, artsy thing to go through. I would never admit – even in the course of
slitting the juicy blue veins on my wrists – that I am depressed. All I can say is if I am not at work I am most
likely drinking or sleeping. While
drinking I am typically crying until the alcohol content of my body rises to a
sufficient level where crying is no longer something I can do. Passing out or simply falling asleep is great
because either way I no longer have to face the stark reality of my utterly
failed existence.
Everyone and everything I seek out is just a
substitute. I realized that this very
morning. I saw her amongst the choir and
her voice was clearest of all. She looked
beautiful today as she always does and despite the wall of other instruments
and singers it was her voice which was clearest of all. I wanted to drop down to my knees right in
front of her but shame prevented me from doing anything at all. But I wanted to beg for love and acceptance
and tenderness. I knew I was unworthy but
every part of me was screaming for this.
My mind was a maze of dark corridors filled with these monsters of
desire. Her fingers and lips created
sounds which had never before been produced by earthly creatures. I wondered if she could see directly into me. And if so, how must it look to her? Were her smiling eyes hiding only revulsion
at the sight of the real me? Or was it
possible she could something inside worth saving, maybe even something worth loving?
I have recently been kicking around the idea of buying a
drum machine. I have absolutely no
musical talent whatsoever and do not even know what accompanying programs slash
equipment I would need to purchase in order to get good and proper use of said
drum machine yet all the same I have desires to purchase it. I know it would just be a placeholder to
provide me with some fleeting moments of distracting artificial happiness so I could
temporarily forget what a complete ugly loser I am. The one I am leaning toward is the Alesis
SR16 as I have heard from roughly nineteen hundred and twelve reliable sources
that it is a good entry level machine. My
interest in this purchase was renewed the other day when I was sitting in a bar
and drowning my sorrows which stem from being a fat failure when my drinking
companion and I noticed the television was playing the stellar song “The
Waiting” by Tom Petty & The Heartbreakers.
TP is one of my favorite artists and “The Waiting” is such a good song I
would even go so far as to play it in my car while driving. My friend and I discussed the merits of the
group, going from musician to musician and complimenting them on knowing how to
play just enough to serve the song. We
then focused on the drumming and realized we were unable to discuss at any
great length favorite drummers or analyze their talents. I mentioned Jack Irons from his Pearl Jam days
and he mentioned the drummer from the Deftones. I then told him I am often more
enamored with electronic drum sounds like on some Prince albums or on the new
Nine Inch Nails album. “Nothing wrong with
that,” my friend said. As always, he was
too kind and all the while I was hoping he would break his bottle of Sol on the
counter and use the remaining serrated edge to slice open my throat from ear to
ear and then laugh as my blood gushed out onto the bar and the floor and I drop
to ground, smacking my face against the stool on the way down and then going
into convulsions before dying.
The trailer for the new Robocop movie did not excite me nor
did it offend me. I enjoy the original
but it is nowhere near a favorite so the seemingly generic approach to this new
version on display in the trailer was not a point of contention. There are some good actors in this new movie
which will make me watch it, including Gary Oldman. It also warmed my heart to see Michael Keaton
in this trailer. Michael Keaton warms my
heart.
