I am falling deeply in love with Mads Mikkelsen and I do not
know where this love will take me.
I remember dearly the sound of sleep. It was one of
the most beautiful things I have ever heard. I burst into tears at
the thought of never hearing it again.
The questions came – as they invariably do – and I did my best
to provide honest answers. Still, lies always have a way of sneaking
through no matter how hard I try. Did I recognize the dangers
inherent in my actions? Of course I did. I always
do. But I never exert any self-control. I am just like everyone
else in that regard. We all do exactly what we want. Everything
was magenta and black and a strange and wonderful color I could not identify. I
stared into it as long as possible but always had to look away as it began to
hurt my eyes and damage my insides somehow. Combinations which
emphasize tactile and olfactory sensations often yield the best and stickiest
results. It is especially that latter aspect which I find most
mysterious and captivating in this particular instance. I can feel
everything changing, the way the air changes right before a storm. Is
it even possible we would be willing to open ourselves up to such simultaneous
dangers and pleasures? Is there any version who actually knows the
desires of the hidden heart? There is so much blackness and subjugation
and endless trails of shining leather and soft lace. How is it that
I could ever hope to rest my face against the polished steel of such honeyed
and abrasive words? I waited so very long. She is looking
down when she tells me to kiss it.
There is no one with any strength left. I have come
to believe there may be no one hearing the thoughts inside my head. There
is singing and harmonizing and my desires are filthy and deranged. Electricity
courses through my veins and I am unable to differentiate between the human and
machine sides of myself. I gesticulate and fling my limbs about in a
matter which can scarcely be labeled as “dance” or even anything approaching
rhythmic. Rather, it is much closer to a seizing or perhaps
convulsions before a much anticipated conclusion or unexpected
transformation. I was driving when I realized that every single
thing in the entire world grinds me down with inadequacies and perhaps no one
or nothing is more culpable in this matter than yours truly. I began
to grip the wheel with one arm crossed over the other – exactly how we had been
instructed not to do while back in ye old driving school
(where I first learned the dangers of ingesting certain chemical
compounds). For the next seventeen minutes I had no less than four
thousand eight hundred and fifty-nine separate urges to drive my car into some
fatally hard surface such as a brick wall or thick meaty telephone pole. I
even considered steering it off a bridge and laughed maniacally at the thought
of the uncontrolled descent and the cold water which would blanket my final
moments. What has happened to all of us? How can there be
so much wasted ambition and useless lives in such an easy place? So
many coupons and free rides and government dollars and smoke and condoms and
secretions and accidental babies. I am never not amazed at how many
of us make monumentally idiotic decisions over and over again out of
fear. Pathetic and repulsive are such polite words which do a disservice
to the magnificence of the disease. I woke up in the middle of the
night not too long ago and saw my bedroom door open even though I always close
it before going to bed. There was a figure standing in the doorway,
silhouetted by the meager moonlight spilling in through the window
blinds. I saw long and unmaintained hair which may have been grey or
white and noted broad shoulders and a large build but could make out no other
details. I could not even discern if I was looking at a man or a
woman.
I am fairly certain someone attempted to murder me today while I
was at work by slipping an untraceable poison into my water bottle which would
have made me appear to have a simple and common heart attack. But I
clutched my jiggly belly, threw my head back and laughed heartily after dumping
the water down the sink and throwing away the water bottle. People
can try and kill me but I will never die. No matter how close I get
I will always rise from the ashes once more.
Recently I purchased the album “S & M” by Metallica. It
is a 2 disc live set where the boys in blue tear through some of their most
revered classics replete with orchestral accompaniment. Those who
know me best know I have a particular brand of hatred for rock musicians who
attempt to shoehorn orchestra into their songs. All those strings
are simply never necessary and only give the music a rank and sour odor of
cheese left out in a humid room. My initial reaction to this set was
positive but I am beginning to wonder if this was simply a reaction to having a
new (to me) and live Metallica album to feast on with my ear holes. Subsequent
listens have proven less immediately satisfying and more and more the string
arrangements have become aggravating. As is the case on 99% of
albums like this they sound forced in there for absolutely no reason and
clutter the music in really disgusting ways. We shall see over the
coming decades how my views on this album change. Kylie Minogue actually
released a similarly styled live album a year or two ago which turned our far
superior and does not fall within that 99%. Does this mean Kylie
Minogue is better than Metallica? It’s hard to say in this day and
age.
Oh sweet Gloria. The sound of a lusty chainsaw lops
off the top of my head and my pleasure sensors are tapped and stimulated by
sharp and brightly colored nails until the ground is nothing but glistening puddles
at your glorious nylon covered feet.
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