Last
week’s episode of Hannibal – entitled “Futamono” – has taken the place of “Sorbet”
from Season 1 as my favorite episode of the series. It was a perfect mix of elegant horror,
beautiful gore, compelling and plausible character development, genuinely
intriguing revelations and absurdist humor. The last dinner scene in particular may be my
favorite scene of the series thus far and showcased this blend of humor, horror
and classicist sensibilities which fills me with joy. I am still stunned by how cinematic this show
is, top to bottom from the production design to the score to the photography it
is a gorgeous thing to behold. It is
impossible to know how the quality of this program will change as time goes (if
it lasts more than this season) and also impossible to know how my critical eye
will view it years from now after all is said and done. However at this moment I can say with certainty
that Hannibal is one of the most artistic, beautiful and fully realized shows I
have ever seen in my life. I doff my hat
to Bryan Fuller for his design and all actors involved – particularly the trio
of Hugh Dancy, Mads Mikkelsen (swoon) and Lawrence Fishburne for their
impeccable work.
In the bedroom they lie next to each other. Clay is naked with the sheets only partially
covering him. The only light coming into the room is what has leaked in
from the part in the curtains. He can see enough of himself to remember former feelings of
shame when in this state. He still does not prefer the lights to be on for this. Janine still has her shirt on for some reason and
she is lying on her stomach. Her head is against the coverless pillow and her bleached
hair has spilled across her face, somehow leaving one eye perfectly uncovered. The sounds of the room include their breathing and
faint music coming from laptop speakers.
The scattered, almost incoherent pastiche feel of The
Beatles’ White Album and gives my brain a comfortable tickle. Sometimes when my day devolved into a pure pile of
smelly shit I like to listen to “Ob-La-Di, Ob-La-Da”, screaming the lyrics
until it feels like my throat is going to tear apart and pounding my chest like
King Kong. This always makes me feel better. What is especially is that the follow-up song is
“Wild Honey Pie” which makes me want to slit my wrists in a vertical fashion
and then and then try to eat a tall stack of pancakes with its awesomeness. Pancakes are my life. Though I do truly love The White Album I think I prefer that feel just a little more from Trout Mask Replica by Captain Beefheart. I strongly encourage fans of either album (but
not necessarily artist) to check out the other.
It’s become detrimental to other people in the neighborhood.
Losing penance because these particular remnants cannot sing a song. Back alley glove compartment is looking for false
allegations. A beach dwelling super gang with futuristic weapons from
another world is working with the glove compartment. When I
get all cohorts back, we will be germinating these cognacs.
Everything stems from successful
communication and it is my honor and privilege to be a part of this ever
expanding field. I hope that one day I can use my experiences and opportunities
to further advance this and contribute to a stronger, more aware society.
My sophomore year of college, I decided to take a class about Hispanic culture. It was in an effort to learn more about myself and my history, but the experience turned into something much more. It tore a hole in our universe. I feel so scared when the voices from there start to speak to me. I start to cry and I hide under a table and I close my eyes and I pray she will come to protect me. Why can’t everybody just leave me alone?! I want to start the play off with talk about steak, then segue to talk about women, racism, and politics; this play is about an application transaction and the many foibles of love’s unedifying spirit. It is also about the time I rode my 59 speed dirt bike to the top of the mountain, looked down and realized everything I thought existed was actually an elaborate hoax perpetrated by cabals of government agents who wore slick black suits and whose speech patterns were slash are replete with outdated slang. They are everything.
Once
I thought my dreams were dead so I baked them in a loaf of bread. I owe that mistake to none other than
gubernatorial candidate and fresh faced filmmaker Steven Spielberg. Sometimes I laugh so hard my brain actually liquefies
and stains my hand woven argyle socks which were made by strange little in faraway
places. Of course he would ask me what
it is all for when we can alter biology and I would only repeat the same line
over and over again until we were both beating each other with newly purchased
spaghetti strainers. I’ve become so buff
these past thousand weeks or so, I can’t believe how jacked I am, my muscles
are so large they take up the spacial equivalent of the majestic Yorkshire blue
whale (boilerplate boilerplate).
There
used to be so many words and they flowed so freely. I have taken a trip to a dark and promising
past and I have wept uncontrollably for a darker and meaningless present. Where has he gone? I don’t think I will ever see him again. It is no secret that people who are at younger age, younger
meaning when they are coming into their own physically during their formative
years, are better suited to produce children. After all there is a reason those years between a person
being a teenager and going into their twenties are referred to as their
“physical prime”. My sweet Pearl,
where did you go? Are you happy
now? Do you remember what I made for you
during those long, hot nights where I thought of nothing more than you and I? How brief the encounter. I have never been able to keep anything for
very long. I can feel myself starting to
slip away little by little. My mind is
no longer my own. My life never was. I ran
out of excuses a long time ago.
My caloric intake seems to be in the
safe range with respect to DRIs but I do have a problem with binging on the
weekends and then the numbers increase to unsafe levels. Obviously, I have more
free time on weekends so I need to concentrate on other things rather than
excessive eating. Additionally my nutrient intake is about half good, half bad.
I am often low on fiber and most of the vitamins. I know this is because my
diet is severely lacking in fruits and vegetables so those are things I need to
make a strong effort to incorporate more into my eating habits. Sometimes I even put on a chicken and run
around my living room screaming out profanity laced rants against psychotic
left wing extremists who want to turn the country into a pink land of unshaved
faces and hip t-shirt slogans. Every single
night I realize how alone I truly am. I scream
every day and every night and no one hears and my face is starting to fall off
and I feel anxious and frightened all the time and I don’t think I know what
anything means anymore.
Only
Leonard’s Concrete can make support this sexy.
