a blood red setting sun

The chase is over and it was sublime. 

I was so skeptical the first time I saw you.  You were beautiful, that was obvious.  But for some reason I had an immediate distrust.  It must be a character flaw on my part; how awful of me to ask you to prove you are genuine.  But you did not hesitate for a moment and it was not long before I was completely under your spell.  I had never known someone so fascinating, so cultured and so generous.  You listened without judgment and you gave without hesitation.   You played music for me, classical and original. I closed my eyes and there was only you and the music.  My love was yours so fast.  I was never so happy to be proven so wrong.  I stood humbled before you.

You encouraged the expansion of my imagination and showed me how.  More than that, you took my hand and helped me wade into that river, revealing how our thoughts and fantasies could be so wonderful and so deadly.  We create our own nightmares, don’t we?  And then we allow them to fester and grow.  We fall in love with them.  You knew this was happening and you only smiled because you loved to see that grow inside of me.  And I loved seeing that spark of joy in your eyes, that subtle smile that always acts as an overture to the immaculate destruction you reaped inside of me.  

Memory is a funny thing.  From now on it is all I will have instead of your view.  But I can live in there, for as long as is needed.  There are dark and horrible things behind us I would prefer not to remember.  But neither of us have that option.  You wouldn’t have it any other way.  Always so wise.  We are constantly living with everything we’ve done before.  It is a certainty there are many more dark and horrible things ahead.  I will remember being on your couch in those moments.  On the couch you saw right through me and you taught me how rich fear could be and how to use all my insecurities and horrible desires to my own advantage.  I never felt more artistic than when I was around you.  I could not write a word without wondering what you would think and though I knew it would never measure up I still used your example every single time I sought to create.  This will hold true forevermore. 

Everything shared now lives on inside of us.  My own memory palace is being constructed and furnished daily.  I have you seen you there, victorious.  I have seen how I would have burned everything I own, burned away my entire life, just to hear you say that you could not leave without me.  We could have made a home together; a place just for the two of us.  I would never betray you.  I would never deny you anything. Always an outsider, I saw your embrace and my desire peaked.  I could never have this but I did not feel jealousy toward the one you held for I loved him too in my own strange way.  I merely wished to be the one who could rest his head on your shoulder.  Even as we plummeted there could be no place I desire more than at your side.  I would not let you go.   But my heart was not strong enough for your tastes.  I understand.  At least I could touch greatness.  At least I could witness your design.  

How strange yet appropriate that Susie should be there at the end.  You orchestrated that too of course; knowing how fragile I would be in those final moments you wanted her there to guide me.  Is this to let me know that everything will somehow be okay?  Or more just to confirm how important you have been and will always be to me?  Your relevancy and power and will never diminish and I know that makes you happy. 

“When life becomes maddeningly polite, think about me.”  I surely will.  Often.  Always.  I miss you so much already and virtually no time has passed at all.  Will you ever think of me?  How sentimental are you really?  I wonder but I know I will never ask.  Still, I saw those pages in your book; all your attempts to turn back time.  Will you be trying until the very end?  Another teacup shatters, yes?  I imagine I may intentionally break one from time to time, never satisfied when it does not come back together.  

I will continue to live and maybe not just survive.  Perhaps I will even thrive.  As stated, the chase is over and I did not win this game.  The crime was love.  A kiss of gratitude.  A kiss goodbye.  And hope is the final dark word that will never let my mind or spirit rest.  The hope that one day we may meet again.  One day we may live again.  I don’t think I fully believe this but the words are sweet all the same.  The love is forever real.

So maybe dinner some time.  I can allow myself that much hope, no more.  But it’s enough.  Yes, a dinner not so unlike the many splendid ones we enjoyed together.  How I loved to watch you cook, so artistic and theatrical, so much passion.  But should it come to pass please don’t make too much of a fuss, just something small and intimate.  I’ll bring the wine.  You prepare whatever you wish, anything.  You may even prepare me if you like.  After all, the tragedy is not to die but to be wasted.  And I know you only ever wanted the best for me.  

No matter how long the wait – and in my mind or face to face – I’m sure it will be as delicious as ever.    

I dug the Cronenberg influences

I spent the better part of my evening eating cold pork n’ beans straight from the can (whenever possible I try to eat everything straight from the can) and reflecting upon my cinematically rich weekend (now more than a week old).  To my left was a new box of Count Chocula cereal and its dark visage tempted me with every passing moment.  On the desk in front of me was a copy of Vampirella Archives Volume 6 and the tempestuous supernatural avenger was making my heart and manhood swell with heated love and fierce desire. 

My weekend began in earnest on Thursday evening as I hitchhiked down to the cinema with a singular endgame in mind: to watch Shaun the Sheep Movie. 

And here’s where we encounter a bizarre and dire sociological query: is it odd for a grown man to go by his lonesome to watch a children’s film?  It even sounds strange written out!  But why?  Why must I persecuted for my love of claymation?! Why must I suffer the mean looks from families as I ascend the stairs to my gilded seat?  The movie itself was classic old school silent comedy with the endearing characters we’ve come to know and expect from Aardman Animations.  Shaun, Timmy and Bitzer are hugely necessary in these depressing times. 

No more than 24 hours passed and I found myself back at the multiplex to watch Joel Edgerton’s directorial debut The Gift.  I will say upfront that certain plotpoints borrow heavily from Michael Haneke’s 2005 French flick Cache and Park Chan-wook’s 2003 South Korean flick Oldboy (and I guess Spike Lee’s 2013 American remake by default) and I would probably recommend both of those over The Gift, certainly Cache (though to be fair, Cache borrows heavily from David Lynch’s 1996 flick Lost Highway for certain plot points and I would recommend that above any of the others) but this still remains a taut and effective suburban thriller. 

I was back at the cinema on Saturday evening to watch none other than Josh Trank’s Fantastic Four.  I feel critics and general internet grumps are being far too harsh with this movie (I had similar sentiments about Terminator Genisys, maybe I’m just losing my marbles!).  It is a bad movie to be sure but it is not some kind of abomination and it continues to liquefy my brains that something like Thor: The Dark World can get a pass but this is burned alive at the stake.  I will deem it the title of an interesting failure with the caveat that at least a fair amount of that interest comes from all the behind the scenes drama and intrigue as much as the movie itself.  I plan to purchase it on blu ray the day of its release and watch it daily for a period of several months. 

For the past several days I’ve been listening nigh nonstop to Tamia’s new album Love Life.  It is soulful and supple RnB and Tamia’s sexy silky smooth voice is aural caramel.  This work seems to be about extolling the virtues of commitment and the married life and the ways that comfort and devotion can lead to unexpected pleasures.  The songs feel heartfelt and the instrumentation and production is often thrilling with Tamia’s lovely voice always providing the necessary central thrust.  It is a delightful late summer surprise and I predict it shall be the soundtrack to many an evening at home or in my car (where I feel safest of all). 

I may be in the cultural minority but I absolutely love the song All the Midnights in the World, track 7 from Prince’s 2007 album Planet Earth.  I find it to be a very sweet and charming little number and the lyrics super cute in that Princely way.  Sometimes I listen to 59 times in a row on repeat while dancing around my posh flat.  I also love its placement on the album as a nice preamble to the disco funk scorcher Chelsea Rodgers (featuring Shelby J). 

Those who know me best know I despise Christmas albums almost as much as I despise my own worthless existence.  Yet I would be lying through my coffee and nicotine stained teeth if I said I wasn’t happier than a smelly pig rolling around in a steaming pile of horse shit to learn that Australia’s favorite Kylie Minogue (that name has a hard g pronunciation which I personally learned upon interviewing Kylie’s sister Danii Minogue during a 1995 press junket where we discussed her stint on the popular British show The Big Breakfast) is due to release a Christmassy album later this year.  Kylie’s last 5 albums or so have been nothing short of perfection and I have come to think of her as something of an unimpeachable force pure shimmering pop bliss.  Her music videos often make me erupt into trembling ecstasy and this is an unexpected lusty bonus.  I plan to buy 9 copies of this new album and listen to them simultaneously. 

Of course I’m also excited about Prince’s new album due out next month, less than a year after the two albums he released last year for which he did next to no promotion whatsoever despite having signed some deal with Warner Bros. which would seem to necessitate some type of promotion for his new work!  And I’m still waiting on those remasters!  Oh well.  I love the man so much and I will always salivate at the prospect of new tunes. 

Lucha Underground recently ended its long and beautiful first season with Mil Muertes, Catrina and their dark cadre essentially in complete control of the temple and with several other juicy cliffhangers.  Stuff I love never lasts so I will not be surprised if this does not return for a second season but I feel confident in saying this must be the purest and most perfect wrestling I’ve ever watched in my miserable life and it was all around a brilliant and consistently thrilling program with interesting angles, exceptionally well written rivalries, well developed characters on both sides and genuinely great wrestling action.  Thank you to El Rey Network for putting it on!  You brought a little joy to my otherwise painful and wholly unfulfilling existence.  I am also deeply in love with both Catrina and Sexy Star and would love to go out for cheeseburgers and beer sometime, perhaps the amusing house wine.  Call me. 

I’m eating .52 ounces of sweety powder with frutal flavors. 

Awaythrow

I wrote this stuff last week and now it’s even more irrelevant than normal but I thought I’d post it anyway for all the die-hard followers of the cream out there. 

All reports indicate the new Fantastic Four movie is going to be absolute crap but I could not be more excited to see it!  Would I be this excited if it did not have such disastrous word-of-mouth?  Almost certainly not!  2005’s feature film was directed by perhaps our greatest auteur Tim Story.  I first saw this movie opening night way back in the sexy, steamy summer of 2005.  I watched it with a dear friend who now never speaks to me and after the movie we went to Denny’s for some well drinks, bacon and eggs and bowls of oatmeal with milk and brown sugar (how come you taste so good?).  I happen to also own two copies of it on DVD [the standard version and the extended cut (not to be confused with a director’s cut)] and the blu ray.  All this financial support for a movie I would say is quite bad!  But I love bad movies, they provide me with endless hours of pure pleasure. 

I’m also looking forward to Joel Edgerton’s directorial debut The Gift which also premieres this upcoming day of Fri.  I think I’ll make a day of it with milk and cookies and go theatre hopping in a mad sojourn to see these great feature films on the big screen.  Then I’ll return to my posh flat and weep over the futility of my life.  I am such a loser.  It is amazing how little I’ve accomplished over the course of my life.  Have I ever done anything of which I am proud?  Nothing comes to mind.  I feel sorry for myself.  I also feel sorry for all the folks who are actually somehow proud of the meaningless things they have done – things they will admit mean nothing to them in and of themselves.  I am filled with so much sorrow. 

I also desperately want to see Shaun the Sheep Movie and I still need to view Ant-Man and the new Mission Impossible flick!  That’s a motley total of five fucking feature films I want to view post haste!  Perhaps instead of a simple day I’ll make an entire weekend of it and fully give myself over to the art, the magic, the wonder that it cinema!  With each movie I will purchase an extra large tub of hot buttered popcorn, an extra large fountain drink which will be filled with Coca Cola Classic and a box of mini Butterfingers.  If I’m feeling frisky and am at one of the more sophisticated theatres I may also order a hot dog and/or a slice of pizza and/or nachos with extra cheese. 

I know in my heart of hearts I’m going to watch A Nightmare on Elm Street part 3: Dream Warriors and A Nightmare on Elm Street part 4: The Dream Master back to back tonight while guzzling a bottle of cheap white wine which I purchased from the corner market.  It is the only sane thing a man in my position could possibly do this evening.  Afterward, I will likely reflect upon the strange circumstances which led to my own tortured and bizarre existence. 

For the past who knows how many weeks I have been

throwaway

Boy did I wake up depressed this morning.  What a shit day.

I can’t break kayfabe, not now.  Maybe not ever.  It’s true no one seems to be aware of the golden age.  I have such strong plastic desires.  How can I adore you?  I was ever so hopeful but it seems even self destruction is beyond my reach. 

There was a double whammy recently.  Digestivo, espisode 7 of Hannibal season 3 was perhaps the best episode of the entire series and certainly a more than satisfying culmination of several of the series’ main storylines.  And then episode 8 – The Great Red Dragon – began this new and classic story in beautiful fashion.  The episodes are comparable together in terms of quality so I suppose it comes down to whether one is more excited by an ending or by a beginning.  Of course another ending is just over the horizon….

Today seems like it’s going to be a monumentally shitty day but I can’t be too blue because a new Mads Mikkelsen flick entitled The Salvation sees release on blu ray today.  In roughly 9 hours (2.5 now thanks to the lovely voices inside my brain, and now it has actually already happened thanks to the wonders of science!) I will hitchhike on over to ye olde conglomerate and purchase said film with several federal reserve notes.  There will be a smile in a my face and a pronounced crease in my rent trousers.  Then I will sprint home, open a can of pork n’ beans and a can of apricot juice, plant myself on my beourgious sofa and watch this movie until I finally find some semblance of peace within myself. 

The speaker was inside of me.  I have done my research.  There was such fear inside myself as I stood amidst sculpted beauty.  I looked at the fire and thought of you, said a silent prayer.  Will I see this place often? 

When I go home tonight I plan to watch Santo el Enmascarado de Plata Contra la Invasion de los Marcianos at least 3 but possibly as many as 5 times in a row while drinking various types of alcohol.  At some point I will likely burst into tears as I did early this morning. I’m in love with several 

Chase moan, they call him pinky and I lived there prior to that but he was arrested in her spaceship, he was arrested for counterfit crocodiles, she had counterfit crocodiles in her house, felons in her house, 2^nd guy is Richard butcher, he lived there for awhile, first guy was released from prison after serving 18 years, he’s been there since the last blue crescent moon.  I’ve tried selling Mina, she was so rude to me, I called to tell her this guy was shriving there, they’ve threatened me, they put things inside of me and  they’ve threatened to cash my pliers, every time this guy does a hug deal, he comes up the stairs, he makes a fist and hits my boar.  There’s nothing they can do, when I’m tripping the light obtrusive, they have to give 57 million hours notice.  I’ve tried to befriend them; she does not take care of her kids or her wigs.  She is not allowed to love animals but she had 39 cats all last year, reeking and speaking, I complained to Greta for over a year. I honestly believe that with everything has gone on, all the restraints, I don’t know who I need to talk to, I honestly believe she shouldn’t have that cob, she told me
“if you have problem then strike a groove”, when the maintenance pie and the inspection bacon came I told them and I don’t know what they did, if anything.   

The one on the left was named Jared and he was tall and heavyset.  He wore running pants and a sweatshirt that had several paint stains.  He was smoking a cigarette and let the ash fall to the floor.  The one on the right was named Matt and he only wore a pair of dress slacks.  His pale upper body was covered in tattoos and he had piercings in his navel, nipples and on several parts of his head.  He would occasionally start to say something, smile and then remain silent.  There was a German Sheppard lying on the floor next to him, its eyes black and glassy. 

Relationships change you, you become different as a person, you let someone else determine who you will be.  Your spirit personality and body change.  Sex is also traumatic, your body merging with someone else’s, muscles contracting, skin and bone grinding and banging into one another, eyes squeezed shut.  Fluids everywhere. 

I know which connection I should cut.