He's so swishy (I don't have that level of potential because I have no potential!)

These are all just fragments and meaningless, just like my utterly meaningless life. 

Hunky Dory is 45 today!  Oh how I love that one.  It is happening right now around me, pure inspiration, art, beauty.  Everything. 

Windy took control of everything recently.  Boy, did she ever take control.  Magicians and lovely clowns.  What have I done?  And now the Magic Moon again.  I will never be in control.  And I will never be free.  That peach though.  I did not take a bite out of the peach today.  That is the only victory to which I can lay claim. No, I am totally wrong.  Because soon after I did take a bite of peach.  And what came afterward was hollow and lifeless.  None of the preceding had anything to do with being wild at heart though I understand if one were to make that confused assumption.  Why did you have to make a fresh pot of coffee?! 

I liked and sometimes loved many (all) of the albums which came after but I feel confident in saying that Prince’s 2001 album The Rainbow Children was his last masterpiece.  What an emotional ride. 

 I recently finished The Flash season 2 and did not find it as satisfying as season 1.  Specifically, the main villain’s motivation and history was beyond convoluted and nonsensical which wouldn’t necessarily be so much of a problem if (sentence unfinished).  Still, I remain an avid fan of the program and its delightful silver age slant and sensibilities.  In my effort to continue catching up on all the superhero TV shows I recently began Legends of Tomorrow and found the first two episodes to be replete with good clean and colorfully bombastic superheroics!  Consider me a fan, dear loyal readers!  I also fell truly madly deeply in love with CHAY-ARA.  I need her! 

Yes, everything hunky dory!  I so need it.  Thank you again, thank always for the rest of my miserable pathetic life.  Look at those cavemen go!  I couldn’t do it without you!  None of it!  Fuck!    

I never considered until now that the whore might be time itself, first flexing and then punching.  I suppose that was patrol though.  Still, that fits in a way I never would or could have considered before due to my debilitating ignorance.    

So the new trailer for Spider Man Homecoming came out very recently. Michael Keaton!  Yes!!!  Playing the Vulture!  The man could not be more meta.  Vulture is a man in a bird costume.  Keaton played Batman (still the best one) in 89 and 92.   Years later he starred in Alejandro Inniratu’s Birdman, where he played an actor who previously played a superhero in a bird costume.  That movie also made general jokes about the genre including chief stars like Robert Downey Jr and of course it was impossible not to connect it with Keaton’s own filmography.  And now Keaton plays a straight superhero villain who dresses in a bird costume in a movie co-starring Robert Downey J.!  Brilliant!  He can’t get more meta!  I love him!!!  And yes, he’s better than Bale, no fucking contest! 

“Just in case,” she said.  and like that I melted as though my body were made of soft calcium left out in the sun too long on the last day of the hottest month in a classic leap year.  Just in case. As in, just in case you didn’t get the memo.  As in, just in case I wasn’t sexy enough for you already.  As in, just in case you wear too many pairs of shoes on the wrong day.  I fantasized about being electrocuted and then I laughed heartily when I turned the wrong way on a one way street.  It was like having a heart attack on a one way street (whatever the hell that means!)!  A Czech now controls my bank account. Art official age fucked up when it was in my car.  Why does my life have to be so hard!?  The thrashing of legs. 

I started reading Jack Ketchum’s book Ladies’ Night yesterday.  It is slim book and I read about half of it and should be able to finish it today.  I’ve wrote a fair amount about Ketchum recently after reading his first novel – Off Season – and finding it to be a sweaty and grueling slab of hard horror that I absolutely adored.  And I am so far finding Ladies’ Night to be right on par for that course!  I’ve ordered a couple more of his books and hope to literally devour them at some point in the future of my miserable life.  What a writer!  When it comes to Ketchum I gotta ketchum all!  I finished that book. 

Lovesexy.  That is everything.  Anna Stesia.  Glam Slam.  Title. 

I don’t really know him, never could, never will.  How utterly proper. 

It all comes back again.  This is the third time in as many times.  This time the almighty and awesome importance of white belts truly came into play.  And the cancerous cuts were glory.  Braided.  Coffee drinker, says not I, at all mad hours of the day.  If only it were possible to segue.  Rhinoceroses were charging through then and replacing one, old hat now.  And she knows. 

I should have ordered the elephant man.  What an idiot I am.  Idiot is my chief role in life.  We are long overdue for that apocalypse so these prognostics please me to no end. 

The Annunciation.  Gabriel appears at some very critical times. 

McAslin was the last key player then.  The one who would set off the final explosion. 

We’ve arrived at the final station.  I’m still not quite sure who will connect me with love. 

Finally, Nine Inch Nails announced new music earlier today.  Not a bad way to end a largely miserable year. 

I saw Star Wars: Rogue One last night.  On Monday I went to see Nocturnal Animals.  On Tuesday I went to see Dr. Strange.  I did not like these movies evenly.  Mads Mikkelsen was in two of them. 

9311.  this is a reference in volving time (the).  But the key of course is something hidden and as it relates to an unrelated text.  Would it be a sin?  I suspect so.

I love Soda Stereo.  I need to learn some of their basslines.  Persiana Americana.  What a tune!  It defines it all!  The thing from earlier!  Help me to stop!  I paid them more to stop! 

So it appears doubling down on the muses is in order.  Chuckles to himself, I think I would love to come and die in sweetest sin.  He was thinking about smooching Hawkgirl while a Peter Gabriel song played but that has nothing to do with this.  I couldn’t pick a favorite.  Homo sapiens have outgrown their use, so true.  Don’t believe in yourself.  How could I possibly single out only one?  Is life on mars the greatest thing ever?  But this has nothing to do with anything.  I was talking about him doubling down.  Wonderful.  Perfect.  Muses galore.  Explosions at the gates, whatever that means.  And ever the appropriately unsatisfying spurt. Please, can we meet just once at a costume ball?  If only he could have shared those raspberry delights.  White belts.  Heaven help us all.  Always thoughts of hosiery.  Don’t go back.  That coffee jacked me up.  My friend said he saw it happen.  He told me.  He made this other thing happen.  Even after I changed races and threw my ring into a river in Italy.  Oh bella, bella, bella.  Why?  Fucking why?!  

kitchen

Is Plectrumelectrum a defacto sequel to Chaos and Disorder?  I don’t know!  Is Blackstar a defacto sequel to 1.Outside?  I don’t know that either?  Is Nine Inch Nails’s Year Zero the spiritual successor to David Bowie’s Diamond Dogs?  I don’t know that either but it sometimes sounds like it maybe possibly could be!  Does anything I say make any fucking sense anymore whatsoever?  I suspect not.  I listened to the album The Will to Death the other night while I was typing.  I really like that album.  Actually, I love it.  I cried afterward and was only comforted by the thought of ending it all. 

I just learned that Robert Eggers is set to write and direct a remake of the 1922 classic Nosferatu.  Normally, I would be against such a remake as the vast majority of remakes – particularly in the horror genre – are limpdick piles of shit!  But after The Witch I have nothing but complete and utter faith in Eggers and now anticipate this project with great relish and sauerkraut.  Of course, I’m being a bit of a moron (even more than usual somehow) as Werner Herzog already crafted a perfectly great remake of his own in 1979.  Boy I’m stupid!  I think I’ll pick up the new A Tribe Called Quest album very soon.  Then I will listen to it in my car (where I feel safest of all).  Metallica’s new album and Little Mix’s new album also both came out today.  I am more excited for Little Mix. 

I gave it up of course. He is now able to simply…I don’t know.  I lost interest in the train of thought.  You know, I find war movies to be dreadfully uninteresting.  He was able to go there though.  He was able to go and not make the usual requests and everything worked out just fine.  It was a lovely liquid dinner.  It is the anniversary of sorts for Pearl Jam’s 2002 album Riot Act.  You know, I really do like this album, lots o lovely songs with some great rockers, some great deep cuts.  I fucking love that record!  Don’t really know what more I can say!  I just don’t know.  I watched the movie Red Desert the other day.  I think it may have some sci fi elements but then part of me thinks I’m completely wrong.  Oh God, all these moments, that is my life.  That’s all there is.  I love alienation.  Pura calentura.  Discovery never ceases. 

I dreamed about The Jackal last night.  I think at some point a Tsunami washed me away. 

I recently watched the movie The Secret in Their Eyes.  The original and not the piece of shit American remake.  I was blown away again like a field of corn in a high wind.  I loved it so much I wanted to shoot myself in the face with a really big gun afterward to only leave behind a horrifically deformed piece of head with my brain matter splattered all over the walls.  Such is the nature of wisdom.  There was one scene where Soledad Villamil wore hosiery and I nearly died.  I just remembered I watched a great movie on a plane at some point but I can’t remember the title!  Why am I so useless? 

The new trailer for Kong: Skull Island was so good it made me want to take a shit in my trembling hand and then consume that recently expelled excrement, washing it down with a hot shot of Sauza gold tequila.  Seriously, the trailer is that good.  Well, I guess it’s not that good but it got me excited anyway.  Here’s hoping it doesn’t turn out like that limp dick American Godzilla flick from a couple years back!  The new Spears music video!  Yowza!  Boing!!!

I recently acquired Skeleton Tree, the new album from Nick Cave and the Bad Seeds.  Truth be told it’s been out for a couple months but I am a very new Cave and Seeds fan and as such I was behind in the moment of this release.  I listened to it today while writing some crap.  It is impossible for me to listen to this album without considering what happened in Cave’s personal life during the time of its writing and recording.  As such, am I ascribing too much despondency to the work?  Deeper analysis is necessary.  I speak from a place of ignorance as I am just beginning to know this artist and their repertoire but it sounds akin to their 2013 album Push the Sky Away which is an album I am growing ever more fond of.  It also raises interesting questions that I will ask myself while sitting alone in the living room of my posh flat and.  I think about Blackstar and how unique an experience I had.  For those first three days I heard the darkness but it gave me hope of a bizarre and wonderful new beginning.  Were these occult leanings?  Were we playing with something awful?  So much boundless creativity.  And then a truth was revealed and suddenly the darkness took on an entirely different meaning and I will never again be able to experience it as I did initially.  This is the fascinating face of art, that the same piece is constantly changing based on your own shifting perspective.  What is Blackstar to someone who left this plane earlier than that Sunday but who could still listen?  Or to someone who acquired it and then shut him or her self off entirely from society?  What is it to someone who acquired it the week after and what will it be to those who listen to it for the first time 1 year or 10 years or 100 years from now?  It will be the first thing for some.  Getting back to Skeleton Tree, that song I Need You makes me ache.  Getting back to Blackstar, it sometimes scares me. 

I’ve been a fool.  I see that now clear as the muddy day.  Blood still thick with narcotics.  I need to remember love sexy.  I need to get Lovesexy in my heart again.  Maybe a walk through the heart.  I’ve spent too much time in the black.  I need something naked with flowers. 

He is a prisoner.  Oh what a sad sad prisoner.  The other one needs to get used to the face.  He always had a firmer head on his shoulders.  There was something quite bizarre taking place.  A bit of inside communication.  Inside baseball.  So obvious, she said.  please do not be discouraged by this sudden change.  Lack of attention is a new kind of compliment.  Must escape from this macabre…. Balls of grease control everything.  What a sad pathetic world.  He is the poster child. 

Good ol’ Steve says humans only have about 1000 years left on earth.  That seems like far far more than we deserve and I hope his estimates are greatly exaggerated.  After my ninth cup of repulsive NesCafe I was driving around and gurning and screaming my lungs out while looking at all the neon lights and listening to the song Touch Me and for the briefest of moments everything felt all right! 

My morning was full of dopplegangers and strange, distressing occult symbols.  And a new sister.  White and black.  Easy to remember and reshape.  Family affair.  Sly.  Drugs on the tape.  My hands are shaking.  It is an ass for the ages.  

held close while it is siphoned out (so oddly loving, and what language?)

I very recently finished Jack Ketchum’s excellent novel Off Season.  My sweaty fingers were turning the yellowed brittle pages so rapidly I nearly bled out from the plentiful papercuts!  What a book!  Ketchum has ketched my imagination and put a spell on me!  Upon completion I immediately hitchhiked over to Barnes & Noble Booksellers to order 19 more of his books which should arrive by the end of business Tuesday.  Standard unspoken rules of hitchhiking mandated that I pay the generous driver with gas, grass or ass so I dutifully dropped my rent trousers and allowed my sweet puckery hindquarters to be mercilessly pummeled as a means of reciprocity.  No joke though folks: Ketchum’s book was highly inspiring and exactly the kind of pulp literary horror that gets my blood pumping something fierce!

The other day I listened to the album L.A. Woman by the Doors (or simply Doors as the cover sleeve states) and concluded it to be my 3^rd favorite Doors disc.  Though therein lies the rub.  Because on its day I think it could edge past Strange Days but only on its day.  Additionally, on The Soft Parade’s day I think The Soft Parade could edge past L.A. Woman (but likely never past Strange Days) so what does that mean exactly?!  Regardless, L.A. Woman is a grimy, gritty, greasy, sweaty, cigarette and especially hard liquor stained bluesy corker of an album. No, not bluesy, BLOOZEY!  Yeah, that’s more like it.  It may not be as greasy as some Tom Waits or Captain Beefheart records but it is plenty oily, make no mistake.  Man, I just fucking love that album.  I listened to it while driving and rarely thought about blowing my brains out.  I love those deep cuts.  Morrison’s voice is in fine worn out ragged form and the band (with invaluable assistance from bassist Jerry Scheff) sounds tight as a rat bastard! 

I paid her a pretty penny and as part of the arrangement we made she spoke with a Brooklyn accent during our time together.  Her hair was black.  Sno-cones.  The tips always reminded me of Sno-cones but I tell ya that I didn’t really miss em.  When my airways were right and properly constricted and with the right amount of taunts applied I tell ya that I was doing just fine without em.  I must again give hearty thanks to Allen Gant.  I tell ya, Mr. Gant, if we meet in the next life the first 457-thousand rounds are on me! 

I think I’ll read The Naked Lunch now!  Look at me!  Look at how well-read and cultured and sophisticated I am!  I know more about art in any of its forms than anyone I know and that’s because I’m the best and everyone else is a close minded, simpering, needy, mouth-breathing loser!  Haha, I’m so great and all you bottom feeding lowlifes just go on with your pathetic ignorant lives blind to the truths around us!  Stop pretending like all these superficial connections actually mean something!  Haha, oh how I love being me!   

Once I read the book I will promptly order Criterion’s blu ray copy of David Cronenberg’s film adaptation.  I actually saw this flick many moons ago though I don’t recall too much beyond some rather striking and bizarre imagery as well as the fact that I understood very little of it.  I’ve been rounding up as many Cronenberg flicks as possible on blu ray and next week I shall add to this with the long awaited blu ray release of his 1988 film Dead Ringers which is probably my favorite movie from this director.  Good ol’ Jeremy Irons.  He might be my favorite Alfred.  My copy of Fellini’s La Dolce Vita arrived via airmail yesterday and the transfer looks stupendous!  “Via Airmail” was the name of a paper plane designed by a girl I knew in 5^th grade. 

I need to buy both of Martika’s albums.  I told someone the other night that I like animals more than people, further clarifying that I largely hate people.  They were chagrined by my opinion.  But I spoke the truth.  That’s gotta count for something right?  Nah.  The truth ain’t squat! 

Those able to cannily read through the proverbial cracks have likely noted that in recent weeks I have slowly but surely been in a phase of rediscovery and reconnection with my undying love for his music (and now his musical legacy I suppose I should add).  Hold me.  All this unreleased music.  A vault.  I am in love.  I must say thank you for all these gifts.  Everything is renewed.  Make it through the storm.  Now I must begin the long and joyous process, just like in the beginning.  Where did all these come from?  What were their intended homes?  You have saved me so many times.  Alone in my room I listened to you all night.  Lying on a cheap bed in a strange town.  Lady cab driver.  This is what it is all about. 

The other night there were three David Bowie songs which reflected quite well how I was feeling: Loving the Alien from 1984’s Tonight, I’m Afraid of Americans from 1997’s Earthling and Fall Dog Bombs the Moon from 2003’s Reality.  I think Fantastic Voyage from 1979’s Lodger would also have fit.  And maybe the 1971 single Holy Holy!  I have nothing more to say on the subject than that. 

I watched the movie Arrival last night at the cinema with a predominantly older and respectful crowd.  I’ve been telling my contemporaries that it was so good that if I’d had a gun I would have blown my brains out right there in the middle of the theatre as the closing credits rolled.  Director Denis Villeneuve is 6 for 6 for yours falsely!  What a dude!  And Amy Adams!  She is slowly cementing herself as an actress for the ages!  When the eventual biopic of my life is made I hope she plays me!  Though I do actually hate biopics!  And she has another movie coming next month called Nocturnal Animals which also looks great!  What a woman!  Be careful not to confuse Arrival with David Twohy’s 1996 movie The Arrival starring Charlie Sheen.  It can be easy to do this since both movies deal with an alien invasion.  In some ways Twohy is as consistent as Villeneuve though his films are decidedly more in the schlock category (though loving schlock).  I’m waiting on needles and pins for the next Riddick movie. 

I was playing a rousing game of backgammon the other day with a giant talking pelican when the world inadvertently exploded.  Now, I don’t recognize a damn thing.  This world is full of unrealistic cheddar mongers. 

They call me ugly because I do not have the capacity to love everything.  Or maybe anything.  Sometimes I am not sure.  I think I probably am ugly. 

I guess there is a lovely trilogy of death we are all graciously privy too.  Let’s ignore it though.  We are the willfully ignorant.  We are a disease.  My word, humanity is so stupid and ugly.  Talking with others is painful.

He saw the future and it was murder.  

love that green one, dark and fish for morenaza (won't be held responsible for my tractions!)!

The new trailer for Wonder Woman premiered online this morning and I watched it while drinking black coffee and consuming scrambled eggs and a piece of wheat toast.  I don’t want to allow myself to get excited for this movie but I love this trailer just as I loved the first one.  Yes on color and beauty and positivity!  I also dug the little reference to the original Superman movie they slipped in. Those sly dogs!  Please let this movie be good!  Please! 

At the exact same time I watched the trailer I also learned that The Dark Tower movie has been pushed back from February 2017 to a summer 2017 release.  This news actually pleases me as it could mean the studio has more faith in its potential than before though that is not necessarily true.  It also gives me more time to reread the series before watching the feature film.  It also gives me more time to eat double stuffed Oreos.   I was driving around today and listening to Scott Walker’s 2006 album The Drift which I consider to be a dark masterpiece.  It’s impossible to pick a favorite track but were I to venture a guess I may go with Cue.  Listening to it makes me wish an alien disguised as a comely human woman would whisk me away to her spaceship disguised as a building where she would then murder me.  What a song, album and artist!  I was missing something before I found Walker.  It’s a very shaved down work.   That last world series game was a real doozy!  One for the ages!  I’m pleased the Cubs won.  Baseball is my life. 

I finished reading the book White Noise by Don DeLillo earlier today.  It is the second DeLillo book I have read, the first being Cosmopolis.  In both cases I found them to be very challenging reads that only became more difficult as I progressed and there were large chunks of both which I did not understand.  I’m not sure when I will read another DeLillo book but when this happens I may try Underworld.  Though that one may destroy me.  Incidentally, Cosmopolis was adapted into a great feature film by David Cronenberg (swoon) a few years back.  I saw the movie before I read the book and for that reason I purchased the copy of the book which had the movie tie-in cover even though I hate those.  Whenever I am made aware of a book through a movie I always purchase the edition with the movie tie-in cover so I can be repeatedly reminded of my ignorance while reading.  To my knowledge there has been no adaptation of White Noise though there is a bad horror movie with Michael Keaton called White Noise that has no relation to the book.  I saw that film in theatres opening night with a dear friend and own a copy (I remember I had breakfast with a jerk the following morning where I consumed pancakes and bacon.  I also remember the name of the restaurant).  But see, it’s all related!  Because, though I wouldn’t realize it until much later, my actual first exposure to DeLillo’s writing was back in 2006 with the release of a fantastic little indie flick called Game 6 with a screenplay that he penned.  This is one of my favorite films; I watched it today in fact!  And it stars none other than Michael Keaton!  What an endlessly bizarre fucking world we live in!  It also features Robert Downey Jr. and these two actors will be reunited on screen next year in Spiderman: Homecoming which I now view as a de facto sequel to Game 6.

My Criterion blu ray copy of Fellini’s Amarcord arrived in the mail today.  I watched the first ten minutes of it – right up until the burning of the witch scene – and the I promptly took a nap.  Sometime later I made and consumed a ham sandwich.  My copy of Ludovico Einaudi’s 2005 album Elements also arrived in the mail today and I have listened to it back to back nine times, finding it to be a thoroughly engrossing and haunting work. 

Having finished White Noise I am currently reading Off Season by Jack Ketchum and at roughly 200 pages in I am finding it to be just delightful so far!  I would describe Ketchum’s writing as clipped, hardboiled, gritty and raw which is an altogether very effective writing style for horror though of course not the only effective writing style for that genre.  This is the first Ketchum novel I’ve tried though I’m betting my bottom dollar it won’t be the last. 

Ah, la Morenaza del fuego.  I know who you really are.  You are everything.  If only…the bridge.  And when Maria Victoria was the maid.  These experiences are not my own.  But as I said before: she was wearing an orange shirt.  I can’t forget that.  Codewords.  She’s a peach.  Time is all jumbled up now.  You seem like a really nice person.  That other person finally married though, right?  Coastal Culture, that is a band for the ages. 

I love that everyone is a hypocrite.  Boy, do I despise people. The human race is an awful thing.  He was right, homo sapiens have outgrown their use.  I don’t believe in myself. 

This album Elements is amazing!  What a stupid person I am.  What’s going to happen when the moon start’s talking to me?

I believe all those moonbeam levels will ultimately be my way back inside.  I have missed you so.  You are crucial to everything functioning properly.  But how unexpected and delightful to find myself rejuvenated by a work thought lesser in the past.  How much did I take for granted?  And now this new power soul is gripping me in luxurious beauty.  Because when u love somebody.

I wish to doff a hat to young Alan (or is it Allen?) here.  Truly one of the greats.  Could hardly ask for better.  It is a raw deal but hopefully it will all work out for the best.  I will think of you if and when I drink an aqua velva again.  The next round is on yours falsely. 

What’s Goin On.  One of my all-time favorites. 

I’m going to be shitting turquoise very soon.  

i'm looking for a better place to d (respect respect always)

Steamed glass whispers keep coming to me every night.  don’t confuse love with something fleeting or exclusive.  We are constantly being reborn.  

Brian was quite right in that we haven’t gone any farther than this. What a bizarre desire, to be drilling through the spiritus santus tonight.  

Red Maria.  I nearly exploded right then and there.  While she danced and pranced and played all the major roles in this tragedy.  Later on I think we played at a little Tarzan style game but I could be wrong.  

“what fun it is to talk to an intelligent woman wearing stockings as she crosses her legs.  That little staticky sound of rustling nylon can make me happy on several levels.”  Brilliant.  Don’t credit me though.  I am but a humble observer.  I have only read one other DeLillo book and despite its brevity I found it to be a very challenging work though the Rothko references were pleasing.  Odd that there is a recurring Cronenberg connection in the recent stuff I am reading.  I pulled out my old copy of Pet Semetary the other day too, the one with the cat on the cover and green spine.  Old is a relative term as I think it is still the mostly widely available printing though I have possessed this particular copy for well over a decade.  It smells great.  Maybe it will be the next book I (re)read.  Classic King. 

Yeah, that’s right, it was Sunday morning when I could not sleep a wink so instead I watched the movie Crash (the 96 Cronenberg flick of course and not that horribly contrived Paul Haggis movie about racism from the early 2000’s).  I drank very cheap whiskey (on the rocks) while watching and experienced severe panic attacks and several moments of palpable dread wherein I was certain things were going to enter my room and take me away.  I’m actually not sure now if this happened Sunday morning or Saturday morning but it was definitely a morning and a good time overall. 

Can I travel back on moonbeam levels?  I think this, at last, might be my re-entry point.  I have missed you so much.  Things have not been at all the same.  

I loved the music I heard in the trailers for Nocturnal Animals (which also looks quite interesting with maybe a Blood Simple vibe?) and immediately set about investigating who be the composer.  I think I shall order that disc quite soon.  Actually I discovered the artist and corresponding album last night after roughly 4 minutes of hard investigative work.  I promptly ordered a physical copy through a third party distributor operating within the framework of amazon.com.  The disc is called Elements and the artist is Ludovico Einaudi.  Current estimates say the disc will arrive late this week or early next.  Upon arrival of this item I will remove the plastic shrink-wrap and then listen to it, perhaps initially while cooking or relaxing on my bourgeois sofa and then likely whilst writing and almost certainly in my car while driving through the rain or dead of night. 

She’s a peach, that’s for sure.  He always tells himself this is the last time but he always lies.  If only…what was the codeword?  I think it was “peanut butter” or maybe it was a light punch to the shoulder.  Either way, it was the sound of his doom, of the deadbolt sliding shut and locking him away in a place from which he could never hope to escape.  But then, he has no desire to escape, does he?  She was wearing an orange shirt that day.  Pure, every ounce.  He will never forget.  Orange and black.  It was like she was dressed for Halloween.  How utterly proper, he thinks as his head goes light.  Is it time for tequilas?  Why must you always wink?  Please don’t touch the shoulder!  His bones might disintegrate and the contents of his body ooze out of his orifices and wash down the nearby drain, leaving behind only a thick puddle of skin and hair.  I’m so ugly. 

After all these years I have finally found Jorge.  The next move is mine.  Now that I have found him I will find her.  Years ago I made a solemn vow and now it seems my ultimate goal – my entire reason for being – may finally be in reach.  Yamila, I swear….

 

Like the complete idiot I am I utterly forgot that Marina Abramovic’s memoir is released today.  Damn it, I am short of the coin necessary to make the purchase but very soon I will remedy this and I will buy that book and read it and if I love it I will eat it afterward, I love chewing on paper.  On an unrelated subject I wonder how much of that attention paid to the Andreasson affair had a hand in recent moments of lost time and lost sleep.  All the same, it was difficult to look away. 

Word on the streets is that Colombian chanteuse Shakira is releasing a new single this Fri with a new album set to drop around the middle of December.  This news pleases me. 

My experiences include sitting in a comfort chair with soothing oscillations.  I haven’t had a chance to organize my thoughts on either Lady Gaga’s new album or Leonard Cohen’s but I think soon this will happen.  Maybe.  I’m going to drive somewhere at some point today and I’m also going to pass some time on the telephone.  Maybe I’ll eat a slab of undercooked red meat.  I think there was a deer in my bedroom last night.  I remember waking up and seeing it standing there at the door and then it walked over to my bed and I think I giggled a little because it was weird how it wasn’t making any noise with its footsteps.  It stopped on  my side of the bed and I couldn’t move and in one moment I felt tranquil if a bit puzzled and in the next I felt terrifying and knew something was very wrong but I couldn’t move or make a sound.  The deer had huge eyes and it just stared at me and I don’t know what happened next.  I haven’t been able to remember but when I was hypnotized the doctor later told me I  started crying during this part of the memory and that I told her I couldn’t go any further or else I would die. 

In addition to the album mentioned above I also ordered a Criterion bluray of Fellini’s Amarcord and a book by Yukio Mishima.  I can’t help myself (lightning is striking again).  

finally found that pink and fence one more clearly

So, simultaneously fortunately and unfortunately for yours falsely, the step-son arrived (wearing a New York Yankees hat though this fell off once the punishment began in earnest) which means I had no choice but to open up my already strained pocket book.  I understand totally how that lack of responsibility could upset her, despite the fact that she’d only been there for two weeks.  Of course this was all viewed through a humble pane of glass.  These days, things feel much more real through the glass than in person. 

Tom Wait’s Rain Dogs in the sound of New York though I won’t say THE sound of New York because such a thing probably does not exist (or does it?!).  Still, it is masterful, running the gamut of all the mixed and largely nonsensical emotions running through the corroded corridors of my mind.  You know, it’s funny (not really) but it until I read this interpretation I never considered that Scott Walker’s albums Tilt, The Drift and Bish Bosch could actually be something of a Mobius Strip wherein Bish Bosch is just as much entry as it is exit.  I find that to be a most compelling reading, especially if you like to pass the time by blowing up bullfrogs with a straw.  Also, that new Godzilla flick was something else, eh?  Good to have the original G-ster back in action. 

You said you loved that red-head because she was your wife.  What a beautiful connection.  She looked familiar and later on I realized why but she was not the same woman.  It felt safe, right?  Kissing her on the cheek and then on her lips, it somehow felt right even through the tears.  But it’s so hazy now and you’re starting to wonder if it even happened at all.

I so desire for my soul to be stung and to be fucked over.  This January sadness may return along with all the ice but I feel ready this time and I know it has to be this way.  Can I actually take this all literally?  It would be almost impossible not to but would that be doing a grave disservice to…?  There is no form or formula.  There is no establishment.  I think the brass still speaks for this. 

The newest trailer for Star Wars Rogue One was requisitely thrilling and supplied me with sufficient intrigue that I am now excited (albeit mildly) to watch the film.  However, I should add that a huge chunk of my positivity has to do with the footage of one Mads Mikkelsen (swoon) who always makes jump and squeal with girlish glee.  Still, I have repeatedly said that these non-trilogy anthological films have potential in many ways to be more compelling than the new trilogy due to the enhanced freedom in storytelling they are theoretically given. 

I want to give my highest compliments to author Paula Hawkins because The Girl on the Train was a real crackerjack novel!  A real fucking-intense-can’t-put-down-page-turning-corker of a book and I absolutely fucking loved it!  I figuratively and then literally devoured it!  Of course my opinion doesn’t matter because I’m a worthless piece of dogshit but still, what a read!  Boy howdy though, I am now reading Crash (no relation to that horribly contrived early 2000’s film about racism) by J.G. Ballard  and it will surely not be the last Ballard book I scope out though it is surely the first and shall always be remembered as such!  Mayhaps I’ll go on over to Barnes and Noble Booksellers at this very moment and purchase the rest of his bibliography and then dance a Cha Cha in the streets while wearing an inner tube and drinking farm fresh milk!  Or maybe I’ll finally do what needs to be done and employ that most obvious equation of 1 ME + 1 Bottle of Sleeping Pills + 1 Bottle of Wine (white or red, doesn’t matter, but nothing too sweet please) = The World A Better Place. 

Still, it is renewing, rejuvenating and inspiring dare I say.

You know that we are living in a material shit!  And I am a material clit!  Blab forty and flab fifty, am I right?! Oh, what a way with words I have said the magic lamp as it descended gracefully into a room full of peanut butter stuffed pillows.  Let us not battle with raving psychotropic antelopes!  Let us instead savor the fervent fruit of our juicy sexual mounds while we writhe and contort and the delirious wet smacking sounds make a cacophony that wakes up the neighbors, tee hee.  Ah, the stench and sound of bodies during sexual acts; we are quite the repulsive creatures.  How it makes me want to vomit.  Who would be there to lap up the vomit though while jamming fingers into their anal cavity and smiling broadly to show up those expensive and lovingly capped teeth?  I had ribs for dinner last night, don’t you know?! 

Do I want to decode this final transmission?  This is one last parting gift, somewhere from the stars or maybe behind them.  We all want to go out screaming.  I heard this take place in the early morning before anyone else was awake.  I lay in bed and everything was right for a single moment. I was reminded of the great nothing I am and cherished that feeling.  I never want to cease discovery.  There was no plan.  When I met you it all changed.  A word in that last sentence doesn’t quite fit.  There’s nothing here anymore.  You’re weathered and beaten down but never more beautiful.  It echoes still. 

She was wearing a pair of pantyhose on her face and when she kissed me and then stuffed another used pair into my mouth deep enough where I was gagging I explosively ejaculated into my rent trousers, right leg tingling as always happens during my finest orgasms.  She threw banana cream pies at my face before all of course.    

“Feel the power.”  Oh my strained pocketbook!  

my ten legs have been eating too much dough

I told him I thought he had a fiduciary responsibility to oversee the feeding of those turquoise bunnies to which he staunchly replied, “Don’t let me catch you bathing with spools of copper wire again!  Back in my day there was no way to tell the difference between the dentist’s chair and a new pair loafers crafted from rich Corinthian leather so just keep that in mind the next time you decide to sing out of tune on a busy street corner while bars of platinum are being locked up in a Styrofoam vault!” 

                                          

It was true.  I’d traveled the world in search of the perfect lace and visited countless lace factories, even going so far as to planting high octane explosive devices in many of them.  Though to be fair, many kings find themselves in similar positions of being trapped in midlevel floors with no other options but to chuck a few grenades and see what sticks.

Carl began discussing at some medium length the difficulties inherent to today’s geopolitical climate, particularly as it relates to errant meteor showers in feudal Japan and Sara was so convinced by the hazy cadence of his speech that she immediately began to dance a flamenco there on the spot as though she no longer had the sense she was born with.  I promptly asked a few of my old chums if they wanted to engage in an accompanying circle jerk to which Jeb replied, “If freshly mowed grass were the only way to ensure nuclear fission as a viable source of renewable energy some 20 years from now, don’t you think we would all stop setting our alarm clocks to ring at the exact moment foreign plastics are being used in the preparation of four course meals down at the local animal shelters?  I can’t remember the last time computers actually helped me to change my socks but you can be damn fucking sure I’m not going to let the bitter ex screw me out of the chance to have freshly baked bread every night after I practice arithmetic!”

Later on, while shitbirds soared through the inky night, I began to wonder if I could possibly consume enough cardboard boxes to properly set up all my illegitimate children in community colleges just south of the equator as it passes majestically over Panama. 

Soft-serve connoisseurs at that very moment were diving like rolls of money through some bizarre proximity which was encroaching on my newfound sense of meatiness.  One of them was so boisterous about his lightly painted baseball cap he began to discuss at great length the anomalous quotient of reptiles to land cruisers in the event of radical hydrogenous cement oriented stimulation.  It was all I could do not to smear greasepaint on my face and then take a swift nap, head resting on a stack of tattered old books whose pages did not contain words, but rather sheer numeric polydactyl principles.  But I was too busy ejaculating rainbow scented seminal fluid into a massive mountain of talking granola to realize that if one could somehow cross the hyper intelligence of the Italian swordfish with the perennially optimistic insistence of the steel plated pronoun sympathizer then the resultant combination would be unbeatable in any forty-seven legged race except for ones in which paper cups were not permitted.  This made me laugh so loud that undercarriages erupted from some ancient fissure and the color blue ceased to have any meaning beyond some vague notions of pseudoscience which still believed in the practical applications of plaque as it related to silt depositories. 

Of course I knew there was nothing to be done at this point and Lori would have no choice but to turn her hands into cybernetic entities and then buy a new hula hoop to go along with that recent political discourse we found lurking at the bottom of a cup of Korean tea.  However immediately preceding this most precarious of revelations we were unexpectedly whisked away to a time when there was no longer a need for such pesky practices as counting and eating soup and thusly I was able to suspend disbelief for roughly five hours longer than the average time it takes my overgrown testicles to renew themselves after a long hard day of slam poetry down at the local Greek chapter of my favorite barbershop quartet.  I was so elated by this news that I swiftly pulled out a stack of blank three-by-five cards and then pretended I was the imaginary friend of a goldfish while the radio burped and belched and Lucas was too busy planting seeds of doubt in the garden out back to pay much notice or reap the benefits of a new set of tires gregariously installed onto the back of a long gestating plan of attack. 

Naturally this recent development forced me to confront my own cerebral shittiness which was further exacerbated by a bucket of white paint calling my name and demanding a new cornucopia for the upcoming grand re-opening of a village constructed entirely of squids.  It was only in that precise moment of reflection where I was quite surreptitiously able to overcome the callow resources of the damned and finally secure a spot in the loquacious bidding war which was currently taking place between two superpowers quite literally hell bent on stock-piling fossil fuels to use and abuse during the upcoming gubernatorial conversations which would undoubtedly infect the cultural zeitgeist to such a great extent that I would have no choice but to grab a handful of neon colored pipe cleaners and water the neighbor’s plants while wearing a pair of lightly used sneakers that had been purchased entirely through the new and trendy universal currency of pork n’ beans. 

“Well,” Steve said sulkily while sipping rich black coffee from a catcher’s mitt, “I guess that answers our earlier questions about whether or not dinosaurs will one day walk the earth again.  Hard to imagine the next time I’ll need to purchase a leather belt or make my own magma underneath trenchant conditions of brail trying to speak only in verbs while old Marcie waits on us to let her know when she can finally return that novelty tennis racket.” 

“I concur,” I told him, bringing the fleshy handlebars up to sternum level that I may better appreciate the subtle nuances of a carefully crafted medieval implantation; such sapience is increasingly hard to bind in this moist and tender day and age.  

Mystification is an interesting one to end on (and more Regina! YES!)

So the first official pic of Amber Heard as Mera from the upcoming Justice League movie was just released sometime in the wee small hours of the morning and I have to say she looks so gosh darn amazing and the pic made my heart leap with joy and love and glee and I swooned and I instantly fell truly madly deeply in love with this live action depiction of a character whose comic book counterpart had already captured my heart and undying devotion several years ago though I must be a bit of  a downer (such is my nature) and say this joy comes with one small caveat in the form of something I frequently bitch about (including in yesterday’s blog post albeit in regards to a different flick) and that is of course the washed out color though this is only a publicity photo and I could see the actual film sport a much more vibrant look (though that is far from certain given the darker palette of Man of Steel and Batman V Superman) which I so hope for, especially for some of these characters like Flash, Aquaman and Mera whose world just seems like it would be far better suited to bold and popping color! 

Lately I have been listening to a fair amount of Frank Zappa and I find it to be very engaging music though I must hasten to add that I am often put off by artists who persist in extended solos and long meandering jams (despite my love of metal I’ve never been a guitar solo kind of guy, sorry, and I can recall on more than on occasion being at a concert and thinking “that’s great but can you please play a song now”) but I find there are at least a few artists (and likely many more that I will warm to) who are able to make those passages interesting and innovative and Zappa seems to be one of those and I’m guessing a large part of that is his jazz-like approach to rock which creates a certain poetic flow to those passages – or entire songs in some cases as many are purely instrumental – and proves himself to be a masterful band leader in complete control of the foundational aspects of his compositions which allows for improvisation to take place on top of this and – when he is so inclined – creates a delightfully innovative backdrop for some very sophomoric and often highly amusing lyrics with the end result being an uber compelling sonic stew which I would actually compare to Funkadelic in many ways which is another one of those bands who makes long interesting jams and I was reminded of this yesterday as I listened to their classic 1970 album Free Your Mind…And Your Ass Will Follow right before listening to Zappa’s own classic 1974 album Apostrophe (’). 

To think of it all in terms of a slasher-flick as alt-rock record is a genius notion I would never have thought of myself because my way of thinking is sadly limited but it actually makes quite a bit of sense, especially since Walker has repeatedly said he is a cinema fan and – I believe – of Italian cinema though I wonder if he would be the type to watch Giallos though as I have no relationship with the man whatsoever and he is notoriously guarded it would be foolish of me to speculate so I guess all I can really do is note the funny parallel between Lucio Fulci’s trashy, gory and great 1982 flick The New York Ripper in terms of the twisted demonic Donald Duck voice the killer uses and this same bizarre voice appearing on Walker’s endlessly grim and fascinating 2006 album The Drift though I suppose it could be a coincidence but maybe there’s something more to it but either way I think I’ll have to listen to The Drift at very high volume while I’m driving around (in between failing at various things in various locales today) today which is always a joy as it is an artistic masterpiece much like many of Walker’s albums though I must also quickly add on a semi-unrelated note that Arcade Fire have captured my interest (I know I’m stupidly late to the game) and that song Keep the Car Running is so damn good I listened to it on repeat recently while driving around at night and reflecting on my perennially useless but often amusing existence. 

I woke up this morning and consumed eggs, toast and black coffee though I hasten to add I put A1 Steak Sauce on my eggs (it’s that important) and following this I tended to some requisitioning which previously kept me up at all mad hours of the night but, of course, I found to slip in a glass of cheap corner gas station whiskey on the rocks while watching an episode of The Wire which I find to be written and constructed like a rich full novel and at some point I fell asleep on the floor where I eventually woke up quite cold but at least I wasn’t plagued by horrific nightmares as has been so common lately though truth be told they do not bother me so much and I know it is of my own creation as I have been reading about far too many things like Gaia and Project Serpo lately to say nothing of the pale horses which continue to run marathons somewhere in the inner corridors of my mind so I guess I can’t and shall not complain but I’m pleased to say after (or was it in between?) said requisitioning I was also able to plan a bit for some mirth and frivolity which will be a more than welcome respite from these busy days though there are some last minute obligations to tend to and gosh, I hope I don’t forget to set up some recordings before I begin my afternoon and early evening of frolicking through those mean streets!

In case I wasn’t clear earlier: Hubba hubba, yowza, me likey, homina homina homina, boing!!!!  Those old records are so greasy and oily; real great grimy funk.  Let’s make some new chords which will clang and clash with beautiful might and I need to see the Fellini flick Amarcord (Criterion put out a beautiful blu ray of it that I should buy).  I think I need to read some books by Yukio Mishima and also read a bit more about the man himself. 

I haven’t been able to stop imagining her forcibly sticking the long heel of her shoe into my mouth.  

Me love that new design (redemption for that previous awful thing! and purple! YES!)

Ah, today has arrived at last.  I’m still a worthless failure but today will act as a recuperative salve, a panacea for the pain; nothing will take this shit-eating grin off my face.  I just love eating shit!  And grinning!  I can’t reveal every secret, loyal readers.  You will have to deduce this one for yourself.  But I promise the rewards are 1000 times greater than anything you could imagine. 

So a rough cut of the international trailer for The Dark Tower (based on the book series by Stephen King) was leaked online yesterday and I savagely hunted it down, first watching one without audio and then one with audio.  I’m hesitant to throw out too many thoughts since the video and sound quality was not great and the effects were clearly unfinished (complete with some green screen shots) and it feels unfair to judge something which was not ready to be released.  I will say that the two lead actors – Idris Elba as Roland Deschain (AKA the Gunslinger) and Matthew McConaughey as Randall Flagg (AKA The Man in Black, The Walkin’ Dude, The Dark Man, The Hardcase, Ageless Stranger, Walter Padick, Walter O’ Dim, Marten Broadcloak, Nyarlathotep, Bill Hinch, Russell Faraday, Richard Fannin, Richard Freemantle, Rudin Filaro, The Covenant Man, Richard Fry, Robert Franq and Ramsey Forrest) look fantastic in their respective roles.  McConaughey especially feels like a perfect representation of what I always pictured and heard while reading those books.  I am also intrigued as to the manner in which they are structuring these movies – not as direct adaptations per se but almost as a sequel to the series, pulling freely from its rich mythology.  The announcement of three planned movies as well as a TV show which would adapt book IV Wizard and Glass is an intriguing plan though I do feel the books and their mythology might be a little too far off the beaten path to be commercially successful as films and it would not surprise me if this first movie does not do well enough to make those sequels and accompanying show a reality.  Which leads me to my big concern about this leaked trailer: I hope they are not going to make significant changes to make this more mainstream and therefore more common and less interesting.  I saw a lot of Jake in this footage; great character but not the protagonist but I could see a movie studio deciding to focus on him (and his world) as an easy entry point for an unfamiliar audience.  Ultimately, it will be necessary to separate my feelings on the books from this movie and view each as separate entities.  I will await the official trailer before further discussion on how the film looks. 

Still, despite any misgivings of the film I can feel my love of the books renewed and I may try to reread the entire series before the movie comes out (though that may difficult since it comes out in February and there several other things I’ve been Jonesin’ to read).  What’s groovy is that I never read The Wind Through the Keyhole (book 4.5 written after the series was finished) or the short story The Little Sisters of Eluria (which takes place before the first book but I think after the flashbacks from the 4^th)  so this I’ll have new (to me) Dark Tower prose to mentally and emotionally consume.  Pulling my old copies of the books off the shelf and smelling those glorious pages brought back all the good feels, ya’ll!  Maybe I’ll buy the collections of all the comic books too and really delve deep into the mythology.  Fuck it!  Why the hell not?!  All hail the Crimson King! 

There’s a couple other trailers I wish to briefly discuss.  2 years ago I made one of the biggest mistakes of my pathetic life when I failed to put John Wick on my list of the best movies of 2014, instead relegating it to a dubious spot in the honorable mentions.  However since then I have watched that film roughly 859 times and find it to be consistently grand and beautiful.  Naturally I was as pleased as a starving man being gifted a pastrami on rye sandwich when I learned of the sequel and last week I was finally able to salivate over the trailer for John Wick Chapter 2.  I’ve been burned so often by good trailers for awful movies that I have an inherent distrust of any movie that looks good but this movie looks GREAT so I guess I can trust it.  The action looks all kinds of crazy awesome and since it is the same director as the first I feel comfortable giving him my heart and devotion.  I’ll be there opening day with a rictus of death spread across my face! 

Then there was also the recent Power Rangers trailer!  I’ve been anticipating this as I’ve so far loved the character designs and general feel of the photos but…sigh…the trailer looked far too much like last year’s failed Fantastic Four movie or (as many have said) like Chronicle. Where’s the fucking color?!  Why is Hollywood so afraid of color and wants every movie to have that dark, drab and dull washed out look?!  If only Luc Besson had directed this.  Still, I find the actors charming and acknowledge this was merely a TEASER and not a full on trailer so I will continue to maintain my anticipation, albeit a bit more reserved now.  Give me color though! And zest!  And pep!  This is fucking Power Rangers, people!!!

Oh slag!  It wasn’t a trailer but there was that recent behind the scenes stuff Zack Snyder posted for Justice League!  That got me all kinds of stupid fanboy excited!  Flash!  Aquaman!  Mera! Cyborg!  Bats!  Supes!  New Commissioner Gordon!  Lex Luthor!  And Wonder Woman (swoon!)!  I’m fucking ready for this movie already and that initial teaser/trailer comic con thing released a few months back which I first bitched a little about now feels pretty sweet whenever I watch it. Though the Wonder Woman movie still remains the flick I’m most excited about. 

I purchased the novel The Girl on the Train yesterday.  I hate being out of the loop on the water cooler book conversation.  I’ll let you ya’ll know if I think it’s a good read or not.  Then I’ll go watch the movie.  Then I’ll probably go home and cry myself to sleep like I do every night.

The Little Star came down twice in as many days.  There were Poppies laid out before me, so many Poppies though they were black and not red in color.  They were forced into my mouth and then covered my face.  There was also Fire and Rain and…I think a Princess somewhere off in the distance. 

I gotta say, I’ve really liked my last few blog posts but this one was pretty much shit.  Sorry everyone.  Still…tonight…oh yes…oh yes…..

the first secret word and then reputation asunder

So what visions of hell are we all designing for ourselves on this night?  Oh, those halcyon days, he said.  And I simply could not agree though it was through no fault of his.  There is no one in charge and there is no order to anything anymore.  There is a wave of shame and an unprecedented acceptance of sin and indulgences all around.  We are all drinking from the same glass.  

I felt pinpricks of heat all over my body once it was over and then I wanted to scratch my skin off.  He did horrible things and it all happened so fast.  The temptation was simply too glorious and his self control nonexistent and then his mouth spoke words whose poison was masked with honey.  I am just a little girl with grey eyes.  Can I still cling to that?  I don’t think so.  I would love to just stay deep in my room and never leave.  It is electric blue and I am begging anyone who would listen to just let me live there.  

Hands trembling, I am covering the canvas with deep swaths of pink.  But now my eyes only see black and I wish so much to drown in that.  Hear that name be called.  I have to cut it off, that is exactly what I need to do.  I need the courage to bring about a decisive end.  And everything will be better off for it.  I am no one’s Apollo.  Burning the belongings.  May he be thrown into the fire.  

Bodies keep betraying and then there is a pleading for forgiveness and then his tears travel down toward his smile and everything starts all over again and I am prisoner and it is my fault and I need to extinguish myself and that is the only thing that makes sense and then it will all be in its proper place.  There is no satisfaction.  Carving the flesh.  A portrait made from exquisite evil and my words fall on uncaring ears.  Very appropriate.  

Let me apologize to all of you right now.  She erupts in laughter and later on she will bring forth the instrument of a very personal brand of destruction.  Is there a true deity anywhere?  This all comes in the majestic female form.  I can’t travel these speeds anymore and I am etching terrible things in the walls and staining the carpet.  Who would say you are a wonderful person?  Please stop winking.  Please help me to stop this, please.  

Beginning at sunrise and he stands naked in the fields and wonders who considers their god to be the sun.  And parents were together with their children and impurity was rampant and a single burgundy rose was crushed between pale fingers and milk spilled out and flowed down to our feet and they are quite suddenly weeping again.  By the time of the turn it was all a matter of a simple flick of the wrist and he was drowning in color and choking on ecstasy.  My skull is to be split open and my back is to be pierced and I will break my teeth from grinding them so hard and I will still be screaming out apologies but nothing will be sufficient because I am something terrible and ugly.  Oh, how our bodies are designed for betrayal and slavery.  

And there is moment of horrifying silence and ideas fill the prism of deceit and they rush to his aid and there is still a knife present.  Blacking out.  Not once but twice and I don’t know where I am and for a moment I can forget who I am and feel bliss and then it comes flooding back and I write the word DEATH over and over again.  

He was searching last night and digging in the dirt and the city only showed him what he wanted to see.  He has spent everything and lost even more and I laugh and trade places and I cannot feel the right side of myself.  Ice is rising deep inside.  Please do not let this be heard.  I am so very scared of this potential and when I look around everything is ugly and contaminated and I wonder what it would be like to be sent away forever.  Don’t be searching anymore.  There is nothing to connect you with this world.  

It’s like an urban game of fiction, stuffing torn pages inside her mouth.  Please help me to cut myself to ribbons and spill my own blood and…this must be removed.  Biting my tongue now.  

Night comes around again and we are all so sorry but it does not make a single bit of difference and from now on it will always be too late.  I have purged nothing.  

It all feels so much more real through the glass and he now he can hardly breathe and it culminates in a lifeless little exclamation and he can only laugh and curse and start it all over again.  Something very soon is going to be awful.  This sad pathetic and useless thing was racing against time and he lost and that is what he does best.  Oh you are horrible and there is absolutely nothing left but counterfeit remains.  Please let it all be taken away.  I cannot go back again, please don’t let me go back again. Only one way really and we both know what that is.  I am so sorry to everyone and you all know who you are.  

You go by two different names and you do not deserve this.  Do you recall that cursed day when it all started and now there is not a single shred of it left and you do not deserve this.  What happened to that streak in your hair he wonders and you do not deserve this.  I am sorry that it had to be hidden away like that because you do not deserve this.  I know less and less about….   If I could take it all back, starting with myself.  Why did you do that?  So sweet and kind.  Can that be the final image?

God help me please, who will I be seeing at the costume ball tonight?