Wednesday, January 27, 2016

I'm an idiot

Iggy pop’s new song Gardenia is fantastic (I must learn the bassline) and beautiful and makes me right excited for his new album Post Pop Depression set to drop in March.  I must say this album is badly needed right now and I am deeply grateful for this surprise. 

Honestly, Nite Flights by the Walker Brothers has to be one of the very best songs ever.  Is it accurate to cite it to The Walker Brothers or should I just say Scott Walker?  I think technically the former is correct but we all know the latter is the real truth.  It’s just a brilliant and beautiful piece of work with some of the purest lyrics I’ve come across.  I like to drive around at night while listening to it.  It has some great covers too! 

My hand is going to fall off. 

These first two new episodes of The X-Files have been simply sumptuous!  I feel like a child again, anticipating each new reveal and analyzing every moment, sneaking peeks at the swimsuit and underwear pages of my mother’s copy of Newport News during the commercial breaks and not fully understanding the joyous reaction those photos inspire in me.  Those were the glory days of youth and I’m reliving them in full force these days.  What a return!  Two old friends and we’re together again. 

I recently purchased Troma’s deluxe DVD release of the 1976 Australian exploitation flick Mad Dog Mrogan.  Upon starting it up and watching the first couple seconds the first thing I said was “Holy mother of God, this transfer looks like absolute dog shit!”  I would bet my bottom bitch and bottom dollar that this was a VHS bootleg copied to disc.  No matter.  True, I would rather have a version that didn’t look like someone had pissed all over it but I’m just pleased as punch to have another great Hopper film in my collection.  It should also be known that director Philippe Mora is the man responsible for adapting Whitley Strieber’s bestselling true story alien abduction account Communion to the big screen.  The flick of the same name starred Christopher Walken and left me a terrified quivering mess as a child though it did not scare me quite as bad as the book which resulted in a lifetime of sleepless nights. 

I listened to the album Lodger several times yesterday: once during breakfast, once during lunch, once during my intense sweaty workout at the gym and then again during dinner and again while re-watching Mad Dog Morgan.  I love this album. I also listened to it the night before while I finished the Philip K. Dick novel Ubik.  I’m a big Dick fan but I can safely say I understood very little of that book.  I think I’d like to read a book about mathematics and chemistry soon.  Then maybe I’ll just throw myself in the river.  I’m a squid.  I listened to Lodger again this morning.  Thank You and you so much for Lodger

I think I’m having a mild cardiac event. 

I ate already prepared meatloaf and macaroni & cheese for dinner along with a tall glass of water (straight up, no ice).  While eating I couldn’t help but ponder my own rampant uselessness but, to be fair, this happens a great deal in my life.  While tuning into the nightly news on Telemundo I was devastated to find that Maria Celeste (swoon) had opted to wear a pant suit instead of her usual skirt and hosiery laden ensemble (how often I’ve dreamed of being the slave made to worship those feet after she’s had a hard frustrating day of getting to the truth and reporting the news).  I wept silently to myself and wondered how this already putrid day could become any more rancid.

Season 2 of Lucha Underground premieres tonight.  I’m so excited I may have no choice but to take my own life shortly before the premiere to quash my debilitating enthusiasm.  Avid followers of my tortured work know of my passion for professional wrestling and also know of the deep pain and frustration I’ve felt over the lack of truly great product in the past decade or so.  The first season of Lucha Underground was a head-exploding masterpiece and I’ve often lain awake at nights these past few months imagining how season 2 may go.  I think I’ll buy a new box of Cap N’ Crunch cereal along with a big tall bottle of frosty goat’s milk (cause cows are for calves) and then relax on my bourgeois sofa while watching the premiere seven times in a row.  I’m madly in love with Sexy Star and Catrina.  I need them in my life.  Though I know they would never give me the time of day because I’m a disgusting diseased animal.  These sentiments have been uttered before.  I am surprised by nothing.  My pleasures are simple.  My desires are so impure.  I want to savor this precious moment right now before the premiere.  If Lucha Underground follows the same pattern as just about everything in my life – devolving into a crushing disappointment – than I want to remember everything about this wonderful time that comes before the inevitable crash.  Though is it possible that this can stave off my life’s curse and stay its incredible course?!  Please let it be so.  I just love it so much!  It’s a beautiful show!  I can encourage anyone – lovers and haters of professional wrestling alike – to watch! 

The Berlin Trilogy and many before and after saved me and will continue to live and thrive inside of me until I am dead.  And now I have the 100 before me.  I wonder if I will be able to get through them all.  I think I will chop them up and draw from a hat.  Cat People is a fantastic fucking song from a fantastic fucking album.  I can’t believe how long I metaphorically slept on that song.  I’m such a fucking idiot.  I now suddenly have a craving for strudel with cream.  Maybe I’ll wash it down with a tall frosty glass of milk or maybe with an espresso with two teaspoons of sugar. 

I’ve been eating a lot of pomegranate lately, great fruit.  I’m in the mood for love.  Few things please me more than gorgeous cinematography.  Denier is one of those things, especially when combined with the lead singer for Ecuadorian group Encanto Latino.  Oh wow, all that dancing under that hot sun…oh please….  I remain a slave to my passions.  

Am I somehow somewhere getting my footing back?  "Damned if I know," he said. 


My night will likely culminate like so many of nights: me bursting into tears while watching La Nave de los Monstruos.  

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