Ride your bicycle on me!

I need to rent an opinion.

Lucha Underground is on tonight and I thank good gravy for that fact!  The premiere of this new episode means today is a great day despite me remaining a miserable failure.  I think I’ve been happier in recent days.  I’m probably the most positive person I’ve ever met.  All you fools who are prioritizing money as numero uno are going to be badly disappointed.  Tee hee, but I don’t judge.  We are all in for a very vicious and unwelcome surprise.  

When I woke up this morning I promptly consumed 2 eggs over easy as well as toast and a cup of scalding hot coffee.  I love the rough sensation of my thick tongue once the black coffee has done its burning work.  I also drank a glass of water that I may better stay properly hydrated.  Following this, I listened to track 9 of Scott Walker’s 4th solo album which was first released in the great year of 1969 and simply titled Scott 4.  Is it my favorite of Scott’s early solo albums you are no doubt screaming in an inquisitorial tone?  Who can say?  The only thing I know for sure is that I am a supremely grotesque individual and every time I look in the mirror I feel deep disgust and self-loathing.  Such is the nature of wisdom.  

I am in love with an alien.  Why do you insist on wearing that?  Don’t you know it only drives me to a deep and raving insanity?  I can’t help myself, please forgive me!  Please!  Sweet fabrics, sweet unknown denier.  And those red boots, oh God I can’t think straight anymore.  What they must be like after a hard day (and perhaps night) of crime fighting.  

I’ve been thinking a lot lately about those dead spots on the internet.  Do ya’ll know what I’m talking about?  Sorry to slip back into the Texan drawl I’d tried so hard to leave behind but sometimes it just comes back to me like the ghost of a dear friend who was brutally murdered.  But do ya’ll understand?  Those dead spots, the black spots on the internet where truly awful things lie.  It is best to stay far far away from those places though I sometimes wonder about the information being passed along on those channels and who and/or what are the forces which frequent those areas.  And what about those radio stations, Russian ones perhaps, that seemingly plays only white noise or a bizarre series of clicks and other such sounds.  There is horrific intelligence being passed along right beside every one of us each and every day.  There are chemicals being dropped on us right now.  We are kept fat and stupid because that is what we want.  What disgusting creatures we are.  Social media has us even more willfully ignorant.  Please excuse me while I go post a few more asshole pictures of myself eating dinner or getting drunk or with my oh-so-special friends and/or significant other.  This is exactly what they want, what they need!  We only think we’re dangerous when in fact we are nothing more than a very large group of petulant idiotic narcissists.  The reality of the situation is happening all around us but we are too myopic to see.  I hope we will not be too late to snap out of our pathetic self-aggrandizing bubbles.  

Darn dogs, biting mailmen just to hear them squeal.  This brain is nothing more than a squishy hodgepodge of too much Technicolor and drum machines.  It would be severely inaccurate to refer to me as a living breathing Rorschach test for I am nothing so splendid or interesting.  My tummy hurts.  I think I’m going to go chew on some chalky antacid pills and then take my morning shots of Tequila Altos Plata.  

Guys like Harvey Keitel are moving up list of favorite actors.  I recall seeing Abel Ferrara’s classic 1992 flick Bad Lieutenant in old dollar theatre back in the day.  In those days I never went anywhere without my leather jacket (I could keep my needles in the inside pockets and the material was so think they never poked me by accident!) and a pocketful of Raisinettes.  I was seeing a gorgeous south-of-the-border minx named Leticia at that time that I’d met at Tio’s Club down on 150th Street during a weekly salsa dancing competition.  During those nights she would wear red dresses that stopped right at the thigh as well as fishnet hosiery and black peep-toe high heels.  She was a very friendly soul and I enjoyed watching her set fire to the dance floor with her deliciously weighty derriere and jiggling thunderous thighs.  I chatted her up after downing several glasses of the cheapest vodka on the rocks they had (I recall there was a new bartender working that night, a real sweetheart who went light on the rocks) and despite the fact that we barely understood one another we both felt an instant connection.  I was ready to acquiesce to her every desire and such it was no problem at all for me when – after hitchhiking back to her apartment some forty-odd blocks away – she confessed her dominant desires and I subsequently found myself on my back, laying on the soft green carpet of her flat while she removed her shoes and planted her fishnet hosiery encased feet right on my face.  Her feet were richly perfumed by the oils and pheromones naturally produced by her bountiful body and through the sweaty and scintillating excursion of salsa dancing.  She laughed as she pressed down harder; calling me her “esclavo” adding that I was “patetico” and “inutil” and saying “Te ordeno que adoras mis pies!”.  I look back fondly on those times and feel fortunate that Leticia and I still communication on a regular basis through the wonders of Skype. 

But yes, Bad Lieutenant is a tremendous film.  Ferrara’s best?  Hard to say as he has a rather brilliant filmography though Keitel gives an impactful and fearless performance.  I would also highly recommend the non-sequel, non-remake Bed Lieutenant: Port of Call New Orleans, the 2009 flick directed by Werner Herzog and starring Nicolas Cage and Eva Mendes.  That is an eminently watchable and engaging piece of cinema and features an unhinged Cage at some of his all-time Cageiest!  

I have the sense that all this Los Angeles black magick is not going to end well for any of us.  Still, his skin is painted a deep indigo as he stands in front of that stained glass and it is quite beautiful.  I don’t care what the critics say; I say it’s solid as a rock!

Today, very much like yesterday and for about as long as I can remember, I am stunned by own uselessness.  However I feel a bit more upbeat about it today and I approach things with a childlike enthusiasm so I guess that is a marked improvement!  

I’m off to the bakery now; multicolored land of azucar, pan y wonder, don’t wait up!