We don't like the honest characters

I wonder if it is some sort of Indian magick that has done this to me.  An ancient strain.  Somewhere deep in the very back and very dark recesses of his mind there awaits the seedling of an idea, something which hasn’t quite hatched yet but perhaps with the aid of ancient texts with thousands of tiny words printed on brittle and yellow pages these secrets may be unlocked.  I found myself in a mostly darkened room last night surrounded by people which may or may not have been strangers to me.  We were all wearing burgundy masks, only occasionally lifting them halfway to sip richly aromatic drinks from sifters.  My garb was a traditional suit; the majority of the predominantly male audience wore the same.  There was a bit of smoke and then music but I could not locate speakers.  Strange sounds and incantations, they echoed.  Some of them were already becoming visibly excited.  Red curtains were pulled backk to reveal a woman who danced and then disrobed.  Her body was in fine shape but nothing remarkable.  She also wore a mask though it was more of a sack with crude eyeholes cut out.  There was a tattoo on her shoulder but I could not exactly make it out.  As she began to insert a long metal rod inside herself she simultaneously chanted something in a language I did not recognize.  Periodically, she would giggle like a school girl.  I was not quite sure what to think.  Those around me began to light candles and I noticed one in the arm rest of my seat as well.      

My shitty region free Korean copy of Abel Ferrara’s 1995 movie The Addiction arrived in the mail today.  I love Ferrara’s films and The Addiction is a particular favorite so it’s a damn shame for yours falsely that there exists no American DVD or blu ray copy and the only one I could purchase has no supplemental material and is in full screen!  Is this enough for me to break my former vow and kill again?  Maybe.  After all, how long can a man stay silent before he returns to the thing he does best?  

I might be questioning the motivations and I am surely not the only one.  Fear was rampant in their glassy eyes, pointed toward the sky in their unerring disobedience.  Are these scurrilous rumors true, does it indeed have sinister backing?  If so, what does it mean that it may also have my support?  My love is an ugly deformed thing.  I fear very badly the idea that I may be floating above myself.  Please do not let it be so.  What sins are committed in the name of art?  Did I watch a recruitment video, crystal clear and not without moments of glory?  Did words meant to inspire only serve to terrify?  Am I in the hands of something very wrong?  Please let me take the right path.  

Sometimes one just needs that power to be exerted, is that correct?  Such delicious power.  Subjugation and degradation feel so delightful.  And we certainly do not measure time in the same way, do we?  The moon was speaking a great many things to us and I considered how the moon terrified me as a child.  Even now, I sometimes look up at the sky during the night and am filled with fear.  But before me now, this leather slipping from the body, crashing to the floor.  There is a strange ecstasy invading.  I am no longer in a simple realm of disobedience.  There are great dogs of prayer and their voices are a new and valuable weapon.  She makes commands and I follow orders.  It’s all on the tongue.  

I saw two feature films in the multiplex this week: Deadpool and another movie.  I liked one more than the other but I will not yet reveal which.  However my love for Gina Carano is as undying as ever and I shall be purchasing Extraction on blu ray disc this upcoming Tuesday despite having serious doubts as to its quality.

  
Carrie Rodriguez’s new album Lola sounds very promising.   Mayhaps I’ll have to snag a copy and give it a healthy listen.  I’d also like to listen to Kanye West’s new album at some point in the near future but I’ve no desire at all to subscribe to Tidal.  Fuck Jay Z!  Nah, I kid the Z man.  I was merely quoting the song Ether by Nas from his great 2001 album Stillmatic.  Nas has long been one of my favorite rappers and I frequently find his flow to be far superior to the more popular likes of Jay Z and Kanye West, which does not mean they are not great artists/rappers in their own right so don’t start sending me a bunch of hate mail (unless you plan on going through with what’s necessary).  I love the second half of “Heroes”.  Mother fuck fuck I just love it!  I love the first half too, good gravy!  I’ve just been crushing hardcore on the second half this week!  

I’ve been slowly but surely catching up, gotta love those ass-numbing marathon viewings!  I have fallen heel head over once more (here I go again, the cycle never ends, I just pray I don’t get burned)!  This time with none other than the daughter of the demon herself.  Nyssa.  She shot an arrow straight to my heart with her lethal first appearance.  

I saw her running once she wrestled free of the moth, another love renewed.  There is too much lately and his heart may be on the verge of exploding.  Scissors are still frequently on his brain.  And a strong denial of mercy even when he begs for it.  You are a strong symbol.  I am a very weak man.  Likely, I will end up as a photographer somewhere at the end of the world.  

There are strange supporters of evil right here in this very world.  Please do not promote anymore of your high school philosophy.  Why don’t we all go read a book?  I’ve often wished to have hair like Christopher Walken.  I’m going to start reading The Stranger by Albert Camus today or tomorrow.  Sports Illustrated huh?  I never have before, do I dare start now?!  I suspect there are some very improper eyes paying attention to my every word.  Oddly now more than ever before.  

I suspect we’ll meet again someday in a capital city; the prophecies were correct.