Whales exploding in slow motion

I just heard the news of Olga Kurylenko joining the cast of Terry Gilliam’s The Man Who Killed Don Quixote.  Now, Gilliam’s always an interesting director and I highly enjoyed his last flick The Zero Theorem but for some reason – perhaps the decades of delays – I’d lost a bit of interest in this project.  However Kurylenko’s involvement just sent it sky high and blasting through the stratosphere.  Those who know me best know I literally worship the ground Kurylenko walks on – every blade of grass or speck of direct is sacred to me – and this insures (ensures?) I will be present and accounted for on that fateful opening night in the far too distant future.  You don’t know how lucky you are boy.  Oh Olga, I swear….

Last night, I watched 20 minutes or so of an early 90’s flick called The Rapture.  I had some kind of horrifying dream but I forgot most of it shortly after waking up.  I ate scrambled eggs, coffee and a piece of toast with peanut butter for breakfast.  At some point I reflected upon my own useless but I cannot recall exactly when.  Is there going to be another war?  Interesting thought, that they may be apache helicopters.  That never would have occurred to me because I simply do not have the knowledge base.  I think I want to re-read Cronenberg’s first book.  “Why the hell not?” I ask myself.  Love yourself as I love you.  I sat in my car reading Archie comics the other day.  My veins looked so plump.  I don’t enjoy being a pain in the neck, do I?  So many tentacles.  Perhaps going mad one day.  

No more tributes please.  Please just stop with the tributes, always terrible.  The new Star Trek Beyond trailer was kind of bleh, just like the first one.  Still excited for a couple of the actors.  People tattoo their pets?  Unbelievably stupid.   That little movie I mentioned earlier was quite admirable, definitely not without its but worth the search and the dough.  Methinks it will stay with me for some time.  lovely when things are just out of reach, eh?  Tropic of Cancer is ever more engrossing, the language rich, paragraphs are feasts.  I was searching everywhere yesterday for my damn blu ray copy of Blue Velvet but I couldn’t find it!  I found all the others but not that one.  Then I read from a Betty and Veronica Double Digest as I sort of alluded to earlier.  I’m sorry, I know I may be in the wrong but I simply cannot accept the re-launched new look version of the Archie universe.  I’m too attached to the classic style!  Currently the digests are the only format which still sport this style which means I must snatch up every single one as they are released and read them while guzzling gallons of steak sauce and whiskey on the rocks (for years now I’ve been a big rocks drinker).  That new Sonic the Hedgehog series starting in July looks intriguing.  I think I’ll buy 9 copies of the first issue, just for laughs (just do it already, no one will miss you, no one cares).  Though I am looking forward to this new subversive Twin Peaks influenced Archie universe show Riverdale set to premiere on the CW at some point in the future.  Could be interesting.  The cast photo looks good.  Oddly, Twin Peaks is by far my least favorite Lynchy thing of all Lynch’s projects and my heart drooped a bit when I heard he was returning to that series instead making another movie.  I’m still going to watch it though!  I feel so dizzy right now.  Gotta find a clear copy of that new reissue of Changesonebowie.  I’m such a stupid hipster.  I hate myself so much.  I think I’ll put on Tilt and write some crap.  Maybe I’ll fly a kite later but I doubt it.  my hands are shaking.  On my knees now and the light barely comes through

It’s always an hour or two behind.  Why?!  Why do they torture me so?!  I can’t feel my legs…K….  We’re not the same, none of us.  All so trivial.  I sit around bathed in neon and marvel at my worthlessness.  Only one appropriate course of action.  I can’t remember what movies I rented the other day but I think I need to return a few.  Still can’t seem to get a hold of the one where he fights the martians.  I thought I did once but alas, it was only a pipe dream.  Not meant to be.  Steaming guts flying out.  

Nothing in the world made me happier than the blissful confirmation that Michael Keaton is indeed going to appear in the next Spider-Man movie, ostensibly as the film’s antagonist which is speculatively the Vulture.  I have a real soft, squishy spot for ol’ Web-Head’s classic villains and I would be delighted if this conjecture turns out to be fact.  Please let it be so!   
 
King needs to get over Kubrick straying from the source material.  Just fucking get over it already!  Curious to see if he’ll be so vocal over The Dark Tower adaptation(s) making changes.  So damn curious!  I love King and Kubrick though.  Please forgive me for being so harsh.  

I must say I’ve been really bonding lately with Marilyn Manson’s 2015 album The Pale Emperor.  It has been a gloriously slow grower but it has not left my car or my brain for a couple weeks now.   Manson has always been one of the very best in modern music in fashioning an album as a unified statement and in this increasingly digital and singles oriented age it is a glass of fresh delicious lemonade to delve into a full and rich album once more, something that explores concrete themes and experiments with style.  Manson’s voice is also in fine form throughout and he pushes himself into some thrilling throat tearing territory.  I say bravo to this release and look forward to further listening.  

It’s an oddly beautiful image, isn’t it?  Or perhaps I’m just a raving lunatic.  I have doubts.  Still, not as beautiful as Gamma and Beta, am I right?  Oh please keep me prisoner aboard your spaceship! 

It only matters when its taken away, let us not pretend.   

plasma crave (attention better word)

Seems improbable things would work out in such a way.  It seemed improbable is more accurate.  Smiling through the teeth.  Such a singular definition, is anyone else in agreement?  Perhaps not.  Been easy so far but these last two are likely to be much more difficult.  No such thing as right where they left off.  In a darkened room and nothing changes.  Why are they letting so many sociopaths into their lives?  Ho hum, does not really matter much.  do not give too much away, hurts to see it was all for nothing.  Oh please, don’t be so serious, so self-important.  Oil.  Rich and black and all over my hands.  Lets not get bogged down with semantics.  All of us who bet we would find fulfillment with our menial dreams are in for an unpleasant realization.  

Me saw Captain America: Civil War the other day.  I sat dead center in the theatre and felt comfortable as ever.  I submit that Black Panther – played to a T (for T’Challa) by Chadwick Boseman – was the best part of this feature film.  I’ve been a BP fan for decades with my love renewed during the excellent Marvel Knights run from a few years back.  His was the most prominent character arc in the flick and his action scenes frequently among the most stirring.  And out of the myriad of cameos and setup-for-future-movies characters which always litter these movies his was the most organic feeling and adeptly acclimated into the larger plot.  Spider-Man’s involvement felt much more shoehorned in yet his spritely energetic presence was a welcome addition and he also won me over.  

This instinctual possessive desire is something alien.  That doesn’t really make any sense.  Is there a sinister transformation taking place?  Is this the nigh imperceptible gradual descent alluded to so early on?  I’d bet you’d make time after he’s gone.  That much is sure.  Increasingly it is only possible to find solace and safety in the creations but not us.  This cannot be right.  Is it a contract then?  Do we all owe someone for the rest of our lives?  It is funny to think how everyone believes it is going to make everything better.  It is just one more element to be ruined.  All so ugly.  

Scissors on my mind again, not good.  Reinforced steel, not good.  Reinforced heel-toe thought…wow, very very good.  RHT.  Can’t get enough.  Or can I?  No, definitely no!  I most assuredly cannot get enough.  The ending of the of the invisible killer was more generous than he imagined.  I suspect he shall be returning soon enough.  

Is the block rearing its ugly head again?  Did the wolf run away with the inspiration too?  We’ll see how this sushi thing works out though I have high hopes.  I have high pie in the sky hopes.  Ah, secrets and lies, you gotta love em!  The alternate identities are a bit on the passive side now.  Though things are rather horribly clear in the harsh morning light.  That first pic of Idris Elba as Roland Deschain looked promising.  I remain cautiously optimistic and mawkishly intrinsic about the whole thing.  Did I see a bunny in the barn last night?  If so, I imagine it was the most terrifying things I’d seen in a good long time.  Tight like a fist.  Do you understand?  It’s all connected.  After all, why would he call label that collection with that term?  And where exactly is he travelling too as he descends those stairs?  Is it possible to fool so many.  Please don’t tell its true.  Where is my crutch?  We’re all leaning on something these days.  Can you remember the last time you were truly…?

I do believe he’s finally hit upon it.  What would he be without those particular sins?  And the willful destruction.  We all live for those things.  Sad.  Though we’ll get it by.  It’s a very modern world after all.  How is it possible to so actively seek out that destruction.  He keeps traversing the same lines, going back again and again.  something has to dull it out eventually, right?  Ah, the sweet imagined pressure around his neck, patterns imprinted on the skin.  A few taunting words of magic and everything starts to feel just right.  And afterward?  More drink to drown it out and old Polaroid photographs falling down onto a pool table.  I know less and less....

Bit of a struggle here really.  Amazing what can be suppressed when the timing is just right.  we are all crumbling oh so slowly.  Hahahahahaha.  Wait!  Who was that just laughing right now?  Don’t look behind me please.  I just need to read a little more, that is all.  please don’t let me see what you really look like.  Hot tears running down my face.  Please don’t let me see you.  

Guillermo Del Toro is quite a talented director.  I think i own all of his flicks.  I myself am becoming obsolete (not that I ever really had any value or importance to begin with) but many of his works are becoming richer with age.  I also heartily enjoyed his most recent movie – Crimson Peak.  Twas a splendiferous gothic treat awash in bold and beautiful landscapes.  I don’t know what I’m saying. But I liked it a lot.  Oh Chastain, oh yes.  Hellboy movies are amongst my very favorite.  Don’t forget his Spanish flicks, they bleeping rock!  I love Mimic too, I have a soft spot for human sized insects (maybe because I am one tee hee!)!  I love pink basses!  I covet them!  

So much time wasted.  So much of nothing going on.  Is that the way of things.  I never had a chance to….and now we never will.  Let us keep prioritizing things which do not matter.  While what little beauty there is continues to perish all around.  Can anyone be forgiven?  What was seen in that final moment?  Never again.  I did not appreciate enough.  Why do they keep on talking?  I wouldn’t even care except I feel so bad.  

Tried to think of something comforting while falling asleep.  still haunted.  Tried.  Something strong and caring.  Primary colors.  Capturing the essence, the spirit.  The mythology.  Capable of so much.  and down below.  Wrapped in.  every moment.  After the long days.  Why always involving such lack of cleanliness.  Your own thoughts betray.   But this comfort in loving enslavement.  Always underneath, receiving the commands.  Perfumed subjugation.  

I finally understand: I like it because it is bitter.  And because….

and definitely more with A.B. Lepe, right?! Also, if only, to be cookie

For the Girl Who Has Everything truly was one of the very best and I’m not too proud to admit I was quite moved by the end, especially that last night.  Of course, I’d read the story it was based on years and years ago and also thrilled to the cartoon version but I dare say this was superior to both of those.  I am pleased by the renewal and overall happy with the move though a bit concerned over budget and who may or may not be returning.  Melissa is the secret weapon though (maybe secret isn’t really appropriate given how upfront she is) and as long as she is present the central spirit of the work should live on.  As I said last time, the cinematic outings keep faltering but this is near perfect and Melissa is its best asset.  

My blu ray copy of A Lizard in a Woman’s Skin recently arrived.  As did my copy of Cold Fish.  I think I’ll watch them both back to back while consuming a bottle of cheap gas station wine.  What does it mean or imply when something begins with sex?  I suppose I’m going slightly mad.  Fulci though, quite a director.  Sono tambien.  I need more (all) movies by them.  

I don’t fit in too well at a family picnic, had to leave early.  He is trying rather hard to do something which makes him feel good again.  Do you remember how that felt?  It seems like so very long ago.  

I think I may be falling in love with the language all over again.  It is a rather glorious feeling.  Cronenberg wrote a great but challenging first novel.  

Oscar Isaac is one of my current favorite actors, always giving a fascinating performance.  A Most Violent Year is so compelling, his performance a quiet storm.  

A lot of helicopters flying over us these days.  Paranoia, fear.  

I keep questioning the validity of things.  Is that the right word? Hard to say. Baffling how many people exist in a state of constant unhappiness, desperately trying to convince themselves it isn’t true, that it’s all for something or that it all means something.  I think we’re all one step away from sitting in that theatre, clutching our fantasy with tears streaming down our faces, realizing it’s all fake.  I wonder how the awakening will feel?  Ten seconds is not very much time at all is it?  

My oh my but Bjork’s 1995 album Post is brilliant, isn’t it?  I’m predictably late to the game because I’m a worthless failure with no real taste to call his own but…that music was playing in my car yesterday while driving through the rain.  The water against the windshield, perfect grey skies, occasional boom of thunder, a rather comforting solitude and detachment from the awfulness everywhere and the music became central, all scattered electronic beats and her voice beautiful and chaotic.  It’s a very urban album I think. Is that right?  Is metropolitan better?  I imagine walking through crowded city streets with headphones on and this playing, feeling good and alone.  Better off dead if I can’t be….

The Witch comes out on blu ray tomorrow.  I have not decided 100% whether I shall be making that purchase though the reasons for my heretofore indecision may be darker that you’d hoped.  Still, I can say with complete certainty I loved the film and for one reason or another it has been on my thoughts often during these past few months.  I also still need to round up several issues of that Poison Ivy miniseries and Neal Adams’s The Coming of the Supermen miniseries but that’s neither here nor there.  I think I was eating a fortune cookie recently in the middle of the night when I was once again struck by my complete and utter uselessness.  I may have had a good chuckle later on about it, can’t quite remember.  He wonders how people pretend so well.  

It’s hard to beat the walk away perfection of the electrician, isn’t it?  but that shouldn’t stop anyone from trying!  On the contrary!  It came flooding back again despite the break.  There was the inescapable envy as he desired an undeserved gratitude and wished to be the motivation for such laughter.  In the end, it wouldn’t really matter though.  Nothing matters (hand around my neck).  Side by side though, that was a lovely turn of events.  But whom is he looking to for his inspiration?  Is there a real danger present?  Would it be terrible to say he is doing it all for…instead of…?  Of course, things can’t be entirely clouded over can they?  Certainly, there is the hope of meeting one night at the masquerade ball and of honest tears and the wonderful manic laughter which comes from harsh realization and giving up illusions.  Yet there was also the thought of how that pattern and color and shape would look underneath a veneer of black.  Everything in reverse of course, so much pressure and words alternating between fierce and tender and back again.  

Good ol’ Fulci.  Don’t torture a duckling and all that.  On a largely unrelated note those old black and whites offer surprising delights, don’t they?  Panthers and all that.  Tall and golden and a mystery which will likely never be solved.  I sense a generous amount incoming somewhere down the line once things stabilize a bit.  And of course, the search previously mentioned will now continue in earnest until the end of time.  Reliving those early primitive moments has been…fun.  The dogs are hunting her down now.  When she came to the village she said a certain someone came with her.  be very careful please about what you let inside.  

Day in the life maybe but no use extrapolating on certain things.  Ooooh, yummy.  There were many laying on the sheet.  Please, help yourself.  Immediately the thoughts jump to being tossed inside.  Wet and warm and slippery and then hard and jagged, laughter and some deep rumbling.  A swift rejection afterward and some necessary discipline followed by a cleansing and then a swift insertion, more laughter.    

Mayhaps I badly underestimated the bridge.  Mayhaps I say.  It’s feeling pretty good right now.  Elephants.  

Writing things off, deducting, very economical practice, necessary for continued longevity.  

I always get called an asshole (riff on track 2)

My head gets too tight sometimes.  Instant understanding and inevitable questions.  That lovely river looms so large.  The only act which could possibly have any meaning.  Don’t look at me that way.  No one understands except those who do.  About to encounter a prophet but what do those numbers mean?  Please, I do not want to be disrespectful.  Is this going to go very bad?  Horrible influences controlling all of us.  You did your little dance and drilled through the…again.  please don’t let anything in, don’t even let it cross your mind.  Was it really a fable?  An apple and that hand looked so pretty for a moment.  

The evening is never meant to go smooth.  Don’t be so combative.  This is turning into a witch hunt.  Relax baby, let it happen.  We’ll cut and go and everything is going to make perfect sense.  A disjointed narrative is what’s really being called for.  

Not everything through my eyes.  nothing through my eyes, really.  That seems the most appropriate.  That gives me great comfort.  Maybe you said that to me after a not so blissful train ride.  Why doesn’t everyone see the same things?

Who is that I hear walking up the stairs?  I feel so scared right now.  Maybe I would scream but I don’t suppose it would do much good.  

You said the word “cocksucker”.  Did you mean it?  Where did you hear that?  I must investigate.  Twinkle twinkle, eh?  What a richly appropriate choice given the evening festivities.  Don’t forget to keep your head….

Precious skin, burns so neatly.  So easy a child could do it.  is that too transparent my alternate personality asks to no one in particular.  

This can’t be every single time, this can’t be every single motherfucking time. though I suppose it ultimately doesn’t matter.  A rather lovely comfort to be found in meaninglessness.  Nothing…right?  Please don’t make me say it.  hand wrapped tightly around my throat.  Don’t force it.  whatever you do, don’t force it.  that is the worst of all.  And yet here you are.  Magic potion down and everything flowing so smooth.  

“Hey, I’m this.” “Oh, you’re this?  Well, I’m that.” “I say, what a batshit crazy motherfucking coincidence, eh?”  Hey fellas, you may be this and you may be that but I’m over here contemplating the majesty of my grey matter splattered against a nearby flat surface.  What does that make me?  You’re certifiable!!!  You’re certifiable, you know that!  No no no, we were talking about dinosaurs (sworn enemy of man), not sharks.  

Nothing should be so easy.  Too much loving going on.   Hurts to say anything.  Please excuse me as a noose has just dropped into sight, too lovely to resist.  Damn  

Is that the reason why you?  so many question with no real answers.  He doesn’t  know why he does things, how many times must he repeat this?  

Strange comforts. Predictable imagining the source as from a different home.  
They (though I should say he) assured the sun would not rise anymore with that last bow of glory.  I stole a bit of that though I made it clumsier.  It was a really a last bow for them but the beginning of something much greater and far more beautiful for him.  

Not dreaming now, am I?  I suppose we can briefly discuss various anti-monopolistic sentiments, perhaps over some cocktails.  There is always an emergency popping up.  I don’t imagine the law changing anytime soon.  Simply the way of things.  everyone in suits and slicked back hair.  If only I could.  what am I doing Mombasa?  I think mine would likely be the mother.  Know, what I’m talking about, yes?  Sounds like such an ugly word but I know it wouldn’t be.  

I look like a whore? All the days of my life.  No reason to care really.  Beautiful I say.  It’s two different ones talking right now.  In reality the first could never ask such a thing for s/he was never privy those other thoughts.  Oh, all the ways I failed you.  not sure what this admonishment means.  Oh God, why must we all talk while in cars?  Please, can everyone please stop talking to me?!  Pretty please with sugar on top.  I suppose a lack of answers is my answer.  Why try so hard?  Nobody else is.  

Pure terror in the middle of the night.  think I was probably around 25% or so.  Screaming so loud, fists meant to be raised.  Screams no longer sounded human, so deranged and awful.  My God, who’s coming in, who is going to open that door?  It’s 3:30, isn’t it?  Or just a little later?  What’s happening?  This is how he’s going to look in her eyes when what we’ve overlooked has taken over.  Always love drinking in that rage.  

Watching bright blue eyes is becoming a legitimate problem, isn’t it?  so many innovations making it even easier.  Starting to feel like my best and most cooperative contemporaries.  Let’s not make too many jokes though.  This is destructions.  Another beautiful barrier to all the awfulness everywhere.  Turquoise high heels, can’t argue with those though.  Everything he would have asked for.  Parental advisory for harsh language.  Growing on him, right?  Absolutely nothing is the same, must ask if it ever will be again.  I guess that’s why they call her lethal….  

I pulled up to pay at the drive thru of rather disgusting fast food restaurant.  A young chap with red hair took payment and gave me my repulsive food.  His name was a name I typically associate more with a pet than a human but it is not a bad name.  his work seemed to be less of a passion for him and more of an obligation.  This struck me as sad though it was laughed off by another.  Curious where this youngster will be in 30 years.  Where will any of us be?  Trudging along in slightly higher levels of unhappiness.  One can only hope!!! Smiley face!! Tee hee, laugh laugh, chortle, snicker.  

You know, deep in your heart of hearts, you know who that is.  

the scorpion attacks (great addition to the)

Scott Walker’s 2006 album The Drift is so good it literally facefucks the shit out of me every time I listen to it!  I put in the other day while driving around in my maroon Mercury Coupe and blasted the holy hell out of track 6 Cue.  That big ol bastard of a track sounded bitchin as a motherfucker on my pricey and stereo system and I spent many an hour of that drive with that tune on repeat, screaming the bizarre and haunting lyrics at the top of my lungs!!!

Imagine my shock and awe just the other day whilst I was perusing the foreign films aisle of the digital video disc section of Ye Olde Conglomerate and I happened upon a used copy of a feature film featuring Yamila Herrera which I did already have.  I nearly suffered a major cardiac even right there on the spot.  For years now I’ve made it my chief goal in life to collect every film – indeed, every THING – which features Yamila Herrera.  It is the only thing in my miserable life which provides me with any measure of satisfaction.  This tells me I need to be even more vigilant and studious in my search.  I need to forsake things which I’d foolishly prioritized and double my efforts from this moment on.  Yamila, I swear….

Flesh colored hosiery is so wonderful, joyous.  

Little tone, eh.  That probably isn’t the right term, just more of my token buffoonery.  The what of Mexico?  I’m not sure I understand.  I am hella intrigued though as the kids would say.  That’s right (the mascara snake)!  I’m still hip to the rad street vernacular.  

If only she would stuff a used pair into my mouth!  I suspect that would make me very happy.  

I’ve been listening lately to Carla Morrison’s 2015 album Amor Supremo and it is quite a lovely and ethereal piece of work!  I came late to the party as usual (because I’m a worthless individual) but it truly is better late than never.  Great songs, innovative production and a beautiful voice.  need to dig deeper as these are only first impressions.  

Another grand event last night.  what can I say?  They simply know what they are doing better than anyone else in the game right now.  

I also been catching up on Supergirl in recent hours.  My word, I’d forgotten that she….  If only after a hard day of crimefighting I could….

Low and Tilt, so perfect.  And several others.  Things keeping me alive.  

Once a month, is that too much?  dick well in hand, everything began to feel so not quite right.  Is this possible?  Are we really living in this world, where touching our groins sets us into locuras?  Something just doesn’t seem quite right and I frequently have the sneaking suspicion that this is all part of someone’s imagination.  But whose imagination?  Ah, that is the question.  Could it be mine?!  I suppose that’s possible.  There’s just too many weird things.  like movies.  How is it possible that we watch movies, that those things exist?  I frequently have the sensation that what is being lived is not real at all, this has all been invented.  There is an element of terror in terms of discovering who invented it all and why but my curiosity remains the same.  I don’t edit things anymore.  Devoted followers of my work have likely noted this.  I’d love to say it’s for artistic purity or some such puffery but it really just comes down to common household laziness.  

I recently watched the movie Regression starring Ethan Hawke and Emma Watson.  I dig the director.  Abre Los Ojos is a fanstastic film and his entire oeuvre is filled with rich atmosphere.  I was able to call what was happening within the first 5 seconds of this flick.  Not because I’m smart (I’m actually incredibly stupid) but because I’d previously read a great deal about similar cases.  I found the flick very compelling nonetheless with really smart photography.  I think I’ll purchase it at some point but who can say when with any degree of certainty?

Of all this shared universe crap we’re being made to endure I will say I think I am genuinely excited for and interested in the new Universal monsters movies!  The mummy is up first and the cast and gender swap certainly excites me!  We shall see how it goes.  

In this moment I do feel Your love and that is beautiful and keeps me going. I am a fool.  
I brought up Supergirl earlier.  Interesting that this TV show is currently doing a much MUCH better job of keeping the rich and wonderful spirit of the  Superman mythology alive than anything in the cinematic works.  I think this is right though, I do need to listen to more positive things.  

Watching a bit of baseball.  I find it to be a very satisfying sport.  

I am writing now of this specific place I have forsaken.  It was a necessary act, a necessary sacrifice. It was more than the right thing but the right thing doesn’t always feel right, isn’t that right?  Still, it definitely saves a lot of feelings for those all important morning hours.  And the night?  it’s still ours and though some are momentarily not quite as crisp, nothing has truly changed.  We still find our way to that masquerade ball.  Please tell me it’s going to be okay.  Do I have any right to ask anything? We’re all just tired of wearing masks.  But I’ll never know.  there is so much comfort to be found.

Which reminds me of the video game Sonic R for the Sega Saturn!  Any other fans out there in interwebs land?  I used to race as Knuckles the Echidna all the damn time.  such is the nature of wisdom.  

That 9th grade drama class, what do I even say about it?  

But no, let us not depart as such.  This music pumping through the speakers.  When I see you I am not so sure at first.  I am trying so very hard to hide how fractured and wrong I am.  I know you can see it but you accept me anyway and this is everything.  I have no idea who I am anymore.  She lets him know this is okay.  There’s a big comfy California King in bedding….

This is me at my most anachronistic.  

Almost did it with the brilliant (la)

I need something for midnight listens but I think I has found it.  Perhaps things have become too shaved down as of late and I am unable to find the proper wire to pull.  Temporary peace I say.  That great DJ at work again as she peers through the dirt.  

Don’t pass out on me.  Could there exist sweeter words than that?  all those awful phonies, he simply cannot support them anymore.  How can anyone?  Great question but there is no answer yet.  I’ve watched the same documentary several times a day every day for a couple weeks now.  If only I found a German girl with whom I could drink and listen to then new but now old records.  I suspect that would be a good time.

Does anyone else but me notice an interesting parallel between a key passage in Henry Miller’s Tropic of Cancer and Bob Dylan’s tune Visions of Johanna?  Maybe it is just me.  I prefer reading on my balcony in case I finally muster up the courage to do what needs to be done.  Where will they live?  

Harder and harder when the words don’t mean anything, misery is the only thing he can possibly look for.  Please don’t take that away from him.  Red thing inside.  He saw her and recalled that very first time with black and orange.  Eventually we will have to take off our masks.  

I need a new show to watch since I recently finished Breaking Bad.  I don’t really like TV shows but I still need a new one to watch.  One show at a time.  one fun at a time as George would say.  I should try to be cute in a stupid ass way.  I am strongly considering The Wire and weakly considering Justified and Mad Men and House of Cards.  It saddens me to write those names out because – again – TV shows do not provide me with much satisfaction.  But I will make the choice anyway.  That’s just what I will do.  I am in mime.  

Oh boy, I had some horrific dreams last night, really awful sexual revelations.  Repulsive how much we are controlled by….  

Mayhaps its time to deliver the word.  What have I been resisting as of late.  

When did you stop listening?  When did everything need to become so easily digestible?  So meaningless.  Can’t get this out anymore.  Body trapped in something awful.  what is this grotesque desire that continually needs to express itself?  I am control again.  perhaps he will be deleted and fade into obscurity.  No one is waiting to be discovered anymore.  Maybe we should try writing in ¾.  

Everything must be modern, yes?  

When we were in line and he thought you were someone else.  Then it was spring again, green dress, smiling lovely, a glass of cold lemonade.  Questions hanging around, spent cigarettes in the ashtray, not us.  Now he may just be creating things for effect.  But enough of that is the right stuff.  Thanking me.  Do you recall this?  Thanking me.  Do you like coffee?  Never be myself.  Never be myself because myself is far too ugly, too vile.  If I could just go back and snuff it all out, kill it all, starting with myself.  

From there it is only some joyous delirium, am I right?  You spoke of torture in the most delightful way.  Did you notice how eager and attentive he was at every critical juncture?  Let’s be chronological though it’s impossible to quite shake it all.  God, why is so much of it slipping away already?  Just please let me hang on to a couple of those moments, just those two beautiful most precious ones.   He remembers where they were, he reached out for a…and instead she gave a…thank you, thank you so much.  and at the very end, all things revealed, why didn’t he say it sooner.  What difference can he possibly make?  This was after that right angle room and before such inescapable secrets.  That right angel room was so glorious.  Just say hello as he passes by.  Then never again.  looking for a job.  

 
Don’t point that gun at me yet, too much yellow in the background.  I’m sorry you couldn’t be proud of me.   Created a fantastic being of pure hatred.  I guess it all stands to reason.  I hear these same numbers over and over again.  21.  15.  These numbers keep popping up inside the rotting brain.  Fast pigmentation.  And the fish people again I suppose.  Tilt.  Of course they would not understand.  

Every morning that sound on the pavement is so melodic.  Reminds of the right angle room in many ways.  Music.  And a very specific style.  And black waves again.  

I’m going to watch the movie Regression soon.  It got quite bad reviews but I’m still interested.  I did not like Deadpool enough to purchase it but I will anyway because I can’t have such a big gaping hole in my Gina Carano collection.  Then I’ll probably poor myself a stiff drink and cry for an hour or so wondering why I am.  He’s waiting for language to emerge.  Wouldn’t have thought of that.  who is going to be the only one left.  My, the new X-men movie is getting not good reviews at all.  

Scissors, huh?  We discussed scissors at great length but not quite ad naseum.  They are great glorious things.  this trained assassin, great and lethal.  A bit of high camp, yes.  Nothing like a little high camp, it really shakes things up.  this is true, there is no name for what we are describing.  Don’t want to lose all his money though.  There is a very real risk of this.  It is becoming quite unsavory.  Don’t fall into the same old trap.  Don’t want to see anyone anymore.  I suppose it doesn’t really matter too much. I’m forgetting a lot of things but I bet me bottom dollar I’ll recall them later on.  

I do like the new song.  its not bad at all.  that’s always a damning good review, right?  The production is fresh for them but there are many familiar elements.  I do like the song!  good song!  not very challenging.  Does it need to be?  Reliable.  Enough?  

My searches are very specific.  

Just waiting around for someone to jerk the handle.  

.... vs. The Invisible Killer

She was a prostitute, killed under a bridge.  I think she was coming home from the movies.  I saw something through a thick pane of glass but I did not quite understand the implications.  Isn’t that always the way?  Some madman screaming away.  Is that even complete?  I guess it doesn’t make complete sense though I would add I learned long ago the dangers of torturing ducklings.  She asked if I wanted money or a kiss and the choice was far too obvious.  Of course, I ended up hating myself later on but what else is new, am I right (I asked winkingly)?  I gotta titti this up!  Insert expletive here.  I think “fuck” will do nicely but I’ve never been one to quibble.  Kibble though, that’s entirely different matter, I love feasting on juicy sumptuous kibble.  And bits!  I’m not a horse though.  Of course.  God, I saw it!  Right there through the fucking glass I saw it all happen but I did not fully understand!  Someone please help me because I feel so very frightened right now.  What am I?  Damn.  I will be forgotten.  No one will even remember my name.  This is taking something very precious as it flies away.  All my idiot questions.  I think I’m something of a Xerox.  I got the thing, I guess the future is in good hands.  Couldn’t think of the right word.  If only there was a jazz ensemble backing me up, reflecting my every thought.  Perhaps then I wouldn’t be such a worthless individual.  Damn.  

I guess I’m excited for something but I can’t quite remember what.  I like that noose that mysteriously just appeared but I don’t believe that is the rich origin of my excitement.  The general aimlessness of the text was quite appealing to me though I acknowledge that aimlessness is perhaps not the best word.  I felt so alone when you were not there.  nothing the same.  I believe I am a fraud.  Need to investigate more.  Are we really all going to disappear?  Is this listed somewhere.  Intense stomach pains lately, rather unpleasant.  Tilt, oh yes, not too much can compare, isn’t that right?  Hard to believe it is possible to go on without….  A bit of dancing and crying because nothing is ever going to be the same.  Locking up the locksmith, eh?  Sounds mightily intriguing.  It seems my corruption knows no bounds, we are all on a steady descent.  

I think that is what I realized the other day.  All coming to a great sense of finality.  I suppose it doesn’t really matter much.  look how weak you are.  I think it’s time for you to go to sleep.  Such honeyed words.  

I’m pretty sure I’m watching a Dario Argento movie whilst I write this.  Or am I?  No, yes, I’m pretty sure that I am.  His very first one which remains one of my faves of the great giallos.  Must you insist on talking to me?  I suspect I’ve turned into a rather unsavory character.  I wouldn’t want to talk to me.  Those two executions were rather public and now we are bizarrely fielding questions from two different trials at two different points in the timestream.  Yet it all makes some beautiful cosmic sense.  Faith placed in me is surely faith misplaced.  Everything is roughly drawn.  I keep hearing a lullabye and want to go it.  then I step in some wet concrete.  I have not yet heard Radiohead’s new album though I suspect I’ll give it a good listen in a month or so.  Until then….  Bjork’s last album is/was not easy to listen to but that’s a good thing.  Things that used to make me feel better I’m not sure do anymore.  Me me me me me.  Am I being selfish or practicing singing opera?  I hope no one is living inside of me because that would be quite terrifying.  I think I have a slight crush on an imaginary cat burglar whom I only saw once.  I feel like this is my best friend.  Trussed up like a lovely….  

Still not quite sure why I do things.  ready to go to sleep?  Could there be two killers?  This was the question put forth.  I guess it makes some sense.  One black and one orange, two lovely colors.  Right on top of one another.  One takes the lead one day, the other another day.  It occurs to me now that I missed the celebration.  Why does no one recognize this?  Please do not be picking up on this energy.  That strange whispering I keep hearing is so frightening, man living inside the walls.  What are his children going to do?  Haha, he came to realize she was actually a trained assassin!  What are the odds?!  Could I whip this out in my sleep?  Probably not.  

Still feeling great about that last main even match.  That is how it should be.  Pure storytelling.  What greatness.  I need to see something else.  Maybe later today but probably not. As always, i’ll probably find the answers I seek in irreverence.  Dare to be absurd and all that.  I’m not sure how I feel about the photography on bbc shows.  A bit cold, is it not?  Oh, what do I know?  I’m just a foolish failure.  Is there really such a thing as taste? Get your feet out of the water already!  I don’t want to buy a painting today.  Don’t look me in the eyes.  they teach such sad ugly things.  it stands to reason though because this is a sad ugly world.  Nighty night?  oh, I think I heard a pop.  

That satisfaction after the fact is lovely. just desserts.  I hope you return soon.  Things are all out of order now.  Always in your corner.  It’s the shoes that really bring it all together.  I’m running low these days.  Someone screaming while glass is breaking.  It must be valentine’s day somewhere on earth.  Red and all that.  let’s not reenact that famed dinner.  We’re just all wild game for the final hunt.  Haha, how trite, I a laugh merrily to myself.  

Maybe we can squeeze a little more out of things.  I don’t even know where to begin.  What a waste, looking inside that storage, truly awful.  flake it til I bake it! that’s what I must do now.  Crystals in my eyes.  

Really good movie. Need to find a clean pristine dvd copy if one exists.  Oh Ms. Lepe!  And hosiery!  Everything to me….

the next one spoke of torture

  Man follows her home.  Just another day in this shitty place.  Don’t make me laugh with any explanations.  All those hoping that there exists a chance for redemption are going to walk away very very distraught.  

Still desperately looking for meaning anywhere.  What are those chants?  I don’t know who is truly saved anymore. I keep falling down stairs.  Tumbling and tumbling.  I’ve been missing out, the idiocy is far stronger than normal these wretched days.  

The Star two nights ago, was that not one of the greatest things ever?  Dear God, what is happening to me?!  But it was amazing.  Holy shit, as they say!  You deserve it!  Beautiful storytelling.  

I’m far more excited for Latina than Lemonade (no knock on Lemonade though) but I hope to give them both proper attention.  I’m so useless (just do it already). 

Fuck, why is everything so ugly now?  Inside and outside, how can we digest all this shit?  This must be what we deserve.  No doubt about that.  Foul foul things. 

Fish people, it all makes sense now.  He was right.  And I can’t seem to stop crying.  Perhaps another drink will help.  A profanation of the symbols of purity.  How appropriate.  How do we look at each other anymore?  What is this thing existing?  We’re just trying to scrub the black oil off.  

It is highly likely nothing is ever going to be okay ever again.
(Why don’t you just do it?)

New era and all that.  I suppose at some point everything old has to become new again.  how trite indeed.  the window is open and there is a nice breeze coming through. I feel like I’m right there at the bar even though I’m here at home.  I’m not quite ready for anything and that’s as true a statement has ever been uttered by me.  Perhaps I’m mostly upset because I can’t seem to locate a dvd copy of The Vampire and the Ballerina.  Such a beautiful film.  Make me cry.  Nets.  Or perhaps it has more to do with the fact that I’m an utter fucking failure.  Either or I guess.  Still slave to denier.  Don’t suppose there’s anything I’ll ever be able to do about that.  or is there?  

Having lived that – if only for an all too brief time – I can say it does evoke that feeling so….  Hug heart.  That is perhaps the secret which brings it all together.  Jim you might say.  And he Waits but it was the highest at the time.  so much chatter.  Don’t know who can be abandoned now.  That last thought is at least separate form everything else.  You have to ask your self sometimes what is intentional and what isn’t.  

Another day, another sign.  All similarities after a while.  Are they looking too hard.  Manifest destiny and all that.  still so hard, even in the dead of everything, to come up with anything.  I guess nothing makes sense.  Though I know it doesn’t really matter.  Never any decisive action.  Things keep going on.  Lets just throw some eels into it.  what kind of…if….

I’ll be fine I’ll be fine I’ll be fine hahahahahahaha
Let’s just serve it all up one big chopping block
I twitch and convulse everytime you….
Honestly, can anyone really understand anyone else anymore?

Too long and too comfortable inside a crucible.  Always that third type of person.  That does seem to make sense.  And change.  Set em up.  hating self so much.  I think we’re all out of the good times.  Nice deterioration.  No need to ask permission for any of these things, there are no keys.  It’s alive for now.  

Oopies. That is what you always said.  Just a bit of coldness but not the way you think.  Those few minutes can erase years.  In that delicate span of time everything is right. Even in those perfect moments he is doing level best to drown them.  Quite an unusual brand of happiness.  He created this tragedy and through that earned so much.  the attention.  For just a moment.  That was enough and everything else.  This homemade gift bought and sold and hidden underneath and lovingly inhaled later on.  If only to suffocate on….

And then this grim realization of the true character which lies underneath.  That’s how it always starts, right?  Isn’t that what they said?  You did not even realize it until it was right on you and breathing down your back.  And now you’ve turned into far uglier than what you’ve always pointed out.  Much better off without…much better off….

I understand now what they said about his voice, it makes such perfect sense.  What a fool I was for ever doubting.

How necessary to place on a pedestal sometimes.  The only healing thing.  

It’s getting quieter now.  Settling in.  this is the best part, right?  To be able to return to the masquerade ball.  That is the only thing.  Sometimes showing up with a clear mind, sometimes not but always find that broken and blissful understanding. Kiss.  Embrace. 

 
Only so much more, isn’t there?  never. 
In the field, the sun and blue and green.  And then burgundy and black.  Do you remember what he saw?  It hurts to confront its own because of all the hatred.  Hurts to speak in….  Best not to relive it that way.  Don’t be so bold.  

But there, walking through the field and freely giving life.  There are the many faces of….  A heart here.   Every single time she was always central.  All things being defined, she was in every single one of them.  Impossible to listen anymore without….  And the place where he bought it all.  And going there and wondering and laughing and dying.  Somewhere in there was loving and it was glorious.  Do you recall the generosity?  The renewal of spirit.  Always freely giving life.  Green that day. And the sweetest sound.  Head hurts a bit again.  but not for this.  Walking past and smiling.  So much transparency.  He has done so much to destroy it but never really succeeds.  Introductions echoing forever.  So lovely.  this is how it had to be, thankfully.  Everything else that followed but has anything truly…?  Always be the question.  No strength to even finish, right?  But these are guarded away and treasured.  Not to be used too much.  tears and just a tiny bit of pure.  Are they all one?  The very last time, has that arrived yet?  There will likely never be a chance to say thank you.  

Never been seen by anyone like you before.  
Still don’t know the color.  

Part of my design (love the new...!)

Only one day before.  Life is so sad, life is sad.  That little thing found in the store.  I wrap it around me like a blanket.  Only for you I don’t regret that I was….  None of my thoughts are truly mine.  Taking for granted.  Sexy Star, that was amazing.  Fantastic storytelling, greatness.  You deserve it!

  
Eric Avery and Peter Hook are two of my favorite bassists ever.  As I pore through the discography of Perry Farrell – including the latter two Jane’s Addiction albums – I am becoming more convinced of the irreplaceable importance of Avery’s contributions.  And Hook’s lines are so melodic and beautiful, so innovative and inspirational.  If I wasn’t such a worthless sack of shit I’d be able to better articulate my feelings on his playing and properly explain his greatness and significance as a bass player.  

And they understood, in the end they understood.  How could they grasp things so well and so eloquently?!  Oh she has….  Old man walked into the place and called her his love.  What’s happening to all of us?  Nothing without misery.  I’m gonna take you home.  Who says that to him?  He looks to sky skeptically, mockingly.  Who are we following, inventing new idols every single day?  On that most lovey dovey of days you wore white.  Do you remember that?  Pure white.  Immediate angelic connotations.  Then a splash of red.  Devilish.  Sumptuos.  Lovely.  Smile killing everyone

.  
Muse disappearing.  Keep coming back.  He thinks he has begged but the truth is something different.  There are no chance encounters, no opportunities to set things straight.  

The new Godzilla movie looks amazing.  I think I already mentioned that somewhere.  

The belief is not the problem.  people are simply awful.  

These are our earliest explorations in sexual experiences, aren’t they?  Where are you going to find me?  Buried somewhere and blissfully strangled.  Dolphins screaming.  More and more we are simply a group of very imperfect people.  Are we all just pretending and is our salvation a myth etched on a crumbling statue?  Her arm around his throat and applying ever more pressure while whispering sweet nothings into his ear, her breath hot against his skin.  Wrapped tightly around. Squeezing.  Belittling. Humiliation.  Dominance.  Wonder  
When did profanity become so lovely?  “You are so fucking…!”  With that perfect it inflection it is oh so yum.  

I don’t know about the color blue anymore.  I’m listening to her again.  She is becoming one of my all-time favorites.  What color are those shoes again?  Thank you for keeping everything so interesting.  Inflections are blowing things up as they should be.  I think I am going to fall very hard.  His twisted logic makes sense to him alone.  Why don’t we feel more for those who are genuinely trying?  

Please, he does not want to rob this happiness away from anyone.  Let him see her smiling, in her eyes smiling.  When you strip away everything else what are you left with?

It is best not to teach anyone to look into their eyes.  this is highly recommended though, right?  We have to keep the machine turning.  Every experience must be unique and special and highly pleasurable.  I cannot justify anything.  

I am not a master of clocks nor have I ever been.  Joy seems to last for a few seconds and then things turn a not so nice shade again.  Morning?  Or mourning?  Either way where is the….  They both wonder this.  Those lights certainly help things in the immediate sense don’t they?  Everyone takes it for granted but only because they is nothing actually there.  When will you ever learn?  This isn’t about wearing black gloves.  The ache is still the same.  At this point, does anyone really know what anyone else is talking about?  Aren’t we all just spouting nonsense?  Maybe I should just play a rousing game of solitaire while slamming my face against a brick wall!  As a child I was always fascinated by how bricks are made and with the brick laying process.  Wonderful things, bricks; the building blocks of life you might say.  

I never quite know when I’ve plucked enough feathers.  He thinks perhaps it is time to make a list of all the centrals.  Through that everything can be returned time and time again.  like floating down the river with no destination except it is finally the….  Muses.  Nothing can afford to be forgotten anymore.  It is all so fleeting and hard to come by.  Was there a tiger staring at me from the foot of my bed?  Why do I feel so scared?  Oh God please don’t let it get near me please don’t let it touch me.  

We’re in a mountain somewhere and now I’m on my back.  He wonders why they always look him directly in the eyes but finally he understands.  It is so awfully hard to talk to people anymore.  What is this strange stuff we have covering our bones.  Headaches.  Sleepiness.  All over again and again.  I must lose weight and then tan.  
I don’t know what it’s called but I really like that hip hairstyle women are rocking where they kind of shave part of one side.  When done right it looks very cute!  What the heck do I know though?  My opinion doesn’t matter!  I’m as ugly and repulsive as they come!  Batten down the hatches now!  All aboard!!!  

Let this not be true please let this not be true.  You’ve created this cacophonic thing but somehow it encompasses everything inside.  Why can’t he express anything?  Who has been holding his tongue all this time?  This head is always pointing in a down direction.  I thank all the ones who still talk about you.  How many years did you say again?  It’s me, it’s just me and I might one day know again what that means.  Don’t let me in.  I don’t think I said that to anyone recently but I might have.  Can’t go anymore, that sounds right.  Lights up and chatter stops.  Everything exposed and ugly.  As it should be.  And always blurry these days.  

I fuck up every night and sleep all day.  

waltz up above

I read over old passages and thought about you.  Then I listened to some new old-style country music and the same thing happened.  That last description really did a disservice though.  I am not a nice person.   Maybe “nice” should be changed to “good”.  Don’t start looking for handouts now, it’s unbecoming.  

I have not been back since you left long ago.  It’s all stolen, don’t you understand that?
Sadness now in place of ecstasy.  It’s hard to figure out why he feels the way he does.  Is she waiting for you?  Just for that one hour, that one small moment that can be everything.  

Talking to people is bleeding.  

There was a man today who asked me who Brian Ship is.  He interrupted the conversation to ask me that question.  If he’d been paying better attention he would have realized the error inherent in his question.  My head hurt very badly and I did not respond to him.  That was very rude and I knew it in the moment.  He seemed pleasant enough I suppose.  I know he meant well, perhaps just desperately trying to form any sort of connection – aren’t we all (are we?)?  but I just couldn’t.  The thought of speaking to him was painful.  There is some lovely and shiny new ambience on the way to greet me though.  

Bret Easton Ellis called batman v superman one of the best movies of 2016.  I wonder what that means.  I often wonder what anything means.  There is too much dust inside.  She is looking remarkably well.  That is not a blue car at all but I will always remember it as such.  More punk, right?

I am curious where everything has gone though.  He is just going to open up the same thing all over again.  There are going to be many more tears this time.  Somewhere, it is shattering and then coming back together, music in the background, bliss.  We break for coffee and fingers graze a shoulder and this is the only moment ever of true doubtless happiness.  And there is still the night ahead.  The day is meaningless, light years away.  

This is real somewhere, I think.  There is also the masquerade ball, more real than anything, always repeating, always sad and wonderful.  Confronting the emptiness in everything.  Everything weighs so much.  Who the hell do you think you are?  I don’t know anymore.  Cue laughter.  Oh she has…green, blue, grey.  And you’ll never know.  

Tenderness.  So much deserved.  He asks for forgiveness and hopes it is real.  It is hard to tell the difference anymore.  Something is so wrong.  But no, this is deserved.  Everything that can be given for free. And it feels so heavy again.  Every word weighs a ton.  And it presses down on his chest and in his stomach and inside his head on his eyes.  This is funny, isn’t it?  

See the corner there, the light barely coming through the curtains.  I don’t know about this.  
New life.  Where has he been?  Where have you been?  Did it all come true?  There is too much awfulness already so please tell me it came true.  There should be nothing which changes your….  Was there ever anything real?  

Yes.  Don’t forget anything.  The details are so rich; she is painting inside of you.  The colors are beautiful.  Teal and magenta and black.  Oh, everything is excruciating.  Pain in head will not ever go away.  Everything is tensed and awful.  But inside there may be one little reprieve, a final place to live.  They are the same, right?  First the talk, the drinks, then the masquerade ball.  Tears all.  Tears always.  Nothing ever figured out.  No reason or understanding gained.  
Yes, she wonders.  She shares.  And she sees, just once.  Maybe….

It all comes back, harder to form anything anymore.  Crucible.  Third type.  

I need that bad stuff to make me feel better.  No, they had it right.  It doesn’t make anything come back.  But things go away for awhile, right?  There are no rules about anything anymore.  
I think I’ll go finish watching Tokyo Tribe.  It’s the middle of the night after all and there a lovely new bottle of vodka dying to meet me.  You know, I actually got my first job because I was the only one of the 17 applicants who owned a new pair of shoes.  True story.  This is the humorous part of things.  it’s good to temper stuff with humor.  Scott always gets that.  

Did you feel it when she fell?  Please do not let that be true.  The river is singing so beautifully.  It is quite a comforting thought, surrounded by blackness.  Everything would be heaviness then he supposes.  Likely a moment of extreme pain.  And then.  Warmth perhaps.  Safety and solitude and comfort.  The kind he or everyone is always searching to reclaim.  Though his search is somewhat built on false pretenses, right?  It was never truly given to him.  He was an unwanted guest.  

But no, not quite right.  Must change the course.  Bite into something.  Teeth are starting to hurt from all that exertion.  It doesn’t really matter though.  So calming though it is unfortunate that I came so very late.  Is it possible to make up for all the lost time?  Don’t try and be clever or cute anymore.  His disappointment was everywhere and….  Eyes so heavy and hands trembling.  This is not right at all.  even with everything shimmering in the background.  

But to end with such loveliness.  Was there genuine concern in her eyes, the soft lilt of her voice?  she offers it, hidden at first and then with a smile.  Everything is going to be okay.  This is a lie and everything is blurry because he realizes it for the first time.  But it doesn’t matter anymore.  The words were enough.  The look was enough.  Everything is blurry but he can still see her.  Everything is going to be okay.  I’m going to stay with you.  Until….

Todo va a estar bien. Me voy a quedar contigo. Hasta….