Cubist synths is a great term for what eventually
transpired. Sometimes I imagine what must have been a magical place of
orange and gray with so much wealth springing forth though importantly not the
type of wealth found in musty old sheds or through covetous hastily scrawled on
slips of paper. I shined a light in back of both of them and as it shone
through I knew which was the one. I walked away quite pleased
though the emptiness inside myself was present and more prescient all the
time. What to do, what to do? I know something is very wrong.
Bleach blonde. Down to the waist. This can work I think. No, I’m certain of it, works very, very, exceedingly well. She knew she could get the information out of him. Look me in the eyes. I’m not playing. Cuando yo necesito information, yo lo voy a lograr. Denim and pink as well, right? right down to the laces. Everything goes stream. Please use the taser. Threaten. Mock, burlar. And laugh, everything is so much better when laughing all the while. Such fullness and generosity. Fugitives, right? I’m all tangled up in this. Interlock fingers. Screaming but don’t let go. This perspective is so glorious. Punishment so glorious, you must deserve a crown. Pink bandana. Pink fringe on everything. lips. So bountiful.
The broken language of the slaughterhouse. If brains were shit…. Will I see the penitentiary? It may be so that in the very near future I will be sitting in a darkened room watching some bright pretty colors but I’m not 110% sure. It would be bad to ask for a bit of personalization, wouldn’t it? That sweet rose colored imprint. Which would I even choose? Something that appeared quite evil, yes? And surely the accompanying verbiage would reflect this, no choice whatsoever. Loser. What a lovely lovely word when spoken from honeyed lips. This is all so wrong.
Can’t we all finally move past the mystical (or is it magical?) minority character? Who else may be guilty of this? I recently purchased Scream Factory’s lovely deluxe treatment of Michael Mann’s classic Manhunter. Dante Spinotti’s cinematography makes me drool and squeal with glee. I was watching baseball last night and shortly after saw an advertisement for a female football team. It was intriguing, primarily because of their brazen and intoxicating sexuality; full derrieres on generous display. They seemed in quite good athletic shape but I was not able to determine if they are participating in a legitimate sport or this league is something akin to the lingerie bowl (or perhaps intrinsically linked) and instead designed primarily for titillation. Or perhaps it is both! I have no great stake in things either way but it did pique my curiosity.
What is he playing with these days? I’m a very shy boy; I would love to meet me sometime. The Madame, that was the last thing he was able to utter. Over the face. Did Dos Equis pay a bit for some coverage? Come to the realization that so very few true ones exist. I was in line somewhere the other day and an older obese man was speaking with an older portly woman – possibly his wife – about a tall energy drink he was guzzling in that very moment. He checked the ingredients and over the course of roughly four minutes analyzed them for health and effectiveness. His gut was massive and disgusting and I internally questioned his choice of beverage. The line was slow moving and their conversation inescapable though the banality of made me feel quite horrible though I could and cannot adequately explain why. Making my purchase, I found myself unable to look the checkout lady directly in the eyes. I paid, thanked her and left without taking my receipt. It was a relief to be in my car again.
At some point afterward I put on the movie Barry Lyndon and then wept quietly for about five straight hours though I did find time to slip on Bish Bosch. Please let us all keep wasting time and wasting life. We are monsters of eight. Speaking as a former paste eater I should have left the green grass at the gates with the metal eggs, stupid me. Stupid, stupid me. Questions remain, eh cousin? Why exactly did he go insane? I don’t suppose that will ever be answered but I believe one day I will be screaming and running down a green hallway.
The answer to the question of life is a….
I loves the stop motion effects during the end of the original The Evil Dead. Where did all the great stop motion effects in this world go? Do I prefer Manhunter to The Silence of the Lambs? It’s a distinct possibility. But is the comparison, the choice, really necessary? Probably not. But man, is it sumptuous. But hell, I honestly didn’t realize how sure-footed Demme’s direction is on Silence until my very last viewing, it’s brilliant fucking stuff!
No, please don’t do that to me anymore. Please don’t hurt me anymore! Madame, flowers and dark chocolates. Whatever I can afford from the wishlist. Please use the ones with the pattern. Grim obsession is certainly taking over. Is it necessary to put them on everything? not sure what I’ve seen or what exactly I’ve been thinking. the idea of it being forced is so wonderful. I have that image of spinning and spinning. I believe she caught him in that one moment, not so slick, eh?
Oh, I love love those practical effects in the Evil Dead movies, especially the stop motion stuff at the end of the first one. On an unrelated note my copy of Alice should arrive in 3 weeks or so. Mail is so damn fast!
I’ll probably be losing everything tomorrow. Or is that today? Right now.
Assassin’s Creed trailer. Hmmm, not crazy about the use of that song. I would like to wake to M. Cottilard like that, especially if she’s evil (can’t tell if she is or not). Doesn’t look great but I think that’s been quite a good two-for-two director so that will be enough to get my pale hirsute ass in the theatre seat!
The elements survive as the prophet saves the one who fell. This muse. Please be well.
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