don't like the new city of gold (not edited again bc no one cares, especially yours falsely!)

Boy do I hate myself.  I don’t think I could ever possibly hate anyone as much as I hate myself.  Very soon I think I need to squeeze some medium sized plastic bottles.  I was raging this morning over some very  innocuous things.  Lunar Park so far is a great book.  I would recommend it to anyone who fancies herself or himself a writer.  I am very much looking forward to Wonder Woman this Thursday.  Those folks getting mad over the Alamo theatre screenings are morons.  I am constantly taken aback at how many morons there are in the world and the depth of their idiocy, myself included of course.  I need to keep running.  I need help and guidance.  I can’t give anything up.  Jazz music is playing in the background.  And there are giant insects. Lets play William Tell after I’ve had a few drinks!  

There were pink hubcaps inside my brain and I hated to say a certain name(s) so many times but I was still forced to and I kept wanting to slam my head against the mirror and I quite liked the idea of it drawing blood and then I would laugh or something.  I don’t feel about it.  that’s what I told my doctor.  But maybe I should feel bad about it.  I need to see my doctor again.  A Zappa Beefheart Mothers album arrived in the mail today and I look forward to listening to it but where the heck is my Bergman film?  Maybe I’ll eat coconut later.  oh we are all so very awful.  hahaha, that’s me laughing to and about myself.  We do things for absolutely no reason.

You are deluding yourself my friend.  My word, I just realized no one actually cares, we’ve just all convinced ourselves to go through the motions.  How can I take this?  I was driving by a lake earlier and there was something awful about it.  thankfully, Miles Davis was playing and made things a bit less awful.  I see my lifeless body dangling from the ceiling.  Please forgive the thought process.  Maybe later on I’ll go out and buy some crap I don’t need.  Don’t pull the oxygen tank out of the bone under my face!  I can’t breathe!!!  I keep a mirror in my shoe.  There was a tireiron dancing the hokey pokey right outside my door and I proceeded to walk outside and scorch myself under a blazing blue sun.  I tell you it scorched like a thousand evil mad sorcerers.  We are drifting away.  Let’s go on a date!  My fault, my fault.  I didn’t get the joke.  

I just watched an interview with Ray Liotta.  Or did I? Only time will tell.  Stupid fucking dinosaurs.  I realized then we are living in an awful world. We are covering up everything.  walking how many miles because you are you are a whiny thing.  The repetition was intentional.  It was the antacids that drove me insane.  Emboss me!  Hahaha, that made me laugh out loud so hard I bit my tongue off and then promptly mailed it to a woman who works in a public place who I’ve long had a crush on!  Two postage stamps!  That’s my trademark.  I very nearly papercut my eye!  That would have really put a damper on my already miserable evening!  Boy I’m a worthless person.  

Most people view me as a protector of chimps but the truth is I desperately want to buy a powder blue suit and pair it with a yellow tie but I know I could never pull it off due to my fat disgusting body and the fact that it is regrettably always paired with my ugly-as-fuck face!  Don’t make me kiss a dead guy’s jewelry!  Who is that strange man talking to me from my wall?  Ahhh medium.  I love putting a fan on medium and letting it blow in my fat ugly face.  Gyroscopes make virtual reality even better!  

I hate myself beyond belief. There is a great movie on in the background right now and it stars Rebecca Hall who is an actress I greatly admire.  I listened to part of an album called Bongo Fury today.  Tomorrow I hope to listen to the rest of it.  I recommend it to anyone who likes great things.  The first half of Low sums it all up, often exactly how I feel.   I think in another life I was probably a bag of muffins or a plate of multicolored cupcakes.  In another life maybe I was successful.  In another life maybe I was happy.  I must return to the swamp.  Maybe I’ll watch Santa Sangre again later today.  There is a part in there that reminds me a bit of a part from the movie Inferno (an underrated work by Argento in my humble and utterly worthless opinion).  I need to buy an upright bass and wear a funny hat.  I need to cook up some sausages.  Love a cookout!  But which I will do first!?  only time will tell.  Time, patience, the right berries.  Those three things can cure anything.  I’m in love with Gina Carano.  I sprayed some Oxi-Clean on my door today and stood there for 11 minutes looking at it.  I got up early to read but I didn’t.  it’s not what it seems but it is.  the CD case fell of my head and hit the floor.  Lets fight about a cheeseburger.  Malapropisms are running rampant these days.    Headscissors with hosiery; how wonderful.

 Brian was quite right in that we haven’t gone any farther than this. What a bizarre desire, to be drilling through the Spiritus Sanctus tonight.  Is there any familiarity there?  I think I’m going to start eating paste.  Label me a paste-eater if you must, if that makes you comfortable.  Oh you humans and your labels.  

The movie Haywire is on in the background.  I love this film.  I need it in my life.  I just found a great list related to another great thing.  It feels like one large work just split up into 18 parts.  I am salivating in anticipation.  My posh flat is flooded with saliva due to all my anticipation and now I have to traverse my humble home via canoe.  

Still need to get that XFL tattoo.  I hate me so fucking much!!!!!  

night ainting (unedited because who really cares?!)

I would like to be treated by a therapist who openly mocks me.  I’ve often longed to have therapy sessions with someone who’s named starts with the letter M but only in an alternate reality where the name would not start with that letter.  How much sense does that make?  I imagine some seafood oriented dinners whilst we are somewhere near the Palazo Vechio.  Oh, is it that type of party?  Screwdriver straight to the brain.  No, not a screwdriver.  Something else.  

There was a factory.  I think he loves factories and machinery and gears and working parts and wood.  I know for a fact that he loves wood.  

It was necessary to remove metal and evacuate spheres.  Even with the spheres taken care of there is still the psychology to consider.  Psychology.  How richly appropriate.  

I listened to the album Binaural by Pearl Jam a fair amount today.  I find it to be one of the most difficult discs in their catalogue but something still keeps me coming back.  I also listened to a fair bit of What’s Going On by Marvin Gaye.  It is still a perfect album.  I attempted to learn the basslines from Breakerfall from the former and What’s Happening Brother from the latter.  I was much more successful at one than the other.  Jeff Ament and James Jamerson are both awesome and inspiring bassists.  

Doing God’s work.  Are you going to deny God?  Two complete opposite sources.  One beautiful and one almost impossibly ugly.  I must do my best to forget the ugly one.  That is all.

I took a long walk down a taupe colored labyrinth and this was commented on.  I could only stare in one direction the entire time.  Why, oh why?!  This is a question I always ask though it does not bother to ask.  We all love temptation.  Everything was very soothing.  There was colored smoke which entered my pores and filled me with affordable renewable energy.  Opposite this there was a graceful waterfall spilling over some rocks.  Graceful is an interesting word here; not quite a root word, that is not the right way to put it but I think I know what I mean.  Little card.  Those were amazing and so tall.  They was almost a familiar and joyous pattern, it was so close.  Close enough.  

There were teal mountains and burnt sienna.  These came to mind later on but at the time also.  So many questions and history and joyous not tedious at all paperwork.  I was working on the finals in high school and college and there was only 5 minutes left and I was not going to be able to finish and it gave me a kind of giddy excitement.  I felt the same thing today, didn’t I, I ask to myself?!  I had to go to one place to pick up one small thing (it was actually two small things, thin as paper) and then I had to take said thing to a place and that place would send the things to the original place but it all went so very wrong so I no choice but to return to the place and then venture back to the original place, back to where this thick gorgeous madness all began.  Oh, he fell so very madly in love.  Everything was swaying back and forth.  Black and turquoise and black again.  

Queen Isis.  I suppose it started with her but she is far from the end of it. Skirt is sometimes better, right?  But now, after that fateful number everything is in such clarity.  You know, I wanted to name a pet Tiffany.  Would that have been wrong? 

I finished a rather lovely tome.  I imagine loving and comforting arms at the moment of my death and wonder if I deserve.  I would likely conclude that no, I don’t deserve that.  I think I cried several times today but who can really be sure and more importantly who really gives a flying fuck?!  That is the question (I have no face).  I must do more reading in regards to various places and sightings.  I don’t suppose I matter very much, do I?  I do love the little flip over the top rope.  Oh, I am so unbelievably awful.  Everyone who knows me must hate me.  I am a disgusting ugly awful.  I hate myself so much.  Did I cry yesterday? Probably.  I am just a colossal ugly worthless fuckup.  Nothing more but possibly something less.  I need to remember to recommend that friend of a friend the graphic novel I mentioned at the birthday party. Oh I am fucking ugly and stupid and worthless. Sometimes I feel like I’m choking, like I actually cannot breathe and it is because of how fucking stupid and repulsive and ugly and disgusting and useless I am.  Fuck I fucking hate myself so fucking much. 

At last 10:08 (reverse two of those numbers) arrives and I am elated though at the same time my rich doom may be sealed.  Every square can be made out.  It was wrapped around my head while it was still on the glass.  

Tactile.  I must stick things to it and then  and then add the colors.  I need the texture and fullness of it all.  this can be a tribute to everything.  every small minor tiny thing.  

And I’ll be back tomorrow!  Isn’t the most crazy damndest thing of all!?  You never learn!  Someone said that to me in liquid form.  A prophet was making guacamole.  Guacamole was then in her shoes by grace and stayed there throughout the entire day before being forcibly inserted into his mouth at the end of the day while she berated him!  Prophet to prophet perhaps?!  

He was not expecting one so full and volumptuos!  How could he?!  So tempestuous!  So wonderous!  Delete the address!  Delete the address.  Tomorrow morning then guac then coffee then spheres.  (P)

Tactile again.  Yes, tactility.  If I only something could be sculpted from all your chewed chewing and/or bubblegum.  If only I could be a piece of gum that you chewed (after you recently ate chips or something similarly crunchy) and then spit out and then accidentally stepped on wit those.  Tactile.  Yes, to be crushed between your teeth.  

I love Tim Burton’s original Batman!  Great pop art feel!  I love the Prince soundtrack for it!  Keaton is still the best Batman.  BY FAR!!!  Basquiat’s paintings and Mark Rothko’s paintings I love!  

I watched the documentary David Lynch: The Art Life yesterday and found it to be most inspiring.  The new season of Twin Peaks has made me appreciate and even love Inland Empire.  And by that I mean I also love the new Twin Peaks season!  I guess I’m just a fanboy!  I don’t care!  Love!  Inspiration!  Art!

Maybe I should just watch Barry Lyndon again!  Too late!  

OMG!!! He was vomiting up pain and sorrow in the form of creamed corn!!!

How can I possibly write about something so inscrutable?  

3 was my favorite I think.  If someone would put a gun to my head I would definitely say 3 was my favorite.  I was recently in the home of a beloved friend and I playfully put a gun to my head.  A big black gun.  It actually belonged to someone other than my friend though it was there in a nice box for safe keeping.  It was an unusual sensation.  We discussed what a poor day for him it’d be if I’d actually gone through with it or if an accident had taken place. Likely, there would have been a long moment of stark shock mingled with the toxic flowing silence immediately following the big bang (not the hypothetical creation of the universe).  Then there would be the necessary phone call(s) along with plentiful and uncomfortable explanation to uniforms and folks in the inner circle.  It would certainly necessitate alternate sleeping arrangements for several nights and perhaps a total upheaval of a freshly painted interior (I was present for only a very small part of that though we did joyously make time for black coffee and looking at some beautiful women wearing fishnet hosiery, one of several fatal weaknesses for yours falsely.  But am I talking about of the coffee or the fishnet hosiery or somehow radically both?).  

But yes, 3 was definitely it.  I came to that conclusion after talking to an electric tree which had a flesh growth on top.  Don’t go all Freudian on me, please!  Sometimes a glass box is just a glass box!  I love the expansiveness of a freeway passing through a scorching desert.  And where the hell was I?  Was I out in space or something?  This is precisely what makes everything so great and necessary and proves once and for all what a worthless individual I am.  I was following a woman with no eyes to the very top.  The cover story was loosey goosey.  That man disappeared in a puff of smoke and southern fried screams some twenty-six odd years ago.  Who killed her?  She looked damn fine!  And a bit like someone I knew but I could not place it.  Thank You so much for this! 

There was a sensation of a large mound of guacamole being forcefully inserted into my mouth whilst I screamed in primal fear and mortal agony.  

I guess those were the events as they unfolded.  There was the possibility of a sweet betrayal.  If there existed the possibility of a white collared shirt with long sleeves – a glorious return of such – then this betrayal would be much more guaranteed.  Traitor.  Treachery.  It’s okay. I’ve dealt with industrial saboteurs before.  Oh, if only.  You should have warned me!  I nearly watched that movie about noodles the other day.  It seemed richly appropriate.  There was a real tactile desire there.  This was created with a very tactile approach.  Close proximity.  Yellow.  Cornflower.  Yellow and black.  Durcal.  Not quite Durcal but you get the idea, don’t you?  It all comes down to secret codes.  There was a whole history created in that moment.  A history which has never and will never happen except all at once and for always.  There were drinks and dancing and laughing and long lovely nights where the morning remained light years away.  And then she was in his arms while the pigs were kept at bay and then he was resting his dark sleek head against her shoulder.  

I am looking forward to Shakira’s new album later this week.  I’m still constantly listening to Sofia Rei’s De Tierra y Oro album.  That album came at the perfect time and calms my restless and worthless spirit.  And damn!  Jorge Roeder’s bass playing on that release is some of the best and most sumptuous my waxy earholes have been blessed to hear!  And the production by those two really lets that gorgeous upright bass sound breathe as it should.  If only I lived in a purple tinged apartment with a purple ocean outside and where every day and every moment was nighttime!  I think I need to listen to more Frank Zappa.  

When I saw my own shadow was evil born?  Please don’t let this intense feeling of inspiration be taken away!  I am so very unworthy.  

I think it looks rather silly when a guitarist or bassist wears a trench coat on stage while playing.  That’s just my opinion, folks!  Please don’t crucify me just for having an opinion.  We should all hit the treadmill once in a while!  Anyone for tennis?!  Gotta love Looney Tunes!

I need to buy and voraciously read that trilogy penned by Henry Miller.  How could I have been so ignorant, filthy and degenerate?!  All I’ve ever read by him is Tropic of Cancer!  Depressingly predictable, am I right?  Yes, I am not very well read.  I am in blunt terms a fucking idiot!  But maybe there is still time to turn it all around.  Maybe there’s still time to save me from myself and get my head on straight!  

Is sex always the gateway to evil?  Is that moment in the blue when we discovered the empire inside of us comparable to that gold-panning man climbing up through the window and entering surreptitiously?  There was pleasure at first.  And then suspicions and then questions.  And finally, there was screaming.  I did something horrifying yesterday but I know it was actually tomorrow.  

I saw that very same red lamp at a dingy strip club once.  I left as she was about to go on stage.  I’m not talking about the lamp.

I like Martin Scorsese’s remake of Cape Fear quite a lot.  Robert De Niro and Juliette Lewis give electrifying performances!   What a colorful film. Literally.  Ol’ Marty’s direction and the cinematography is so super ultra-flashy almost to the point of inducing a minor headache!  But I liked that aspect.  The whole thing was the right amount of over the top.  I’m just not a very good writer.    

The Twin Peaks premiere was amaze-balls as the youngsters like to say.  I was up til all mad-monkey hours of the morning.  Four hours I lived there.  Tears of joy.  Pure.  Love.  It felt very much like the serialized television equivalent of a latter day Scott Walker song!  You know, something from Tilt or The Drift or Bish Bosch.  That is most assuredly a very good thing. 

“What the hell?”  What a line!  Perfectly delivered.  

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So I saw Alien: Covenant last night.  I love the poster. 

A few years on and it hit me like a sack of bricks while I was driving: Curse of Chucky is a shockingly satisfying movie, especially considering it is the sixth entry in a horror series!  Fiona Dourif was great!  Great!  I look forward to Cult of Chucky out later this year and it is currently the only thing I have to stay my hand after Twin Peaks concludes at the end of summer.  We’ll see if it is strong enough.    

The super card of honor.  Eleven.  I would have shown up at 5 PM Eastern.  But would I have left promptly at 6:30 PM (also Eastern?).  That is the interesting question (only to me).  Truly, only the Underground is getting it right as far as that goes.  I’m of course only referring to the continental U.S.  It was quite good.  Quite quite good.  I would have stayed an eternity for merch, photographs and felt tip pens.  As we traverse further down these dreams I catch them at just the right moment.  Afterward.  From one identity to another.  Don’t (talking to myself) use a word that’s like “change”.  After the work, after the job.  Perfume.  Going to simply toss.  I make an offer.  No object.  Breathe it in.  deep.  

Director James Wan has released a couple pictures of Amber Heard as Mera from his upcoming Aquaman movie and all I can say is humina humina humina!  Joy! 

Tom Hardy is playing Venom in a Venom solo movie!  That is weird!  Good casting though!  Gimme a nice mean beefy Venom!  Can’t be any worse than Spider-Man 3!  Actually, yeah it can because both Amazing Spider-Man movies were worse and it is Sony at the helm again!  I hope we get a lot of references to Todd McFarlane’s classic art and another bizarre voice from Hardy! 

Too much thinking of Kong lately.  And I’m not talking about the cinema icon.  And there’s The Little Star, returning to haunt my dreams again.  The most pretty.  Also, the most….   

And just like that.  After seeing a quickly made, colorful and gaudy poster I realize I’m living in the wrong place. What a fool I am.  What I’ve always been.  What a fool I’ll always be.

Yes, we are finally seeing remastered blu ray releases of Suspiria and Don’t Torture a Duckling!  Thank You!!!  Thank You so much!!! 

The violent seizure of someone’s property is my bold new obsession!  Don’t forget the accent over the n.  Blue or black.  And Dern.  Dern is also part and parcel of this boldness and newness.  The pages were tall.  Oh, the UK and its crazy tall periodicals. 

I think O is the answer.  Avid followers of my worthless work will know exactly what that means.  O is the example I need to follow for everything else.  For the real Jackal.  For my Rhapsody in Blue.  Heaven scent.  O is the proof positive of everything.  but is it really O or a doppelganger from an alternate dimension?  Would that make a difference? Or would that be preferable?  

Twin Peaks starts up again this Sunday.  I’ve been slowly but surely going through the old series, this time with a drinking buddy.  I’ve discovered nuance I missed in my initial viewings.  I am reassessing and reevaluating.  I’m drinking a lot of coffee and eating a lot of pie.  I am saddened that Lynch said he will likely never make another movie.  Since his last flick – Inland Empire – came out in 2006 I am inclined to believe him.  Yet I am grateful for what is to come and filled with girlish glee over this upcoming 18-episode saga.  

Forced kissing.  Green.  Escape.  The last one won’t make much sense after a while.  

Rabbit sitcoms.  I guess I need to look within.  It is something very easy to admire but not easy to like or love.  And good heavens, is it ever ugly!  But is there a kind of rough beauty in the ugliness?  I think so.  If I want shock value I guess I better look in the mirror.  We’re all just whores dying in the street.  Brutal fucking murder!  The hour of the wolf is nigh.  I am filled with curiosity.  Experiment is the proper word.  The end result is endlessly fascinating.  If only I could get my hands on those polish tunes.  Get it in wax!  It is certainly a bizarre denouement.  Of course, I say to myself as my head goes light, how utterly proper.  

I really like that Bowie b-side Holy Holy. Is it a b-side?  Whatever, I like it.  Rapine, just in case I forget.  Won’t forget the accent though. 

Sofia Rei’s album De Tierra Y Oro is so gorgeous and necessary right now.  She has a new album out, a tribute to Violeta Parra.  I need to purchase this immediately! And Café Tacuba’s new album!  There! I just ordered the new Café Tacuba album!  Rei is next on my list! And Shakira’s new album comes out in a week!  And she just released that song “Nada”!  Damn, that is a beautiful song!  Classic Shakira!  Gave me all the right feels!  Or did it?  Lots of sunny and lovely Latin tunes for yours falsely as of late! 

Maybe I need to do TM.  Is that a viable option?  Would it be a helpful option?  Would I be able to catch bigger fish if I started? I have a thousand dollars lying around.  I should purchase a word.  Or should I begin an epic journey into Ju-Jitsu?!  I would probably fail at both avenues.  

So the trailer for the new Star Trek show Star Trek Discovery premiered yesterday and everyone got their knickers in a twist about it!  Or did they?!  Honestly, it’s hard for me to gauge popular reaction sometimes.  Partly because I’m a miserable worthless failure but also partly because I’m not very intelligent or perceptive.  But what is my reaction?  That is the big question that literally no one is asking.  Immediately, I am excited simply at the prospect of having a new Star Trek show after what feels like an eternity since those dark days of Star Nemesis and then Enterprise fading way (though I actually adored that Troi was unexpectedly in the final episode as I’ve long considered Deanna Troi to be one of the great loves of my life).  I am immediately chagrinned it is another prequel series, seemingly taking place after Enterprise and before the original series.  Did we need another prequel series?!  I only hope and pray it does not have the same feel as the newer Abram Star Trek movies as I have slowly begun to despise those.  Woe is me.  But overall, I’m damn excited!  How could not I be?!  I’m always excited for any new iteration of Trek and the trailer had all kinds of good glossy shiny slickness!  And Klingons (though I’m not crazy about their design)!  And Michelle Yeoh!  She’s awesome!  I will try to remain Roddenberryish optimistic and go in with an open heart and mind!

I actually liked the Black Lightning trailer better!  Looks like that’s another damn series I’ll have to watch!

Finally. Sadly.  I saw you several years ago at Red Rocks in Colarado. Soundgarden and Nine Inch Nails.  That is a good memory.  Great show.  I saw you last year by yourself in a little theatre across from an Italian bistro.  Lovely show.  Soundgarden.  Temple of the Dog.  Audioslave.  Solo albums.  Everything in between.  Thanks for all the music, concerts and memories.  RIP Chris Cornell.  

right after, please drop the bridge on me

When I woke up this morning I walked over to the balcony and admired the gorgeosity of the day.  I felt like it was for me.  Still, my strongest desire was to crawl back into bed, grab a gun and blow my brains out.  I did not follow that path.

I errored.  Hot damn, did I error.  Multiple errors in so many different ways.  I did what Roland sometimes accused people of doing.  How I loathe myself.  

His tallywacker suckin’ is all she wants.  

World War Z was a giant pile of crap so I am beyond heartbroken that David Fincher has decided to further degrade his once great career by directing the sequel!  I half-kid. WWZ was indeed awful but I guess Fincher hasn’t degraded himself that much.  Still, with Benjamin Button, Girl with the Dragon Tattoo, Gone Girl and now this I must simply resign myself to the fact that the Fincher of yore who made such great films as Seven, Zodiac and even The Social Network (which to be fair did come after Benjamin Button) no longer exists.  Oh Fincher, why have you forsaken me?!  

The Shining is one of my favorite movies of all time.  I can’t deny that.  I wouldn’t even dream of denying it.  

It’s happening again.  The morning sun on their faces really shows their age.  I don’t like actor Sean Penn but I caught the 90’s movie Dead Man Walking on the ol’ television recently.  Good flick.  

She looked like Barbi.  Not the doll though.  I ain’t talking about the doll.  Or maybe it wasn’t exactly like her.  I think it was though, maybe an older version.  Maybe a version from several years later.  there was a moment of comfort.  She showed me her soul.  Soul isn’t quite right.  I think it is something similar though.  There is a plurality.  Where were?  Something catastrophic had maybe just happened.  It was a wonderful moment no unlike real life. 

Those who follow my worthless work no doubt recall I am a huge fan of Stephen King’s The Dark Tower series.  I’ve read the entire series a whopping two times and plan to reread it before the movie comes out in August.  However I was not convinced at all by the recently released trailer.  Woe is me.  Idris Elba and Matthew M look perfectly cast as Roland Deschain and his foil Randall Flagg AKA The Man in Black but other than that…whatever, I lost interest in my thoughts.  Love the books.  Movie doesn’t look great.  I like some of the music.  I like the casting.  I’ll still be there opening night.  I’m such a useless person. 

I was just trying to show.  Trying to provide a clear example.  The before and after.  The great nothing.  The ease with which it was all (not) accomplished.  But I was robbed on this chance.  Deservedly so.  There was black and then blue, my Rhapsody in Blue.  And now there is only the Jackal and the Witch and my eyes are on both.  He knows that she saw him.  He is an ugly pathetic thing.  

Marcela.  Love. 

Tomorrow – and by tomorrow I mean a couple days ago – the book A New Model: What Confidence, Beauty and Power Really Look Like by Ashley Graham goes on sale wherever books are sold and promises to be a collection of “insightful, provocative essays”.  The chances that I will purchase this book and read it are high.  It will likely not be the next book I read however I will gingerly toss it onto the stack and occasionally salivate like a rabid dog over the photos.  For years now I’ve had a highly inappropriate and dangerous obsession with Ashley Graham and it is certain this tome will only send me further down that rabbit hole.  I’m currently eking my way through The Virgin Suicides.  Sadly, I must confess I am barely lukewarm on that book but we’ll see how it turns out.  

The one big exception to my rule is Mike Patton’s 2010 album Mondo Cane.  This was recorded with an orchestra but it is not a giant steaming pile of crap like other rock albums recorded with orchestra.  Though to be fair, it is certainly not a straight rock album so maybe it’s not quite the exception I believe it to be.  Maybe it’s finally time to end it all.  Love the album though. 

The shininess of Ecuador.  Or should it be shimmering.  I don’t even know what I’m talking about anymore.  Few do.  How long have I been waiting?  Feels like centuries.  All four.  Four in one.  But so many others.  With tasers.  Laughing.  And then there was the Baby Puma.  But different this time.  Bedecked in iconography.  Not a flag, not quite.  But I looked up in the sky and saw so many stars and my response was immediate.  I cannot keep from sinning.  Denier and sweat.  My life comes down to only a couple things.  I have no few reasons left to live.  Those are a couple.  Wilt Stillman is quickly becoming one of my all-time favorites.  He is 3 for 3 right now.  3 PERFECT for 3 PERFECT.  It’s hard to choose a favorite from what I’ve seen.  Maybe the last days of disco.  Barcelona will be en route very soon.  

I love the Hellboy movies.  Did you know that?  How could you.  They are two great movies.  I was chagrinned to hear the recent announcement that there is a cinematic reboot in the works and director Guillermo Del Toro and star Ron Perlman will no longer be involved.  For decades I’d been hoping for a third and final film from that team but I suppose I will have to content myself with two perfect flicks.  I do think the reboot has potential to be quite good and gritty and with much more of an R-rated horror slant.  Neil Marshall is a good choice of director for this and the dude from Stranger Things has the head shape!  I will remain optimistic that we will get great Hellboy films!  Though I suspect that Guillermo and Ron will forever remain the Tim and Michael of this universe in my ugly and miserable heart of hearts.

  
I’ve got a wonderful life, two kids of my own!  

The most recent and last Wonder Woman trailer still got me excited and gave me the good feels despite its use of a typically horrible Imagine Dragons song!  

Me excited for new Shakira album.  El Dorado.  I like that title.  Actually, i fucking love that title!  Hopefully I fucking love the album.  Only time will tell.  

I am still a worthless individual.  

And just like that, there’s another new preview for the new Twin Peaks series.  Oh man I so fucking pumped and ready for this!  Lynch, my life for you!  

I have a nice steady stream of hip shit to keep me alive for the next few weeks: Alien Covenant next week followed Twin Peaks premiere that weekend followed by Shakira’s new album the following week and Wonder Woman the week after.  Then, once Twin Peaks has finished, will I at last do what is obviously the only right thing to do and throw myself into the river?