play!

Hans Zimmer’s score for Tony Scott’s 1996 film Crimson Tide is en route to my humble and unhappy home.  I watched Tale of Tales last night, more on that later.  I am as excited as a school girl that our cinemas are getting (great word) Beatriz at Dinner this Friday.  I’ll be there that very day and for roughly 90 minutes I won’t be thinking of suicide.  But where is The Beguiled?!  When does that expand?!  I am perennially behind the curve; such is the nature of wisdom.  I really like Kanye West’s 2013 album Yeezus.  That’s a great thick industrial hip hop thing.  Still on that Ice-T kick too.  Original gangster.  Syndicate!  I awoke to find the Kookaburra laughing at me. Understandably so. 

Words spill from her mouth like red hot diarrhea during the lavish dinner date.  Afterward they make meat pies together and then look up at the sky, mouths agape in the hopes that thick errant bird shit may go splat inside.  Later on they will discuss politics while eating soup with antique silver forks before capping off the night by driving backhoes through the mud and applying several layers of gauze and lubrication jelly to all broken street signs within a 47 mile radius.  As the sun comes up they’ll piss in the alleyway and flap imaginary wings while wondering why the color blue never said hello to the concept of gravity.  Then they’ll promptly take naps and dream about banana cream pies while their housemaids fashion new blankets made out of the blondest hair of dozens of blind babies.  Then I’ll drop by to borrow a pound of butter a bucket of silt.  

 He seems to sway back and forth to a rhythm only he can hear.  Truly, I awoke only in desperate search of Adamari’s luscious legs but this cute birdie was a pleasant surprise.  Green dress.  I love animals.  Animals should not try to act like people.  Heavens no!  People are awful.  Man, I am ugly.  I mean really physically unattractive with a fat grotesque face.  It’s fucking hard to look at me.  But I’m also ugly on the inside.  Is that more or less crucial?  I love that song Breathless by The Corrs.  Real feel-good splashy sunny pop.  I go pazzo for that kind of feel-good pop perfection.  It makes me momentarily forget what a worthless loser fuckup I am.  It’s a fun song to play on the bass too if that’s your thing.  I drank a double whiskey (on the rocks) last night while reading Naked Lunch.  Then I drank 2 (or possibly 3) glasses of cheap white wine and a double vodka (on the rocks).  I’m a big rocks drinker.  Burroughs is quite an inspirational figure.  

Oh I desperately wish she would berate me, remove her boots after a good match and then use my face for her footrest.  

I think I woke up with something sweet and the concept of forgiveness ringing in my ears.  As I seemingly look for structure he wonders if he is simply deluding himself.  Or is he instead simply diluting himself?  Or is it somehow radically both?  What are you really looking for?  Everything important is emblazoned on a piece of wood.  I guess Year Zero is comparable to Pretty Hate Machine.  I love both albums.  Sinning is my desire.  I meant to write that desire is my sin but it forced itself to come out a different way and forced me to confront the reality of the situation.  Know your mother.  It was a press conference of all things.  The walk in was not graceful but it was perfect.  Secrets in lace of course taught me early on the key identifier and what I would not give to put it to the test during that press conference.  Heathen was something of a predictor.  Bilocation is a skill I’d be keen to learn.  

I would like to buy tickets for Shakira and for Haim.  They both go on sale the same day.  Isn’t that always the way?!

Interaction becoming less and less.  I am a bit frightened by all these zombies.  But the grey-shirts were in full force and I was bad once again.  I think someone was whispering in my ear the other night.  in the midst of it all evil was reborn.  There are bugs inside of me.  Time is passing by and being filled with so much utter meaninglessness.  What is the place?  I would not have walked out if I saw a female pastor, ever.  I consumed some very spicy meat for lunch.  I know in my heart of hearts I will consume a similarly prepared plate of meat again at some point.  

I feel like crying right now over what a failure I am.  I think that first drink of the day is going to have to start before noon from now.  People and their worthless lives.  I suppose we all look for escapes from the pointless misery that is our existence.  Then there was blinding rage.  I am surrounded by fakes.  Am I the fakest of all?  Lucha Underground is on in the background.  Is Lucha the only thing which makes sense anymore?  There is oil running down my back.  I don’t know much about anything, that’s for damn sure.  Pynchon is somewhere next on the list.  I think I’ll watch Creepshow later on.  Tale of Tales reminded me of the power of a good anthology.  Now I want a good creepy pulpy anthology.  I think Creepshow will satisfy that desire.  

Probably Lodger now, a continual source of inspiration.  Walker too.  What have I done?  Is love lost?  Need to figure out the best way to tighten the snare on things.  I need it to be really dry.  Just about to snap!  Wrath of Khan really is one of the best submarine movies ever and I was just too much of a cranberry-loving moron to realize that earlier on.  What a classic!  

Vueltita vueltita vueltita vueltita vueltita!  Who was saying that?  I know and yet i don’t know.  Everything is through the glass.  Babyface.  Not the singer.  But in a completely different sense, yes, the singer.  Love the way it sounds. And looks so happy!  

Oh Marcela.  That little black dress, black heels and – perhaps most crucially – the hosiery and you stole my heart once again.  I willingly submit!  Oh God!  Oh yes!  I melt….  You own me!