Woke up with that same
awful thing again. Rather suffocating
this time around. Listened to a bit of
Jane and then Joe and then back to the Machine.
I don’t even know what anything means.
Listened to Tyler the Creator yesterday, probably listen to more later
today. Just gotta make it through the
day. I think I can do that. I am so disgusting. I feel anxious and trapped inside
myself. I want to cut something
out. I was in the movie theatre
yesterday watching Soderbergh’s new movie Unsane. I thought it was a taught and great little
genre piece. It was during the rousing
last third when I realized it was very much a depiction of me on (not quite)
celluloid. I shrank back in my seat, terrified of the other two patrons in the
theatre as I fully realized what a repellant awful thing I am. I wish I could make everyone forget who I
was. If I could just start again. Oh well, I’m sure I’d find some new inventive
way to fuck things up. I need to brush
my teeth. Very little gives me as much
satisfaction in life. The plot points I’ve
heard so far regarding Wonder Woman 2 have been few and far between but they
leave me excited and intrigued. I need
to obtain Monaco and deconstruction.
Hook and Avery. In that long
interview he was wearing a Basquiat shirt.
I’m a huge Basquiat fan. I have a
coffee table book of his work that’s just lovely. I bought it in
Minneapolis. I like the movie quite a
bit too! It has a few of my favorite
people. Poor dunce. That’s me!
A small plot of land is so Walker-ish.
Or maybe Walker is so a small plot of landish. Whatever!
I love em both! I’m all about pine weasels and wine tasting
these days. Been re-watching all of peak
Peaks. How I love it. 3 (or is it 4) distinct movements. It’s opening
day today, is it not? Tis way way passed
time to leave so many childish and destructive things behind. I am guilty of everything. I am terrible. The destruction of our identities is a very
active pursuit.
I spent some of my
night watching Godard’s Hail Mary and – as is so common when I watch any Godard
work – not fully comprehending what was going on. Boy, I’m stupid. Calypso, the darkness within. Is the forbidden dance still la lambada? Suckas gotta know as Stevie Ray would say. Man I miss the WCW. Watched black panther the other day and
really enjoyed it. That relates to
something else as far numerology is concerned but only a classic grand guignol sense
(chortle).
So, I’m roughly 200
pages into it. And I don’t like series
or trilogies or quadrilogies or any of that carp but if the remaining 350 pages
of Red Sparrow maintain this level of quality I will seek out the second book
in the series. I will have little to no
choice. My hand will be forced.
Time and again I tell
myself I’ll stay clean tonight. Those words
always break and mend my heart.
I am toxic human
garbage though I sometimes long to be more.
Just gonna finish. Just keep
truckin’. That’s what you gotta do. Just keep truckin’. The mockish fellowship was scattered long ago
(nothing to do with magicians at the dawn though they are somewhere on my mind)
though sometimes he wonders where it all went. Thinking back is
depressing. Must look for the initial
sign of rejection, the thing which predated everything else. Watched Out of the Past last night. Great film.
Love noir. Chinatown earlier in
the week. Great film. Love noir.
Sometimes my peanut sized brain can’t understand certain things. Diana la Cazadora. Love her.
need to start reusing the old schematic again. Bright and sheer. New muse arising. This is dangerous. One in between but pretending like only two
there. not a good thing. Casual.
We were all horizontal in that moment.
Casual loveliness not yet seen. Terrible. Extra mouth coming out and will jab a hole
right into my egghead. Somehow it all
works. Stay at home. Electric blue. Don’t worry about the goals. Falling into a vat of toxic waste. I need to know how it will all turn out
before I venture forth. At least he isn’t
bothering anyone else anymore. So far so
good. Things are neatly falling under
control in a dry toast kind of way. All
across the country. I’m so old and used
up. Probably just need to listen to more
division. Atmosphere is so
beautiful. Everything. Hooky again.
Need to copy and replicate and sling the strap way down low. 25% and nothing to show. I’m a loser and failure. Saw a bukowski book the other day. Need to read em. And Yeats poems. I’ve ignored too many things for far too long
in my ignorance. Hate myself. Wish everyone would just leave me alone. Hate to talk to people and hate when people
talk to me. pantyhose have you.
That oral wallpaper is
coming back in style. Struggling now with
text like brick. Need to catch up with black lighting. Those text like walker’s
best but I could never approach. Hope that
book arrives soon. That Scary Monsters
vinyl is gorgeous. What an album. Beautiful and necessary music.
Probably put on highway again today. I am lost and deranged. Tilt is everything. Now sweaty summer approaches and I’ll put it
on every day and smoke imaginary cigarettes.
We’re awful. Awful. Maybe later I’ll sit on a flagpole. Just for laughs.
Pushing everyone away
is the wise thing. He explained her
lovely positive presence. Gratitude. Gracious loser in a bifurcated one-sided
beauty contest. Voice lovely. Ending things, punctuating the sentence with a
caress on the shoulder. This was
good. And appropriate. And then very soon it would be and will be
and was ironic. A thousand meaningless
moments repeating somewhere in the ether and remembered by no one. that is his existence. I’ll probably watch Hitchcock or Woo or
someone’s work today. But not before or
after I’ve had a good shave and a steaming oatmeal bath. With extra brown sugar and blueberries. The spice in my soap operatic triad of giddy
madness.
No comments:
Post a Comment