MY FAVORITE MOVIES OF 2019!

 

After months of teases and building anticipation here is my list of my favorite movies of 2019!  To be clear, I’m not saying these were the BEST movies of that great year!  They are merely MY PERSONAL FAVORITES.  I have shit taste and I’m a stupid person.  obviously I didn’t see everything that came out in 2019 but this is the list set in stone.  So even if I see 10 movies tomorrow that were released in 2019 and are all better than these 10 I would still not change this sacred list.  I started drinking around 10 am this morning, trying to quash this awful feeling.  It is the feeling of being a worthless person.  the alcohol doesn’t make me feel better necessarily but it numbs me and that’s good enough.  Sleeping also helps.  I love being asleep.  I’m probably going to make a big purchase soon.  Spending money makes me feel better in the short term. 

Before I start a few honorable mentions that remained just barely outside the top 10:  Serenity/the beach bum – I can’t separate these two flicks given their kinda similar setting and the lead actor (who’s gamely destroyed all the good will of the McConaissance but seemingly boldly as a choice!).  Serenity has one of the most audacious and ridiculous revelations and for that I give it made points!  And Beach Bum is just silly pretty crudola that I love and goes good with the other films of that director’s oeuvre.  Knives Out  - this is very entertaining and suspenseful and funny with some nice symbolism stuff.  Great time.  Also, i always try and single out my favorite show of the year and that was WATCHMEN which expanded bueatifully upon the mythology and created it’s own zany crazy intense beautiful thing. 

10. Hustlers – love the Goodfellas feel of it all!  And Lopez’s performance! And just all the life goodliness of it all!  It was just a great honest HEARTFELT film! 

9. The Forest of Love – Every Sion Sono movie is a like a large sandwich of crazy shit.  It always leaves me exhausted and in love with the artform of cinema and even more regretful that I’ve wasted my life and that I’m a worthless person . no one else is to blame, it’s my fault for being so useless this movie had Sono’s classic deranged characters and bizarre thick plot.  Love that monologue at the end.  What a damn movie!  

8.     Crawl – great lark.  And I love great lark.  And ends at just the right moment.  And has a dash of Pepper! And a cute dog! And a strong performance by the lead actress! Perfect lark!  I can put this on any time, even when I just want to die (which is almost always)! 

7.     John Wick Chapter 3: Parabellum– the John Wick series is the current gold standard for Stateside action flicks (along with the Mission Impossible movies).  They are symphonic spectacles that captivate me!  and the immersive mythology is icing on the cake.    

          6.     Joker – certainly the most controversial of the mainstream movies released last year! I remember going opening night and seeing police officers in all the nooks and crannies of the theatre. I’ve lost my ability to write.  Criticisms are apt: it is a shameless Scorcese rip off.  But it has a great and scary and tragic lead performance by Joaquin Phoenix and raises genuinely interesting questions about social services in the US and about our gleeful propensity to make “others” out of others.  I dunno.  I hate myself

5. Burning – haunting and beautiful . Can’t get it out of my head. 

 

4.     Dragged Across Concrete – new cop classic.  And I love cop stuff.  This one so gritty it makes me want to eat a sandwich or gouge my eyes out.  I celebrate this director’s entire filmography. Masterful filmmaking here.  It burns brighter than a            thousand evil mad sorcerers. Seriously, this is crime perfection with a great performance from Mel.  Great fucking writing and atmosphere and whatever.  This a perfect crime epic.  Please give me more movies like this!!  I really hate myself because I’m an ugly worthless failure.  Time to just call it a day?  

 

3.     The Lighthouse – this will be my midnight movie for years to come! Just a perfect slice of something!  Dark comedy or odd Bergmanesque quasi horror or something!  It’s dark and gorgeous and hilarious and stirring or whatever with two amazing actors and every scene is golden and it makes me squeal with girlish glee! 

2.     Dolor y Gloria – I adore Almodovar.  I can’t say if this is his best film because he has too many amazing films.  But this one deeply touched me.  It’s all about the glories and restorative properties of….    Banderas’s best performance?!  I’ll be watching this one until the end of time.  Beautiful movie.  Lovely.  Perfection. Restorative powers!  Oh I’m so grateful for this amazing movie!   

1.     The Irishman – This is a sumptuous film.  The type of movie that makes me want to postpone my suicide! It only could have come from Marty.  Effectively closing the book on the mafioso genre he helped usher in (that final shot could not be more perfect and haunting as a capper).  I’ve had this movie on in the background for the past 3 weeks while I’ve stewed in debilitating self loathing.  Oh God, I really hate myself but its only because I’m a worthless failure.  Usually I’m glad that I don’t own a firearm because I know I would decide to use it on myself one night and just check out for good.  But it’s for that same reason that I sometimes wish I had one.  The Irishman and the movie he made before this one (Silence) are the epic one-two-punch that perfectly closes out a towering and legendary career!  This is a rich flick.  Compelling! I get lost in it!  And all the leads do expert work!  The gang’s all back for one last hurrah! Going out in style.  Leaving it all on the table!  Pure cinema!  

there's my list! nothing's changed! i still suck! i'm still a loser.  ugly worthless individual.  my head always feels full of grey clouds.  it's worse in the morning i think . whatever, doesn't really matter i guess

 

another throwaway, still old and useless

 

so i have at last finished Tom King's run on Batman (granting that the Batman Catwoman miniseries just launched), culminating in #85, the conclusion of City of Bane.  And i can say now that it is a MIXED BAG! isn't that brilliant analysis.  i found much of it to be meandering.  There was a quite a bit of filler.  On the other hand it made me actually LOVE Thomas Wayne who was a character i had abosloutely no interest in after the AWFUL Flashpoint story from a few years and all that button and clock crapola that DC put out.  So yeah, I would really like to see that iteration of Thomas Wayne in a feature film sometime down the road!  i dunno, lots of literary allusions, lots of needless jumping around in the timeline (which looks to only continue in the Batman Catwoman series).  a gigantic amount of bat cat.  Some really pretty art.  I don't love this run at all (except for Thomas Wayne stuff), much of it was overplotted and the Knightmares stuff was bleh.  But i don't hate it either.  As someone who's never been much interested in the comics version of Catwoman this run didn't do much to change my mind (maybe the problem is with me then?!) but all the romance and wedding stuff wasn't bad either.  I didn't hate the run! it was just somewhere in the middle for me.  I'll probably forget most of it in not much time.  Looking forward to see what comes next.  I think maybe the utterly rancid Heroes in Crisis tainted my Tom King feelings a bit.  maybe i'll reread it some day.  also, i'm tired of writers having scenes where ALL rogues (aside from the main villain, ie Bane in several scenes) are either easily utilized or easily dispatched.  ENOUGH.  wait, i remember liking the war of jokes and riddles but now i can't remember much of it.  always nice to see poison ivy.  didn't like the booster stuff that much.  the wonder woman stuff was fine but that story had already been done years ago with Superman and Lois. i dunno, i feel like i'm being mean to Tom King.  GREAT RUN! The best of all time maybe! ugh, i didn't really like the freeze trial stuff either.  man, i guess i'm more not a fan of this run than a fan.  eh, all this decompression (Miller packed so much in 4 issues) and all this deconstruction (but not at Moore level! nowhere near!).  I liked the KGBeast stuff.  oh and the Alfred stuff was kinda cheap.  Gotham Girl is kinda cool (and i liked Finch's interpretation of her, not sure about the platinum kryptonite thing, i like someone like Morrison could have done something hip with that).  and I liked the beach stuff!  ugh, but all the slapping and moping. and the Alfred stuff!  and all the retroactive planning!  Damn, what a MIXED BAG!  

 

on a side note, i've always loved The Ventriloquist.  always happy to see him.  I need to pick up that Azzarello trade.  Azzarello's stuff always ages real well for me.  could that character work in a feature film?  I think so, but probably best as a side villain and not the main antagonist.  I’m going to use thrift to acquire the sequential iteration of steak being the most stressful meal to cook, you know?  I didn’t properly appreciate the first time around.  Mayhaps I’ll also use it in the service of precious metals.

 

I need to figure out what all this scratch and dent shit is all about.  Coffin has me.  Oh, and I just discovered, unrelated but maybe kind of related in a real roundabout way: she has her own channel.  Separate from the glam.  Dear God, let this not be another glorious delusion.  And already, in the deep black.  On another unrelated note but kinda related in a roundabout way all the holofoil chromium shiny shit really works for me.  Got a head full of bad wiring I guess.  Probably has to do with the formative years.  I’m all washed up.  Once I get my act together I will be ordering a box. Boxes are everything.  Gold emblazoned I think.  Foils again.  Foils and hosiery are everything to me.  And being electrocuted.  The hotel again last night as I drifted away.  Late at night I drift away.  Takes me back to some great wasted years where every night culminated in a loving imaginary language and even once when they were trying to take me away I was not scared ( I was drifting).  But yes at the hotel again, forever and a day.  So perfect, surrounded by the red, so empty.  How everything is empty.  Nothing everywhere.  I was at the hotel but not the motel.  The motel usually comes later (an old hell, nothing like it).  It’s all meaningless.  Maybe that’s why I squeal with glee when I hurl myself off the balcony (not quite a balcony, can’t think of the word, faceless commercial hub makes sense, everything nondescript, connection impossible).

Now I understand the meaning of scratch and dent.  Of course, I think as my head goes light, how utterly proper. 

And then with the window open and the thoughts of summer dress (never seen) my mind wandered back to the writings of O.  I can’t recall if the missing iteration ever turned.  But of course, who else would know but i?  new year, new life.  That was near the end, yes?  Not quite the end but very near.  Setup.  Classic beauty.  Madness.  Love white and black.  Magenta of course.  And then white and red once.  Perhaps teal as well.  Did these things really happen?  So lovely.  Thinking about magenta underneath, red underneath, black underneath.  So lovely.  Completely subsumed.  At mercy.  Under. Now the desperate retroactive search.  The names.  What were the names?!  The answers lie in the tortured and blissful memories.  Oh to lie in sweetest sin.  Oh to die in your arms.  I miss you dreadfully. 

 

throwaway, old and useless

 

perhaps against better judgment i am excited for the upcoming The Stand miniseries.  Or am i?  the more i learn the less i want to know.  i was a big fan of the book when i finally got around to reading it.  i found it to aggressively live up to the hype.  i am happy with the casting choices of Flagg and Mother Abigail.  if i were still into toys i'd check out the raw10 toys.  they have a boyish charm to them that would make me feel like a kid again.  coffin comics.  i've ordered several comics recently.  all this funding.  i approve of this new way of doing things.  collecting coffins and frogs and black magic.  i recently watched the director's cut of American Gangster.  i saw the theatrical cut in theatres very long ago, the day of release if i remember correctly!  i've been reading and loving an Elmore Leonard book these past few days.  i cried for several hours a couple nights ago.  i am still very much in Dern's corner. Now I’m reading and loving a big Clive Barker book.   the book i'm reading (was) has an orange cover with a dolphin on it.  i feel so empty all the time.  a new joker series?!  is there any character more overexposed in comics than the joker?!  i'm not excited.  but i dig the artist so i'll probably be a sucker and buy.  i'm also way behind on the batbooks so maybe i'll like punchline.  who the hells knows.  i don't know which author i love more between Elmore Leonard and Barry Gifford. Not sure why I feel the need to choose.  how dumb of me.   i am excited for the crime syndicate series that was announced though! im a big fan of the syndicate! superwoman!  yes.  embargo lifting.  i have some doubts.  but i am excited.  pink cover again on the way.  i like this trend with ridges.  superheroine cosplay has me.  my middle name is earl.  i read the gail ethan sensation thing and didn't like it very much and now i remember that i don't like the way gail writes diana.  never have.  never will!  and now i see that this new celluloid iteration will crib something from Ghost Whisperer year 4! the greatest of all years.  and now that the appraisals are trickling in my excitement levels are growing.  i ate garbage for lunch.  i need to be able to watch that cup.  it looks great.  and the sister of the small temptation, stunning.  and shani like i've never seen before.  submission at the end with the namesake (lady before) of the woman whose appraisals i was just discussing.  actually, half a namesake now that i think about it.  and the most violent.  28.  i missed 28 and that is the reality.  but in this day and age nothing is truly gone forever.  i'm going to go to a department store soon.  i'm going to buy a lot of captain america comic books soon.  glory as well.  and fighting american or whatever the hell.  or maybe not.  i don't know anymore.  odyssey too.  gotta catch up.  i do so love.  

 

a convincing jobber is so important.  such nobility in the jobber.  such satisfaction.  

i get the controversy but i am a liefeld fan.  looking for the cap lot first.  then i need to figure out all the image stuff.  the bibliography.  too much blood.  too much youth.  

 

its incredible to think that The Dark Knight Returns and Watchmen both hit in 1986.  Those two changed everything.  Revolutionary books.  need to watch the abel documentary thing.  and i need to renew my criterion subscription and watch the atom thing before i lose my chance.  New rose again.  I get it.  Always being called back.  In dirty pages and celluloid. 

 

The power of women in spandex.  Fabrics have me.  slime monsters.  i am deeply controlled.  mirage.  i don't know if that's the right word.  but now remaining trapped there with lasers firing off.  audio is the key.  invisible drones.  Electricity.  And always around face.  Too much succumbing as of late.  No purity left inside 

 

Eyecross. 

 

 

I do believe Coffin Comics is the best at this kickstarter indiegogo thing so far.  from what i've seen.  their products are fantastic with fucking BRILLIANT quality control.  and their youtube channel is great.  i've really dug what i've seen of allcapscomics so far as well.  and there's some other good ones too.  i'm too ignorant to recall.  

 

Too late now.  Woke up and realized and it’s all gone away.  On the verge of panic now.  Is there any time for a second act?  New ig.  Dig. Dug. 

 

now i have a smattering of scattered thoughts: it looks good.  The actor playing Harold is doing a great job.  in fact, so far i've no issues with any of the casting.  i'm wondering about the timeline jumping around structure they've employed.  i'm wondering if it might be too confusing for folks who are not familiar with the source text.  also, in this day and age, would it have been better - especially for this type of sprawling narrative - to have all episodes available at once?!  i don't like Billy Joel at all but i LOVE the use of the stranger as the theme for Flagg.  i was worried that James Marsden's dashing good looks would be a distraction and brush up harshly against the everyman stuff but no issues so far.  i like the elegantly photographed scene of two characters peaceably talking.  some scope was not well established enough in my opinion.  maybe future episodes could establish that bettter?  loved jk.  loved the yeats.  overall pleased.  the good and bad bookends were nice.  corn shit.  

my battery is sufficiently charged.  Grift! Then I realized the connection to a viola player (or something similar) who was being roped into some crass commercial music.  Cried when it was all over.  Still miss it.  One of the greats.  I’ve wasted it all. 

magicks piling up (in the wood pulp and then in the fortuitous meeting with The Little...at party with wicca foreign)

 

Thank goodness for the album with the pink cover.  I remember exactly where I bought it.  So many years ago, a special order.  The one without the metaphorical voice commented that it was a cute cover.  I view it as a trilogy with one before with a green cover and one after with a more natural finish.  All 3 are spectacular.    between sea and stars this morning.  Although now the word “this” does not totally apply.   i need to buy a box of Cap'n Crunch cereal asap.  Or do I? the more i learn the less i want to know! no, i definitely do.  Along with a big frosty carton of soy milk! cause cows are for calves!  i put on a Godzilla movie last night.  Shin.  i love Godzilla films.  I remember watching this one at the cinema years ago.  Got to remember the pits as i venture downtown today.  the pits that offer eternal life.  i'd forgotten about my love of Greg.  get down to the grit here.  Of course that leads to the question of love.   i was listening to an old Jennifer Lopez album the other day and it reminded me of something. in some ways it reminded me what a worthless person i've been for most of my life.  Auditing is a passion that many foster during their childhood. 

 

Yes, to die in her arms.  That kind of relates to something above.  My death trail leaving a question mark in the snow.  Die in her arms.  But not the successor.  No, someone else I previously just mentioned.  From a dream the other day.  Two dreams.  First one, so peaceful.  Waking up.  So lovely.  And I realized I’ve never truly felt happiness in waking life.  Such a sweet smile. You’re the only one I can ever believe who tells me not to cry.  Sounds so sweet.  Especially at the end, higher up. 

i feel so detached from everything.  there's a thick pane of glass and i can see what i'm supposed to be feeling at every given moment and i'm able to gamely replicate human emotion in most situations but so i often i simply feel nothing (save for self-loathing, richly deserved).  I’m a big Thalia fan but that may have been obvious from things I was saying earlier.  Sometimes it’s the only thing that makes me feel good. 

i just saw a photograph which revealed that soon a music video will premiere in which Shakira is wearing fishnet hosiery.  so for a brief time my life will have splendid meaning again.  i am such a colossal fuckup.  Also, I’m a complete failure. 

 

life is so sad.  i was listening to john william's score for the empire strikes back recently.  or was i? the more i learn the less i want to know.  no, i definitely was.  i noticed i really like yoda's theme.  i like the selection of paintings for offices.  my wrist hurts.  feel awfully depressed this morning.  life is so sad.  life is so sad.  i think i'm going to finish a book today.  i watched a shit film last night.  i see now the masks give the illusion of beauty.  already, my pea sized brain normalized something quite dire.  dire in the sense that it is another chapter in the interminable saga of failure that is me.  no, still looking for inspiration.  nothing quite right.  i see now.  it is good that intense things often come to an end very quickly.  stark control by the jackal who is not the jackal.  ah yes, that was the moniker.  and is it possible one is now superseding the other?  very much in the prime.  i feel so horrible, so incredibly depressed.  grey inside of me everywhere.  i wonder if anyone else can see it.  please, why do so many people have to talk to me?  damned.  at the top, watch your step.  it went too perfectly.  one of the greatest shapes he'd ever seen. and black like liquid.  this was true glory.  and later on the replacement.  and the rhapsody in blue.  yes, it is all coming back to him.  

 

The other day Adamari was wearing hosiery and it made everything right again.  Fire.  I couldn’t concentrate.  Couldn’t think about anything else.  Oh please please after a hard day of reporting on current world events and celebrity news please use my face as your personal footrest!  Please force that on me while laughing at me and berating me.  Smash my face with those glorious aromatic hosiery clad soles until I’m unable to breathe!  Perfume of the gods!  Make me bow down and worship.  Make me beg for forgiveness!  Demand kisses in supplication!

 

and then i realized how brilliant it is - the stylistic placement of the last 2 songs on that album, culminating in Rosalinda.  Because prior to this the entire disc was one glorious sugar rush; glorious slabs of Latin pop and then state of the art turn of the century Eurotrash!  It's fantastic and gregariously glossy stuff but it's all so overwhelming, by the time i'm at that one song based on another famous intercontinental thing i'm good and spent (though i adore that song) so the last couple are lovely gentle caresses.  

 

Also, I’m a big fan of the move Blackhat.  Love that film. 

I read Batman Catwoman #1 yesterday.  I read some other stuff too.  Fado before bed.  As one without a metaphorical voice once said it is like the melody is being provided by something other than….  Yes, I remember that statement.  Bookend of sorts.  I was in the backseat of a car while it rained outside and that felt just right. 

 

I’m such a sad man.  I mean in the sense that I’m a pathetic individual.  Fallen relatable.  People need to realize that because something is dark does not make it mature or intelligent.  Or do they?!  The more I learn the less I want to know. 

 

It was the dancing episode.  I remember it all clear.  Shiny.  Oh God, the denier.  Then she spoke to me.  I made her laugh. I hate myself so much but maybe in that second I did not hate myself as much. 

anytime a there's Glamissima video with Sara my day - no, my entire fucking life - for a moment, is actually worth a damn.  She's everything.  

 

missed the blue translucent marble (1166 no longer)

 Mind on fire.  That reminds me of the song house on fire by alice cooper.  I love that song.  Trash is an album.  I really like that one live version I found on youtube.  Ugh, I realize now how I’ve wasted everything.  I am a complete and utter failure.  Better to get out the most potent telling now before things have a chance to normalize.  Nightingale last night.  With whiskey.  I thankfully loved.  Reminded me of these same great folk alongside the paleontologist.  Maybe need to read a history book.  Probably not before windmills though.  Need to read big books.  I’ve blown it all.  Can’t relate to anyone.  Too much hate coursing through me.  Predominantly hate for myself of course.  For how I’ve fucked it all up.  Rubberband ball to the left of me.  Reminds me of a specific type of gal.  maybe that’s what I need right now.  I need to eat something.  Gate nine.  Need to bid on that first edition of Frankenstein.  I feel so horrible but it’s only because I’m such a damn loser, such a worthless failure.  I banged my head against the desk several times the other day and it made me feel dizzy.  Need to switch coffee brands. This one isn’t waking me up anymore.  I’m so sick of your shit.  Airport fantasies.  Listening to mark knopfler the other day.  Time to wipe the slate clean?  I wasted this life.  I fucked it all up.  No one’s fault but my own.  I am so unbelievably worthless.  Everything around me is so fucking ugly.  How do people accept this?  How do they just say, yep, this is enough, this is a resounding success?  It’s inconceivable.  Opened a new bottle last night, pretty good.  Going to have a busy day of sun but not a busy day of sat.  why don’t I just drink poison?  I can’t make the hardware purchase because I am too scared of temptation.  I hate myself so much.  I am my least favorite person.  Isn’t that funny?  Been really been digging the classic universal monster movies.  They are just so good.  The pure iconography.  All the star addled conversations as of late.  Just resent myself like crazy.  There is literally no part of myself that is good.  It is all shit.  I’m not very good at all.  Lovely thoughts but so untrue.  There is loveliness somewhere but it has absolutely nothing to do with me.  Found the Italian identity; so glorious, so wonderful.  I’ve been applying brisk refreshing aftershave liberally for much of my stupid life.  My face is so fucking ugly.  My body is also repulsive.  And the metaphorical inside, my hear and soul, are truly foul.  All in all I’m just a very repugnant human being.  Everything lacks meaning.  I love signs.  Was talking to a man of signs recently.  I’m committed to being in a pissy mood all day.  I have hunger.  I ate a lot of fruit yesterday.  His house was favorite from this years batch and I found it worked great on multiple levels.  More like this please.  Stack of books nearby.  Waiting on any movement from a little star.  Not difficult to see the patterns.  No one else to blame except myself for any pattern related subjugation.  Used to be the exception says an analyst.  Not sure where my judgment lies or where it should lie?  Nothing adds up anymore.  Too much of a disparity.  My mind can’t grasp or reconcile these contradictions.  Or can it?  The more I learn the less I want to know.  Wanna read about vampires soon (but not too soon).  Lost control the other day.  Inhaled laundry detergent.   I’m so stupid I’m so stupid I’m so stupid.  Love that book against nature.  The Portuguese actress from the feature film I watched last night was lovely.  My hometown is ice cream.  Have you forgotten about me?  It doesn’t make any sense.  None of it does.  I was sent a blue photograph the other day that made my heart skip a beat.  Or was i?  the more I learn the less I want to know.  No, I definitely was.  Breathless.  Braille.  That’s what the blue resulted in the other night.  Braille all over again that was first brought about by mermaids.  Need more books on goddesses.  Need to reread final crisis cause I didn’t understand a motherfucking MOTHERFUCKING thing.  See how minimal the words are once federal reserve notes have fulfilled their destiny?  Way too obvious.  I’ve lost all ability to obfuscate and that was perhaps the most precious ability of them all.  Also, I really hate myself.  My time is certainly not valuable and that is proven every day in an abundance of different ways.  I’D LIKE TO TOUCH YOU, BABY!  Quick, where are my red vinyl pants?!  loving a little life so far.  i ate half a sandwich for lunch the other day.  

I feel so awful.  I’m such an awful person.  Why do you hate me so much?!  Why do you hate me so much?!  Oh, wait, I know why, it’s because I’m an awful piece of shit; a real waste of life.  Hahaha, I love the ignorance around me.  But I’m also incredibly ignorant too hahaha.  Need to watch a martial arts movie soon.  Need to read about lucia soon.  Good thing I never procured the hardware or I might be ending myself.  Melodies no longer have me.  Nothing words anymore.  Just want to be asleep.  Odd, I feel awful all over.  Oh well, no big loss.  THE REVELATION.  I’m saying that in a real scratchy voice.  Octopus.  I know which connection I should cut.  It’s all my fault.  Turquoise falling down on my lovely vehicle though a reflection of myself on the window would be awful because I am incredibly ugly.  Where’s my tambourine?  Around the world….   Nothing works anymore.  Thank you for being so nice.  Sorry that you were tainted by my existence.   I need to move.  There’s too many goddamn big monsters.  Kaijus are the only thing that make me feel good anymore.  And being asleep.  When I’m asleep it’s almost like I’m not me and I love that feeling.  My great mistake is existing.  Wow, I am such a worthless fucking individual.  It legitimately hurts how much I hate myself.  I can actually taste it.  I can taste my own self hatred.  And I can feel it too, it makes my fat ugly head hurt.  I hate myself so much because I’m a fucking ugly worthless individual.  It’s richly deserved.  I’ve never done a single worthwhile thing.  All my fault of course. 

In a sense I was wearing a corduroy jacket this morning.  Or was I? the more I learn the less I want to know.

In that exact moment as I was preparing a tall glass of rich chocolate Ovaltine I realized I’d idiotically neglected to preorder Kylie Minogue’s new album and for that reason my copy will arrive a few days later than it otherwise would have.  My stomach has been hurting for days.  I really fucking hate myself.  I miss you dreadfully

t

 

Not sure where to begin.  Could be with Cleopatra’s Needle or dancing on the blood-dimmed tide.  I always shed a little tear at strip clubs.  Or it could be of one wishing to sit before the beast at the very end of things or maybe just that one is heading in that direction.  Yes, felt shaky yesterday morning and this morning; evil surging through my veins.  I don’t understand desire anymore.  Or happiness.  Ah, the little star.  Sweetest sin.  Little star…the most…but also the most….   It all happened so fast (doesn’t it always go that way?).  Pretenses dropped and numbers thrown out – numbers and symbols have power you see – and then it all seemed lost.  And how is it possible…after so many moments how is it possible that it was really so easy?  Across so many miles and years and so much sinning.  Everything is illusory.  I need those illusions.  I desperately cling to them.  This is the first death.  At a loss over the past couple days.  The Frenchman is indicating exactly where I’ll go of course. 

There is no true connection anymore.  I realize I no longer relate to anyone.  I felt a few moments of happiness earlier but I have no idea if it was genuine or not.  How to tell?  But like a drug it’s calling me back.  Everything digital.  And of course how much is going to be stored up in preparation.  I am a deeply selfish person, an awful person.  I’m lost and just wandering through this strange city and trying desperately and failing completely to work out my kinks.  I am so utterly fascinated by self destruction.  Avarice.  Hanging.  The recognition was lovely.  And then a quick flash of ridiculous jealousy.  I mean absolutely nothing. A worthless individual. 

It was so recent when I realized the great and grave importance of maintaining the façade.  Identities are not only malleable, the concept of the “true” identity is increasingly irrelevant.  And yet here I find…something so genuinely sweet, lovely.  How did this happen?  My vision starts to blur and I realize nothing makes much sense anymore.  I’ve been away from the party for too long.  Feeling utterly awful and lost is the only thing that makes sense to me time and again. I can’t get anything done with….

So then dizzying lust mixed with…I don’t know, was it real happiness, maybe, and then a shocking connection, how could this be real but there had to be some genuine feeling there somewhere, what does any of this even mean and then it was all drowned by cheap whiskey.  Amazing the control that fabrics have over me.  genuine nervousness.  How could he be talking to….  Again, the power and importance of symbols.  What does she actually mean?  Lust and destruction and a healer.  Desire.  How are these combined histories melding.  And boy, do I suddenly have money to burn.  Ah, and then being granted so many options.  I am so painfully obvious, eh.  A clear mark.  A willing mark.  What does it matter?  And of course…how is any of this possible?  My life doesn’t actually seem real at this point.  There’s too much…I don’t know the word.  I need someone to put it all into perspective.  Pink and black.  The pink one and the black one…or only the black.  All together it’s fine.  Easy mark.  But so sweet.  The eyes have it.  I am no longer able to bond with anyone.  At least I have my drink.  Barely held together by my pills and my drink. 

Not a bother, the opposite, helps a lot.  Is that so wrong.  Can’t we just put the cards on the table (need to play baccarat more).  Can it be so wrong to be blatantly honest like this.  How could I be mingling with this iconography.  There it is; the symbols, iconography, representations.  Much more important than anything “genuine”.  Nothing genuine exists.  Surely it’s some type of absinthe infused dream that I’m having.  Commiserating with this beautiful, this lovely iconography.  It’s not a bother.  Hearing his name…said so properly, that little exquisite bit of effort.  At that moment…a dragon on his knees on the phone…familiar to me and it was me.  I don’t deserve the sweetness.  A little kiss.  A full blissful minute devoted to….

Incredible, sweet and kind and lovely.  But I feel so empty now.  Control over me.  offered various….  I am so empty and full of ugly sin.  Am I able to write at all?  Wearing the patterns today (no, that was yesterday).  I am so empty.  Mother, forgive me. 

I am an old failure.  Suicide is an act of murdering someone you hate.   I drank too much coffee today.  Wearing the patterns without…?  Denier has control over me. 

Now I just need to save it all up for the grand arrival.  Need to browse and use digital innovation for fast delivery.  Returning back to the golden days.  Still have it.  Domino of course.  Never used spirit gum.  Thank you for the support.  Identities are such slippery things.  voyeuristic tendencies.  Called him up and said I have to do this because I am him and then I realized that I am him who said I am him. 

The little star in the morning again.  With me now always.  Full control.  Utter dominance.  You’re beautiful.  Yellow diamond high.  be so careful please.  How very affordable though.  We are merging with technology.  I love my descending. 

I loved the movie Thunderball.  I recently ordered the soundtrack. I also really love Jack Nicholson’s Joker.  And the song Wednesday Like a River.  I listen to it every Wednesday and for the duration of that song I don’t want to kill myself.  And Martika’s Kitchen.  Man, that Martika album.  I also love the movie Cosmopolis.  Need to reread the book.  or do I?  the more I learn the less I want to know.  Love the Stooges album Fun House.  Great summer album.  Woke up with torturous thoughts.  Somewhat blissful.  Went to the grocery store.  Bought some things.  red faced. 

1,017

Where is my soft machine, I screamed out from my position of ultimate non power!  And now there is a truck pulling up.  There were frightening noises coming from beneath the floor last night.  I downed another shot or two of whiskey and/or vodka in order to calm my jangled.  I watched 3 James Bond movies over the weekend.  The one I liked the most was Octopussy and I reckon that is a great and zany adventure film.  It really worked for me!  It really fired on all cylinders!  I was drinking a jar of pasta sauce last night. 

On the verge of tears for most of the morning and something like a tension headache keeps building.  I have failed.  At what, he asks.  I have failed at everything.  I have failed at life.  I’m a loser, an utter failure.  No one else to blame but myself and there is some odd comfort in that.  I began writing a letter to someone I never see anymore and will likely never see again.  Touch of therapy, eh. 

So much banality.  I’m tempted to throw up in my hands and then drink it.  All my fault.  All this banality comes from me.  Forced to talk to people again.  Just listen to these instructions, all so fucking meaningless.  Oh how we desperately to the little pieces of nothing we carve out. 

You are going to be so sorry one day for the way you treated us.  You don’t got nothing to say that I wanna hear.  Just shut up!  I hope your fucking happy for this fucking mood you put me in.  why are you so stupid?  Goddamnit!  I can talk to you however the hell I want.  Sit down and take it.  You wouldn’t have made it.  Sneeze.  Don’t be rude!  You will be out of my life forever.  All he wants is someone to cook and clean up after him.  All you want is someone to take you places and buy you things.  With that attitude.  You can all just go to hell.  GODDAMNIT!!!  I will blame you for the rest of your life.  14! 14! Grow up, they’re not your family.  (wanted to show him the diary pages).  You can go live with her whenever you want. Slap.  Slap.  Slap.  Rude.  Inconsiderate.  Ungrateful.  “I’m sorry.”  Lately you’ve bene saying a lot of things you should be sorry for.  You will be out of my life forever.  Silence now, silence, silence, silence (though happiness around others).  Other kids would die to have this.  You don’t got nothing to say that I want to hear.  Silence for many days.  GODDAMNIT!!!  Don’t be surprised if one of these days I just leave.  Go tell him what happened with the phone conversation. Are you going to deny God? 

It occurred to me then that I need to invest in my own Word Hoard.  This is the key to everything.  I keep a copy of The Soft Machine with me wherever I go.  Back in my high school I used to throw pants-shitting parties!  They were all the rage.  We’d all gather around, swap stories and just literally shit our pants.  I need to bring these parties back, reunite the old gang.  My copy of the soft machine has a pink cover.  I would love to spend hundreds of dollars and obtain a first edition copy. Then one day when I turn into a vampire I’ll find a pretty freshly turned vampire and offer to lend her my copy.  My favorite pens are the Pilot Precise V7 RT.  I order them by the baker’s dozen, always in rich blue.  Speaking of blue, I need to buy a copy of Perfect Blue.  I’ve been watching Ju-On Origins on Netflix recently.  That is, when I’m not crying, bitching, pissing and moaning about how worthless I am (but there’s an extra layer of comedy there because I really am all those things).  

I’m excited that Kylie Minogue is set to release a new DISCO themed album in November and look forward to hearing the new single this coming Friday! 

The greatest thing, the ultimate goal, would be able to write something as pure as Detonate by Charli XCX and/or as lovely as Ce N’est Pas Un Reve by Francoise Hardy.  I can live inside those songs and temporarily not want to die.  Something like Bowie’s Outside album.  Pieces of my worthless soul and disgusting heart hide in there and for blissful moments receive solace. 

I’ve begun writing letters to someone with whom I’ll likely never speak with again.  It’s comforting in the short term.  “I love working with you.”  Are there any dreams left?  Words are leaving me behind in this worthless place I have created.  Fear I may have no more viable constructs left.  

Something I’ve mentioned in all of this crap reminds me of the lovely Scott 3.  Of this, I need more of.  It was the 19^th anniversary of JP3 the other day.  I remember the first time I ever saw it. Kinda harkens back to something written earlier.  And the first few Amaral records.  I’m reminded of those by Francoise.  As I approach this loveliness, I feel ever more terrible.  I realize that booze helps stave off these terrible feelings.  I continue to take some measure of comfort in that I only have myself to blame. Sion Sono is also inspiring.  Ugly things feel very true.  I miss you.  I realize now the hypocrisy present in those blocks of time. Yet so much comes down to money.  I miss talking.  But there was so much that was illusory, correct?  I imagined most of it.  And it still came true anyway, haha.  Maybe this agent can help me for awhile in those blissful moments when I am about to fall asleep and in those caustic, awful moments when I first wake up and realize I am still me. 

She was singing to me in my dreams the other night. 

I need to read the book Rebecca.  I am woefully not well read. 

The Spy Who Loved Me is such a lovely film. 

incomplete dull crap

Another merry day of failure is before me.  I love the bass line to atmosphere.  My construct is utterly failing me.  Hot tears in my eyes.  I don’t even know what my construct is anymore.  Italy has abandoned me.  Everywhere has.  Maybe I can find some comfort in the dulcet tones of the French language.  I should have had a second cup of coffee.  Quick, someone get me a bottle of sleeping pills that I may down them all.  I think I’m going to order a tom Clancy book on ebay and an Elizabeth hand book.  Strange how the moon keeps beckoning to me.  I wonder if that is the reason for my lack of sleep lately.  Or it could just be the weight of my innumerable personal failures causing unrest.  Hard to talk to anyone.  Hard to look at them.  So much grotesquery around me.  And me the foul rotting center of it all.  Last night bad.  No interest.  No active engagement.  Oh God, someone get me a bottle of something.  Man, I love jack kirby’s artwork.  The pages can barely contain the energy in his lines!  I’ve been reading Galilee by Clive Barker lately.  I find it to be increasingly engrossing with many quite lovely and inspirational passages.  It’s been one of my only legitimate escapes these days.  Thanks Clive.  Because all muses have left me.  I have no solace anymore.  Too many drones.  Lets all be happy about devoting our lives to things that don’t matter!  Brilliant! As long as we’re fucking though.  Pleasures of the flesh make up for everything.  I treasure rationalizations.  Tears now.  Tears again. Cradle him in your arms.  Cradle him in your arms.  There is no one to do that anymore.  I just noticed I’m wearing a blue shirt today. My head hurts over how empty everything is and over how useless I am.  I was talking to people recently and it felt awful.  I hate talking to people.  Wish everyone would just leave me the fuck alone.  I sometimes think it would be quite comforting to wear a mask all the time.  I put on a big smile though.  My voice sounds funny.  My smile feels weird today like my mouth keeps shaking.  I love the smell of fresh paint.  I love the idea of mudding walls before painting them.  I love the word mud.  I loved the hbo Watchmen show.  Great stuff.  And Trent Reznor & Atticus Ross’s score was superb.  I purchased all 3 albums.  I feel like I’m swirling black hole of negative energy.  I know that doesn’t make sense but its how I feel.  I need a Xanax.  Anyone have any pills I can pop?!  Blame it on the rain.  I’ve been watching the Picard series too, I have one episode left.  Has something gone chemically wrong with my insides?  Is that why I feel so bad?  I can’t see very well right now.  I think I’m going to eat a granola bar soon. 

I think what follows is a collection of random thoughts and/or memories:

I remember encountering a love woman last week.  Tattooed, bejeweled, black hair, colorful shirt, jeans.  Caring for the sheep.  She was devastatingly beautiful.  The encounter made me so happy but I can’t feel any of that happiness right now.  I remember every detail but it doesn’t make feel anything except bad.  There is a foul taste in my mouth too.  My face wants to constrict.  Why can’t I glean any happiness from this pleasant encounter?  I don’t even feel desire.  All good things have left me. 

I don’t like absolute editions because they are too unwieldy and uncomfortable to read but for an instant I was sorely tempted by the absolute fourth world volume 1. 

A guillotine kind of looks like an hourglass. 

I need to buy some Miracleman comic books.  I’m starting a Clive Barker book today but I actually already have (see up top). 

Ah, the eschaton.  I need to learn more, make predictions.  The super Sargasso sea.  We’re all damned.  I need to buy three old books and find that hidden knowledge.  Old books have so much hidden and valuable knowledge. 

I love the Miami Vice movie.  I’m watching part of it right now.  I think I was happy in that moment.

And for a brief span of time Coralie made me happy.  I was reminded of running to expel the sense of giddy temptation.  There was true loveliness…when?  2 years ago I think.  Cream and cranberry.  Too afraid to go down the stairs.  Ice cream and coffee.  There was meaning amidst all the banality.  Swimming at night, safety and comfort in the center of a storm. 

Thinking of this…calm comes over me for a few seconds but quickly disappears.  everything good has left me.  I went to be unusually early last night because it just doesn’t pay to be awake sometimes.  doesn’t put bread on the table. 

I ate a turkey and swiss on wheat bread sandwich yesterday.  It satisfied my hunger.  I drank water with this sandwich. 

Breaking my own rules here cause I don’t have much else to say. It’d all be repetition.  just can't write anymore, all meaningless shit anyway. Oh, the photo of Chiquibaby on Instagram this morning was cute.