In your most private moments I want you to remember...

Having recently been diagnosed with a rather nasty airborne pathogen I was unable to attend Comic-Con back in July where it was held in beautiful sunny San Diego.  I will no doubt regret this for the rest of my miserable and diseased life.  The new Mad Max movie looks surprisingly good and I would have savagely murdered anyone – even my closest friends and family members – to be at the Hannibal panel.  Undoubtedly, the biggest news was all related to that mouthful of a movie Batman v. Superman: Dawn of Justice which included 2 new pictures of Batman, the first actual footage ever screened for the flick which showed a high tech suited up Dark Knight about to throw down with an angry red eyed Man of Steel, and of course the unveiling via photo of Gal Gadot as Wonder Woman.  I’ve always had a great love of discussing things well after the buzz and hype has passed and everything has been said as it makes my contributions completely irrelevant.  I’m not sure why but I take a kind of giddy excitement in knowing how irrelevant I am. 

I’ve spent the better ¾ of the last 5 weeks examining this photograph and trying my damndest to formulate my opinion that I may promptly put fingers to stained keyboard and articulate exactly what my dark heart is feeling.  Followers of The Cream have been privy to my vocal skepticism of Gadot being cast as the Amazonian princess and all my fans have been dying on the inside to know my thoughts on this unveiling and if they have taken a dramatic reversal or have simply been solidified harder than the glue that dries and hardens on the orange caps of Elmer’s brand glue. 

All right, I’ll stop mincing words and spell it out real simple like: I love what I am seeing in this photograph.  Let me repeat that now with a playful use of capital letters and exclamation marks for dramatic emphasis: I LOVE what I am seeing in this photograph!!!  I hate myself so much but that made me feel a little better.  Her costume is absolutely identifiable as Wonder Woman while still modernized – though not in a negative trendy way – and fitting in perfectly with the world Man of Steel established.  I am not a massive fan of the muted colors but if that is the biggest gripe I can find then I will be able to sleep at night without issue.  Also, Superman’s costume color scheme appeared similarly muted in publicity photos for Man of Steel and it was a complete non-issue in the actual movie so I have faith something similar will happen here.  All the classic elements of her costume are present: the starred tiara, the eagle emblazoned bustier, the bracelets, the lasso!  All are present and accounted for and they look bloodie spectacular!  I have made the decision to respectfully refrain from further commenting on Ms. Gadot’s acting or physicality until I see the movie (or at least a trailer) as she deserves a chance to show what she can bring to this role.  How generous I am since my opinion will likely determine the success or failure of this film!  At this point I am simply choosing to be exceedingly excited at seeing a big screen Wonder Woman and this photo indicates many good things to come. 

It’s no secret that I discovered the classic Wonder Woman television program starring Lynda Carter at a very pivotal time in my life and the rich combination of stunning beauty, Amazonian strength and intelligence, a lasso and of course hosiery stirred something incredible inside my mind and body.  I do not think it is any exaggeration at all to say that this show and Ms. Carter’s portrayal is easily the biggest thing – and the most often associated with the character – in the eyes of the general public.  Other things such the story arcs in her own comic book(s), the costume changes in the 70’s and 90’s, her appearances in animated movies and video games seem to be of interest only to the already initiated, the folks who would normally buy that stuff anyway.  To put another way: her co-leads Superman and Batman are known to the general public for many things beyond who has played them in the movies whereas almost everything those same people know about Wonder Woman is from the TV show.  That is no slam against the show for it was and is spectacular entertainment and a beautiful adaptation.  It is very easy to fall in love with that iteration of the character – as I did – and to develop a highly inappropriate attachment because Ms. Carter was so impossibly perfect in the role.  However my hope is that this upcoming flick and its spin-offs and sequels will further increase the popularity and awareness and enrich the legacy of a truly excellent character.  Some of my favorite arcs in all of comic books are in her series and I would love for more attention and respect to be granted in this area. 

In other related news the Brothers Warner wisely moved the release date of Batman v. Superman: Dawn of Justice to the end of March 2016 rather than opening it the same day as Captain America 3 in that year’s first week of May.  This makes gaggles of sense as Marvel’s track record has been incredible as of late and I do believe Cap 3 could easily overtake DC’s gamble.  Despite my love for the characters I have almost no faith whatsoever in Warner Bros slash DC’s ability to successfully launch and maintain a cohesive and quality comic on film universe but I am eager to see the results.  

Though I am definitely excited to move past Nolan’s “realistic” (dull would probably be a better adjective) bat-world and see a more physically capable and intelligent dark knight on screen.  At the same time I can see director Zack Snyder and star Ben Affleck going too far in the opposite direction and creating some horrific hybrid of the worst sensibilities of Snyder and comic writer Frank Miller, whose work in part serves as the basis for Batman’s characterization, in the film.  Snyder already successfully adapted Miller’s work in 300 though that success is all relative as I have great disdain for that movie and Miller’s grumpy “Dirty Harry” version of Batman has never much appealed to me.  With that aforementioned footage though (which kicked all kinds of loose booty) and the photographs it is honestly getting harder and harder to let Affleck’s presence bring down my excitement for this feature film.  Harder but definitely not impossible and I still wake up drenched in sweat, heart pounding and certain this casting can’t be real.  But know this, dear readers: if Affleck knocks it out of the park I will be the first to sing his praises and pretend that I supported and defended him all along! 

One good thing I can say Warners slash DC is slash are doing is their courting of one Dwayne “The Rock” Johnson (or Dwayne “El Piedra” Johnson for all my Spanish speaking fans) to play Shazam and/or his nemesis Teth Adam in one of their upcoming slated films.  I say “Shazam” because that is the magic word that mild mannered Billy Batson says in order to be transformed into the muscular, dashing and heroic Captain Marvel who has the power of 6 different mythological figures.  That is correct, there is a DC superhero named Captain Marvel.  This character’s history goes all the way back to 1939 where he was first published under Fawcett Comics and became one of the most popular characters around.  The company eventually expanded his line to include other members of this superhero family such as Mary Marvel and Captain Marvel Jr.  These are all great classic comics that have remained favorites of fans and creators alike.  The character eventually languished in part due to a lawsuit by DC alleging that he was too similar to Superman and the company would eventually acquire the rights to the character though his comics were thereafter typically titled Shazam or The Power of Shazam to avoid any infringement or confusion with the company Marvel Comics (which incidentally also has a character named Captain Marvel, what a fucked up world we live in).  Fun fact: The King himself Elvis Pressley was a massive fan of Captain Marvel Jr. – the youngest and perhaps pluckiest member of the Marvel family – and took inspiration from the young hero’s costume and hair for his own stage outfits and style.  Man I love knowing stuff like that!  Point being it is a great character who could easily be the subject of a successful and fantastic franchise if done right and I do believe this new universe needs a popular face and name to give people some faith in its content and The Rock can definitely provide that jolt.  We shall see.

I’m off to eat a blood Popsicle now.    

A hug before you go Part 2

How dejected I feel in this moment.  How could there not be the one?  I see so many and they are all dressed so nicely but my interest in each fades within seconds.  The place is sufficiently not upscale enough that there are representations of many shapes and ethnicities.  And yet…I still do not see her.  My stomach begins to twist and turn into knots.  I have already gone to the ATM machine and my wallet is full of money that I am more than happy to throw away.  How can there not be – ah, there she is.  I was starting to worry so much.  She is radiant and I am so thankful I can watch her and stare without hesitation and turn my head when she walks bye.  I wait patiently for her name to be called. 

I go in for a closer look and sit right next to the stage.  I am careful to make protracted eye contact.  She looks right at me and smiles.  I look better than most of the others sitting around the stage.  I pull out a stack of ones to let her know how serious I am.  Hopefully she will remember and then when she is off the stage she will come to me for a private dance.  I place some ones on the edge of the stage, folding them and she does tricks with some.  She rubs them on her pussy and it is gross but wonderful.  I want to spend the rest of the night with you.  You are different.  What a beautiful place this is.  She takes off everything for me and I can see her massive areolas and that her ass isn’t really 100% perfect but it will still do.  There is something about her, maybe a quirk or a naturalness that the others don’t have. 

She is sitting on my lap and the simple fact that her body is on top of mine is immeasurably pleasing.  I kiss her back and let the tip of my tongue run a few inches up its center.  There is a brief moment where I wonder how many others have done the same thing tonight.  I smell her hair and it is shampoo and staying products.  My left hand runs down her side and onto her thigh.  My right goes down her arm and eventually reaches her hand and we interlock fingers.  This must be something unique.  We are holding hands; there is a genuine intimacy here.  I cup her breast then move toward her ass but we remain holding hands.  God shut the fuck up already; I don’t care if you have a friend that lives where I’m from and what a crock of bullshit that is anyway.  Stop pretending I’m witty or that you give a shit.  No, she is truly interested, she’s opening up.  She is trying to save to go back to college.  That’s beautiful. 

We kiss.  This is not something that all of them do.  It is tender and lasts for a few blissful seconds.  She did not have to do that.  But she wanted to; in the moment she wanted to kiss me.  You’re an ugly piece of shit.  She kissed you because she sensed your desperation.  You’re going to stay for another dance, probably a few more and she’s going to pay all her house dues and start having a very profitable night.  And so what if that’s true?  I am her client and I am paying her to have a good time.  If I have a good time does it matter what her motivations are?  But I do believe she really wanted to do that.  Are you sure you couldn’t taste anyone else on her lips?  I wonder if there is any disease.  I laugh to myself and think of course there must be or there will be at some point.  How could I even begin to trust someone like this?  Why am I not responding?  I should be on the verge of something great right now but I don’t feel anything.  God this music is awful.   What does she think of me?  She’s made no real indication.  Am I big enough?  How many different sizes does she feel every single day?  What would excite her?  God, thinking about sex is such a disgusting and pathetic thing but that’s what I want.  I want to fuck her.  No, I want to make love to her, Jesus who actually says or thinks that.  But I would be able to make her happy.  She’d feel something different with me.  She is so beautiful.  Why does she work here?  I’m glad she does.   

How does she know exactly what to do?  She knows exactly what I want to touch, what I want to feel.  Fuck, this is all so fucking stupid and worthless.  What a fucking waste of money and time.  I’m throwing away my night on this.  I am a sad pathetic individual to need something like this.  No, look at that group.  They’re having a great time throwing money around.  And this guy next to me is so into things.  You know, for a couple hundred we can go to one of the really private rooms.  We’d have a lot more time.  Two hundred better buy me more than a dance.  I don’t say this though, I just ask for the particulars and she skates around things.  When the dance is over she asks if I want to buy her a drink.  I have absolutely no desire to do this but I do anyway. 

She gives me a card and it has a Bettie Page type drawing on it with her stage name and her number.  She quotes me days and prices and says she doesn’t give this to anyone but she feels like she can trust me.  I knew it.  I knew she really liked me, that she really felt something.  You’re a fucking idiot if you believe that.  She’s telling you what the price is, she only hopes she did a good enough job that you’ll be stupid enough to withdraw more money and keep going or to call her in a couple days.  Christ, she even tells me how much she typically expects for tips.  I know I’ll give her a call though.  How can I not?   She is wonderful.  And prices are always negotiable.  Depending on what I want to do she may lower them a bit or I can pay a little more if need be.  I see us laying together afterward, holding each other and she sees how different I am from other clients.  I won’t just be a client for you. 

I glance over at the bar and see an obese and ugly man enter.  He looks around and one of them walks over to him.  All she does is smile and extend her hand and he accepts and they walk to the back for a private dance. 

“Do you want another?” she asks me then. 

And I do. 

A hug before you go Part 1

A car salesman’s voice announces it is my turn.  One of them steps down and we do not a say a word to each other.  It’s much easier to avoid any communication with her than it was even just a few weeks ago.  She takes longer than necessary to collect her tips.  I glance at the bills – some lying sweat stained and crumpled on the wooden floor and some clasped in her hand – and I know there cannot be more than twenty dollars there.  I smile because I am sure I can get more than that.  She sees the smile but does not return it and I hope she knows what I am thinking. 

I’m on my knees now and my back actually hurts more in this position than when I am on the pole.  A fat sloppy one is right in front of me.  He has an orange hat on and a t-shirt with the American flag.  He is smiling and there is so much satisfaction there.  He is not ugly enough to never receive any attention and he has tipped almost nothing despite sitting through 3 different girls.  All the same, I fondle my breasts and merrily spread my legs, my thong is still on but I run my finger up my pussy and give him a quick eyebrow raise.  These lights are flickering so fast.  There are so many ugly ones here tonight and that can mean a very profitable evening.  I think I want to go home and eat something or maybe I want to sleep, I’m not sure.  They love to watch me touch myself.  Sometimes I practice in front of a mirror.

Here is one who loves my tits and I finger them and pinch my nipples and balance a few dollar bills on top of them.  I am smiling and when he laughs I laugh to and he throws a few more dollars my way.  There is one next to him who could possibly fall in love and his eyes are so sad and pathetic and I will ask if he wants a dance once my set is over and if he says yes once he will say yes at least four more times.  I am sweet and maternal and kind.  I bend over in front of and stick a hand between my legs.  I swing around and there is glee.  I am a gymnast and I am graceful and everyone is in awe.  I used to love dancing when I was a little girl.  I loved dancing and I loved my stuffed bear Jimmy.  He was purple and my mom bought him for me.  Sometimes I love when they love me.  How long has it been since a woman has touched you?  Jesus.  She came home one day after work and gave him to me.  But I always think of you dad.  In the backroom I set about cleaning myself.  I touch my crotch and ass and bring my fingers up to my nose and they smell like him and sweat and I laugh a little.  I strip down all the way and rinse and perfume myself and I put my underwear back on.  Jesus, panties is such a stupid fucking word, who said that? 

There’s that voice again.  I don’t have to ask many before I get the right answer.  God when is it going to kick in?  I sit on his lap and say some stupid thing in the same moment.  I’m not even sure what I say but it’s all some variation on him needing some company or the girls here being so welcoming.  He grunts when I put all my weight on him and puts his hand on my back.  His hand is warm and clammy.  He smells sterile, he smells like aftershave and bleach.  My mommy and daddy are somewhere else, my sister too.  I met a guy last week and we had a drink and we fucked later that night and then I never texted him and he never texted me and he made a very feminine noise when he came and I hadn’t finished yet but this distracted me.  Oh God I hope I have more because the one I took earlier is not making me feel any better maybe Alicia has some.  I think I took four, I can take another.  I’m on fire.  I still have to pay the house. 

I shove my tits in his face and shake them back and forth and when I pull back I tilt my head down and give him that pleased smile they love so much.  He returns my smile with one of deep satisfaction and I can feel just the slightest inkling of an erection.  He likes to see me pleased and believe he is the one making it happen.  I turn over and grind my ass into his dick and flip my hair around – God I hate this fucking song oh who really gives a fuck though and this idiot could spread his fucking feet just a little farther apart to make this easier what was that show I watched the other day I’d like to see more and maybe read a little I am the best here.  I turn my head and let out a gentle girly sigh of satisfaction.  He is much harder now and I bounce up and down in accordance with the beat.  I am the one you love.  Your smell is on me like so many others but you love me now just like everyone else does you want to fuck me but we’ll go this far and I will sleep later and I love these lights.  He loses his erection after a few seconds but I grind just as hard as ever and then I stand up and my pussy is right in his face and he breathes deep and exhales and I feel his breathe right there in my center and I have so much energy and I can see at least three others who would want this.  Where is everybody?   I need to stop by the store later. 

In this moment I love you so much and I can feel that you really love me.  No, I’m not thinking of you, I’m thinking of him, how long have we known each other?  Does it even matter?  It doesn’t matter at all he’s different in a weird way and we’re going to go away.  I love you too though, look how easy you are, I’m starting to feel better too.  The music is so loud tonight but it doesn’t really bother me.  I don’t have to listen to your voice if the music is loud enough.  I have to register by Thursday.  This one doesn’t need any tricks or stupid little flirty remarks and he doesn’t need me to laugh at his jokes.  He just wants me to grind my ass against his cock and he likes to smell my hair.  He pinches but who really cares?  They sometimes tip more if they pinch.  Should I give him my card afterwards?  He seems nice enough, maybe I will.  It doesn’t matter.  I have appointments with Jason and whatever the fuck his name is for Friday afternoon. 

He tells me I’m beautiful and it’s easy to feel nothing but it’s easier to feel how funny and sid that is.  You actually pay for something like this but I will happily take your money for so little work.  Oh no, this one does need me to talk and laugh.  Maybe I can get a drink out of it though.  I’m not sure which line I use: the one about my shoes or the one about the color in my hair or my tattoos or maybe I talk about the friend or family member which lives in the same city where he’s from.  I would love to go home and sleep right now.  You have not showered today.  His eyes look familiar, I am made of gold.  The others are laughing and I join in, I won’t remember him later on or maybe I will.   

Who's been wearing Miranda's clothes?

I was in my own car this morning and my hands were on the wheel and I was staring out at the road but I did not feel like I was actually driving.  However time passed and I arrived at my destination so I must have been.  Still, I felt a strange haze over things, like my basic senses were being smudged out.  A lack of clarity is not such a bad thing I suppose.  An overall diminished capacity to feel anything must be better on some level than feeling everything too strongly to a detrimental effect. 

There is an angel dressed in white.  It’s been five years which is such an absurdly appropriate span of time.  Five years, my brain hurts a lot.  It was an accidental meeting at a time and place quite fleeting.  She smiled so wondrous and my heart was fastly beating.  I loved her!  I loved her!  I was too afraid to say but I loved her.  Oh how I see that time and scream in unbridled joy.  There was food on the table and doppelgangers abound.  However I soon came to realize this was not some genetically perfect clone but an actual heaven sent power of body and mind.  This was beauty and intelligence and such exquisite fabric.  Good gravy how I longed for her. I tell myself not to be so honest and I buy my suits at the thrift store by the pound.  She made me wax poetic before destroying my fragile ego.  I sacrificed all professional ethics and was all too happy to do so.  I climbed walls and drank tea at parties with madmen all in the name of her. 

I was like a child following you around and I laughed at all your jokes.  And I knew we were compatible, you were the egg whites to my yokes!  See, the poetry just flows out of me now because of her!  Words truly cannot express how much I hate myself.  If I just sit down and let my fingers do the talking they peck out thousands upon thousands of self-loathing sentiments and rightfully so because I am an impossibly ugly and worthless individual.  I now always hear a rich and wonderful melody when I picture her face.  I know that I will be calling to mind her smile and hearing her song for the rest of my life.  This gives me great comfort.  In my most tortuous moments I think of you and I am feeling fine. 

The morning was pure shit as always.  I saw you enter the room and in that moment all the awful and meaningless garbage which I’ve allowed to run rampant in my life ceased to matter.  There were zombies all around us but they did not approach you.  Were they somehow afraid, I wonder?  With a snap of your fingers you made them all go away. 

As Adler’s words echoed through my brain I was entranced by another.  Even after all the cigarettes and booze and all the leads the private eye was able to track down he never could have predicted who walked through the doors on that particular day.  Was murder still being considered art?   The death of the last century certainly could not have come at a finer moment.  In the end all was well.  He received his payment.  The mystery may never be entirely solved and it may haunt my brain for the rest of my days but I at least I still met her.  Oh that day when I met Ramona. 

In my dreams I was lost in a world of black and orange.  And what a sweet new heaven I discovered.  Was I thrust somewhere onto a bed of flowers which stretched out into eternity?  There were millions of bottles lined up with brightly colored liquids, perfumes crafted by the gods themselves.  All this put my body in a state of shock and ecstasy.  I closed my eyes and let this wash over me.  My nerves were connected to live wires.  “Because I bathed this morning.”  That is what you said.  But the language was decidedly not of this world.  You created machines and their mechanics generated music.  Hand on my neck and then pain is inflicted on me.  Something made of cotton or silk is stuffed inside my mouth to prevent me from crying out.  Oh such thrills.  My tongue tastes sweetness.  There is metal kissing my lips.  Then I am on my back.  There are no words which can accurately describe the exquisiteness.  What a furious day you had running to and fro, up and down, back and forth and all in those glorious black high heeled shoes and the oh so appropriate office garb.  Please let me inside so I can fully appreciate the thoroughness of your work.  I am a beggar.  She gives me a thousand lashes and I hear a saxophone in the background. 

You put something inside my head which makes it pulse and throb and I am unable to think clearly and words do not come easy.  How could such beauty be so close?  Someone out there is telling lies at more than a thousand miles an hour.  My life is only the accumulation of so many days in which I have utterly failed you.  There was a white mask and I stared into the eyes which were behind it.  They made me feel joyous for the return because I finally realized the full depth of what was previously lost.  They were all also frightening and I wondered about all the hidden thoughts and all the darkness contained behind the stark white.  I do not know how many years are left and it is not a question I like to ponder.  I think of us meeting somewhere at a department store here in Manhattan, maybe a mid-level floor with nearby escalators going up and down.  For some reason I picture it in the jewelry department.  Our eyes meet and the moment of recognition is a sweet shock.  Then I tell you everything. 

I see so much joy looking through your eyes. 

I helped Jonathan on the train

I felt deranged for the better part of this day.  Everything I wrote seemed to come out in capital letters, bolded and in extra-large size.  I had to say goodbye the other day but even once the act was done and even after hours of crying I did not know to what or to whom I was saying goodbye.  There is such romanticism as I watch myself bleed.  Yet I see this trait in another and it does not move me to create the earth.  You are my Delilah and it only took one look into your eyes for me to be trapped and I know it is there I shall remain.  It is a new age of sadness and unbridled passion and it never appears so lonely as when the moon casts a light across the bed and its thin grey covers form sculptures of imperfect and beautiful bodies.  Tears always fall on opposite sides and always onto the sheets, never onto a chest or shoulder. 

Did I ask for this?  Desire has a way of creeping into your brain and soul and taking over.  One second it is a passing glance and in the next it is every thought and the entire universe itself once your eyes are closed. 

I remember meeting on the corner there on a very busy city street.  I walked through the city and felt so many dreams unfolding around me.  There was so much joy in the city landscape.  The skyline was changing by the second. 

It was casual happenstance.  It took millennia for everything to line up properly and then when it happened it existed in the space of a few seconds.  There was a tearless embrace and in that moment there was more safety and beauty than in any other which had come before.  So many mistakes had come and gone but that moment could never be a mistake.  Who was passing by and who bore witness to the history unfolding?  He was lost inside and there was no sweeter place to be; so many soft lies in that instant where love was felt for the first and last time.

The nails were black and dripping.  Inside her blood was wine.  Sin was lurking just beneath the surface and it felt so exquisite to give in.  The uncommon silence and the innocent touch transformed into something restorative.  Complacency and boredom were both murdered and in their place grew the body of a seductive and untrustworthy savior.  Down in the dungeon they are being whipped but they are smiling all the same and the stone floors are stained with their joy and ecstasy. 

Venus is so beautiful in the morning.  I awoke and saw you there fulfilling that aching need.  You smiled at me and seemed so far away and this was somehow comforting.  Do you remember on the beach when I set fire to the ambulance and danced all around while it burned and sent smoke to the sky and across the ocean?  My hands were upraised and I was screaming and I felt like we had accomplished this all together.  And then you drove off without me and I gave chase but it was futile as ever.  Regarding those final moments though, I always choose to believe you were happy and that you were able to feel the freedom you deserved but which so frequently eluded you. 

My conscience is breaking glass.  Most days I prefer never to leave my room.  None of my ideas are my own and my feelings and desires always run contrary to what should be.  I believe when they are staring face to face there are moments when they both know and understand exactly what is going on.  There is screaming inside both their brains.  There are no more sacred vows or promises which are not made to be broken.  Everything held to be true flies away like doves and what remains is the sweet lust and the lovely pain – like biting a lower lip until blood is drawn – which never goes away.  They are both stained and nothing can wash it off.  They would not want to anyway. 

The days have turned to grey again.  I feel like I’m looking into a deer’s eyes when I wake up in the morning and it is alluring and frightening.  There is no one holding me back yet I have such a strange desire to murder my darlings.  Black birds fly past my window and they are so close I can sometimes feel their wings flutter against the glass.  I sometimes imagine them breaking through the windows at once and flying around me and sticking their beaks in my eyes.  I have devoured all romantic yearnings and sexual desire has always been such a disgusting thing that it is easy enough to repress.  I would be surprised if anyone could truly know my mind but I still put it out there for anyone so inclined. 

I drowned it.  There is no simpler way to put it.  Sitting there by myself and watching cars pass by I made the conscious decision to hold it underneath until it could not breathe anymore.  The death was slow but as thankfully absolute as any other.  There were so many pitying eyes.  Why did they bother to apologize?  They knew I was the only one who should have been apologizing.  I am not allowed anywhere.  When everything was spinning I opened the door and something walked through and it is now hiding behind every corner.  It’s hiding inside of me.  I splashed my own blood on the canvas and thought of that night.  Your gift echoed in my brain as it would until my final moments and I screamed in delight over everything I had destroyed. 

Something’s going to happen to me. 

I'm confused

I opened my eyes asked myself the same questions as always and I found I knew even less about who I am.  Upon that moment of awakening I choked back a few tears and as I stared at the ceiling I could only conclude their presence was a reaction to this continuing charade.  As ever, I was mystified by your ability to stop time.  This should no longer be such an impactful surprise to me but somehow it still very much is.  It seems I deny miracles at every second yet they never stop coming.  There were several empty bottles on the mantle by my bed and an old sound system which was still playing the music I’d put on the night before. 

There were red curtains and I parted them and walked outside, as Leon had taken us outside almost two decades prior.  Standing on the balcony, I sang to myself and though the words were not my own – or perhaps because of this – they provided a momentary comfort.    I held my arms out and I think if anyone was looking at me they would not know if I were making a crucifix pose or if I desired an embrace.  I stared at the river and the cityscape beyond its current and they were both beautiful.  I considered jumping into the river and imagined the comfort of no more tomorrows. 

But still I found myself in the familiar place and as ever I was unable to entirely fit in.  No one noticed me all the same but I noticed them and all these kind faces were a stark contrast to everything that was winding and coiling beneath the surface.  But what is this debt that I still need to pay?  And those who have been inquiring about this battle inherent in the natural state of things are likely to walk away deeply disturbed and perhaps irrevocably broken by the answers.  I wish I could say I see everything through your eyes and that it is all brilliant and shining.   

I could scarcely understand my own words.  How is it that everything else was able to continue turning in that instant?  The piece of silver hanging around my neck felt heavier than ever before.  I wondered if any of it could actually be real.  What were they expecting of this sad creature that lives only at midnight and who is undone at every dawn?  I could feel my spirit vanish and for a moment I did not know who I was.  This sensation is recurring with far more frequency than before.  It disappeared before my eyes and my hands shook at the full realization of my hypocrisy.

Finally, I felt the embrace I had desired for so long.  Was this cause for celebration?  I saw it coming from the corner of my eye and in that moment I felt a strange mix of wish-fulfillment anticipation and a self-loathing at my inherent falsehood.  The palace doors were as welcoming as any I’d ever entered and what an honor it was to go inside.  A wave of tenderness passed over me and I wanted to relinquish all control succumb to its sweetness.  I closed my eyes and for a moment the blackness I always saw turned a shade of blue.  But this was not my place and never could be.   

Everything was casually broken.  I was struck by the silence of so many tears.  I have traded grace for the bag of coins in someone’s pocket.  The hesitation I exhibited would only seem more pathetic in retrospect.  I walked through falling leaves and heard an elegy but did not know whom it was for.  There was a mother with me and I saw weariness in her eyes.  Her smile was no longer her own but something the years had given to her, a worn scar of what used to be there.  She wore a long black dress and she cradled a stuffed bear to her chest.  The bear’s stitching was loose in several places and the stuffing was coming out, one of his ears hung by a few strands.  She was saying things I could not understand and the harder I tried to make sense of it the more distant her voice became.  She reached out but I pulled back.  Staring in to her eyes, I was struck by how unafraid she was.  She walked away then and I watched her go into the sun and disappear.  I cried for a long time afterward and I knew I would never see her again.  My time with her in this life or in any other was done. 

I keep disappointing you, every day I find new ways.  I don’t know any more what is genuine.  There is a coldness which is threatening to overpower everything.  Everything is outside and it’s happening now.  They appear to me, new and full of promises and I reject them.  I see things that are going to happen and I do nothing to alter their outcome.  I never would have imagined any of this.  Am I truly speaking with you?  And if so does it even matter what I say?  My very public disgrace and shaming was not nearly enough.  I do not know which voice has been silenced.  

Where did this come from?

It begins with anticipation.  Days stretch into weeks and weeks into months and so on and patience is a necessary and a surprisingly potent tonic.  So much comes down to the proper paperwork and it is printed and signed and dated and copies are made and stacks and stacks of it are clipped together and handed out to the appropriate parties.  Strange men in suits come to collect these documents and they make sure not a word is out of place.  They are pleased when they if I am sure because they already know I will say yes.  There is a dance at hand, a type of grandiose game and everyone has their part to play.  I cannot tell you yours before it is time for the show to begin but I can assure that a richly appropriate role awaits you.  

I am allowed to enter early on but only because my signature was made in red.  I am smiling at first but only at first. 

There is trembling in the temple and it is difficult for me to keep proper footing.  The halls are lined with ugly things and the sounds of their screaming fill the stretching black voids.  They are naked distortions of humanity and their movements are characterized by the wanton deformities and tumors on their legs and feet.  They have an endless appetite and I watch them consume the meat; organs ripped from animals or people or one another.  I watch as one tears open the stomach of another and wraps the intestines around her neck to finish the job and then they are both joined together and they are writhing and shaking and clasping hands and sometimes it sounds like they are shrieking and other times it sounds like laughter. 

There is such music and dancing and festivities and one grabs me and we waltz together and I let my head roll back to see the paintings on the ceiling of the tortured and the dying and blood running from their mouths and out of eye sockets and sometimes out of their respective sexual organs. 

The thing dancing with me has milky cataract ridden eyes and her mouth takes up half her face and is in a perpetually open state.  Her nostrils always appear flared and the nose itself quite reptilian and sunken into her face.  Her hair is gray and white twine spooling down around her face and stopping just short of her shoulders.  Her teeth are yellowed and sharpened and when she smiles and that mouth opens even wider the sight is truly horrifying and the stench of her breath nearly sends me vomiting. 

She is naked and I can see that her body is covered with cuts.  Many of these have been scarred over and are puckered and some of them run over one another like a grid.  But some of the cuts are quite fresh indeed and the exposed flesh beneath and the blood seeping out is a shockingly bright red.  Her blood is now all over me.  The skin which has not been cut has the color of a bruise on once white flesh.  She grabs one of my hands with a gnarled one of hers and the long nails dig into my palm and pierce my skin.  She forces my fingers inside one of the cuts on her stomach – right below her breasts – and pushes my hand further inside and I feel moist and tough meat and the rhythmic pulsing of her vile rotting interior.    

More of these things advance upon us and they strip me of my clothing and run slime covered hands through my hair and stick fingers and blistered tongues into my mouth.  Every time they touch – just as every time my not quite human partner presses her body closer to my own – my mind is set aflame with a new vision of excruciating torture and death.  There is so much rape and dismemberment taking place and I somehow recognize all the screaming faces. 

They grab my manhood then and I look away in time to feel crippling, thunderous pain shoot from my waist, down into my legs and up into my stomach.  I look down; it is still there but in an impossibly advanced state of some unknown disease; all grey and black with pus and blood oozing out. 

“They all look so pretty that way, don’t they?” one of them says this and her voice is like she swallowed broken glass. 

We continue to dance and she chants things I cannot understand and her eyes sparkle at these words and her smile grows somehow larger.  She never blinks I notice and at one point the chants turn into something fuller but then her voice turns completely shrill and she is screaming for me to love her and telling me of all the joy we are going to share.  She grabs my shoulders and pushes me down on my knees. 

Her exposed sex reeks as though it were an animal carcass left out in the sun.  She pulls it wide and I can see maggots and worms crawling inside.  As she pulls my head closer a large black spider crawls out of it and scurries up to her neck. 

It is here that any semblance of my old personality has been completely stripped away.  Tears are spilling out of my frantic eyes while I search for something, anything to focus on aside from the continuing onslaught of horrors.  I am aware that I am screaming and I believe I am attempting to say something through the screams but the words are at best unintelligible.  I have pissed myself and my body is a quivering and sweaty husk. 

“You will love me now,” she says.  “Just as you always wanted.  You will love me now and I will show you what true love feels like.”

I am penetrated and I am fully thrust forward.  My insides scream and every part of me is broken. 

Some part of me, a distant remnant of sanity, is pleading for forgiveness for my desires but they all laugh at my cries.  I will taste blood and then disease and then I will taste death.  They tell me all of this.  And they assure me that it is only the beginning our nights together.  

Don't be afraid to explore turquoise and black

Well that was quite nice of Dell to send me a Mach 3 Turbo.  Tell me dear philanderers, what is the difference between a Turbo and a non-Turbo?  I took the liberty of looking up Gillette in terms of being an ethical company, and they were not on the ethical list.  I hope I am not now investigated for the time I passed out at the wedding after relating my extensive CIA experience over drinks to a Mexican call girl I hired who was wearing black high heels and unwashed seamed hosiery (per request).  However, I believe they are attending a symposium on the ethical treatment of animals, so they soon (I hope) will be placed on the "nice" list.  I had this thought originally several years ago so who knows what extensive changes to our fair planet have changed since then?  It does sound like it was a cool experience.

I’ve never had candied apples, unless you count pies. Candied pears are good.  We are all oddballs. Though if one listens to Tatiana they may come to the conclusion that we are all angels.  I personally love Tatiana so I would be inclined to agree with her save for my perennially overpowering cynicism which prevents this. 

Hmm.. if I had found out that everything I have told me so far were lies, I’d probably be very disappointed. And hurt. And I’d probably wonder why you were lying. Something in your past? A mental disorder? A fear to face yourself? A fear to face others?  Weakness? Maybe I was placed in suspended animation due to floating around in a block of ice.  No one ever considers that my possibility when they chose to reprimand me for my dishonesty.   

ahhh.. Twix aren't bad. I miss the cookies n’ cream variety which existed so many years ago that I am beginning to wonder if they in fact only ever truly existed in my dreams.   Someone I used to know once asked something about chocolate but I can’t remember the particulars of the question.  All the same, I believe my answer was a staunch “no”. 

I purchased the new Tom Petty and the Heartbreakers album yesterday afternoon and then I listened to it.  I also listened to it today.  My first impressions are overall quite positive.   It is a charming, rocking record and thankfully stripped of most of the blues riffing of their last album.  It definitely has a “garage” feel to it and demands to be played at high volumes.   I look forward to bonding further with this newest work. 

I don’t lie

...am still reeling, thinking about things, it was all so surreal, I think I will have more to say about it next time, but one thing I forget that I liked was in the opening fight scene when the funny man starts throwing knives and the king catches one, I liked that.

But anyway

I was on allmovie.com and looking at the review of The Haunting of <olly...(sorry the last name escapes me) and they gave it 1 and 1/2 stars (which is very bad).  The review said a lot of bad things about the movie and also said it had a laughable, ludicrous conclusion.  The ending is my favorite part.  It’s all about the ending.  I often think that while I’m eating corn on the cob (which is never).    

I have to know.  I screamed that for hours while I was locked in the asylum following a daring bank heist and subsequent forced retirement.  I changed the world with my inventions but then I was shunned.  Kids these days, no respect. 

Early on in my life I fell madly in love with the comic book character Vampirella and I don’t think my life has ever fully recovered.  To think it all started with a man’s dying dreams and a few spare coins in my pocket. 

Thanks again for a lovely time said absolutely no one ever to me over the course of my entire life. 

This is the release I wrote for a shipping business I attempted to start but which never took off: Cajamadera.com covers the entire Mexican republic and through that we are able to utilize all the main modes of transport available there such as Aeromexexpress, the post office, White Star, DHl, Fedex – Multipack – ADO and UPS.  Additionally, we have our own vehicular fleet that operates specially in the City of Mexico and its Metropolitan area.  Delivery to the federal district and its metropolitan zone is free.  Shipping to anywhere in Mexico is approximately $75 per package plus shipping and handling.  For example, if you are sending several products but they can fit in a single box, the total cost would still be $75 plus shipping and handling.  The more products sent in one order, the more inexpensive it will be. 

I think about my mistakes all the time.  That was a mistake.

I once sent a man a picture of a mariachi queen and though I longed to find her and even traveled to the ends of the earth in my search I was never able to fulfill this dream.  Please someone help me. My mind is not my own.  Things invade my body every night and I am scared.  They put things inside of me.

In= I think it’s really…

Runs= 14 seconds

Out=…a really good idea.

Of course i did not have the guts (nuts) to ask.  I eat nuts.  But I am not nuts.  I have returned from the dead.  Or have I?  I am all too sane and understand it perfectly.  It was swept to one side.  Unkept.  But lovely.  I am not lovely.   I run away cause I am coward not brave but coward I am yellow the color of piss and kiwi (the bird Taz likes eat).  I run and come back and talk stupid cause I am not smart but stupid the color of dumb.  I must erase it all but no one will erase the biggest mistake of all!  That mistake is me because I am emo and ugly and worthless.   
Someone should take a large Pink Pet and erase this grotesque yellow mistake.

I want you to know even though you are not reading this: I still love you, more than anything and you are still inside me more than anyone. 

Thank you for hugging me, I will never forget that. 

Thank you for saving me.

I want to go away.

Thank you, I love you. 

They're like Frosted Flakes, he said

…and how anyone could have looked at Nicholas Hoult’s Beast design and say it doesn’t look like shit is beyond me.  There are two things which (just barely) keep this movie afloat: Kevin Bacon as villain Sebastian Shaw and Michael Fassbender as villain in training Magneto.  Fassbender is one of the grooviest actors of our generation and never phones it in, managing to elevate every poorly written and constructed scene in which he appears – which is pretty much all the scenes he’s in.  And Bacon is simply sumptuous as the energy absorbing former Nazi and all around mean guy Shaw and provides a desperately needed spark of, hmmmm, life?  Character?  Anything worth watching?  I’ll have my Kevin Bacon with an order of pancakes and a side of eggs cooked over easy!  Bacon does it again!  Notice I didn’t say James McAvoy elevates things because he was a daft, dank and damned dirge of a disenchanting dull Professor X.   

I challenge anyone who truly believes they liked this movie to watch it again and to think about a couple things: If there had not been four X-Men related movies prior to this one then would it still be anywhere near as enjoyable?  If this movie had come out in 2011 and had been the first X-Men movie would it have launched a franchise which now has 7 movies?  Is there anything about this damn movie that doesn’t seem like just another paint-by-numbers ultra-dull origin story where basically nothing happens and we watch for over 2 interminable hours just so we can see Professor X end up in a wheelchair and Magneto put on a fucking helmet?!  I hate this movie!  I have no qualms whatsoever calling X-Men First Class the worst in the franchise by a large margin.  I would watch X-Men Origins: Wolverine a thousand times in a row before daring to watch this once more.  I hate it so much that I’m going to eat a big bowl of Trix cereal with whole milk!  You only want me for my acres!  Honestly, if anyone reading this has the brass balls to go watch this movie for a second time and tell me they still liked it and explains to me why I will give them five dollars American currency on the spot!  I truly believe everyone who ever said this was a good movie was suffering from kind of psychogenic fugue and failed to notice the complete absence of engaging, well developed characters, interesting story developments or even a vague attempt to weave dozens of disparate and frankly cheap looking scenes together.  And that’s not hyperbole either!  Anyone who said this was a good movie is objectively, factually wrong and anyone who said they liked it was not operating under a clear frame of mind and would think differently upon a second and sober viewing.  Bad, bad movie.    

I have found you and I fail you on what sometimes feels like a moment by moment basis.  There is such anger and hate which festers inside of me and sometimes even for people whom I claim to love. 

What am I doing here?  Please someone shoot me please someone shoot me please someone shoot me please someone shoot me!  What is this thing in my lap? 

Alain always breaks my heart.  How happy I am for this discovery. 

I was happier than a dog rolling in a steaming pile of pig shit to learn that a sequel is currently being made to RZA’s 2012 flick The Man with the Iron Fists.  As I have stated previously on this very blog the first film is such a lovingly rendered homage to classic Shaw Brothers kung fu movies that I could literally feel the passion oozing out of my woefully inadequate Vizio widescreen television set and covering me from head to toe.  I don’t know what this newest installment will have in store (though I suspect it won’t diverge too wildly from the original or their inspirations) but I await it with bated breath.  The fact that this second chapter will almost certainly be a direct to dvd, video on demand or extremely limited theatrical release flick actually fills me with greater anticipation since in recent years these humbler action films have been amongst the most intelligent, creative and interesting and a blissfully far cry from the increasingly bloated and boring messes Hollywood churns out. 

As I re-watch the Lord of the Rings trilogy I am continually struck like a bolt of lightning from Zeus himself by how much more I am enjoying them these days in comparison to my initial viewing so many years ago.  Of course they nearly bored me to death so many years ago so exceeding my original expectations slash appraisals is not in and of itself a great leap.  That being said, it has thus far not simply been a case of increased tolerance but genuine active enjoyment. And though there is still a part of me dreading the seemingly endless The Return of the King what with its roughly 37 tacked on endings it most assuredly is not the palpable bite-my-tongue off, please knife me in the gut type of dread which it would have been this time last year.  

The Two Towers was a predominantly enjoyable romp though its natural state – at least in cinematic form – as something which does not quite have a beginning and most definitely does not have an ending leaves me feeling a bit unsatisfied but I admit I am likely in the minority on this.  There are also things which pop up throughout this trilogy which baffle me with their inclusion and sometimes drive down the respective movie in a shocking way. The constant use of Gimli as comic relief with the mirthless and endless parade of short jokes and competitive jibes with the sleep inducing Legolas was already grinding but it comes to a stunningly awful apex in the climactic battle of Helm’s Deep scenes where the two start counting how many of Saruman’s drones they’ve slaughtered to see who can get the highest number.  I half expected them to start slapping fives – down low! – and pop open a couple of brews (preferably PBR) while in the thick of this supposedly heated battle.  It just kept destroying the tone and nearly all semblance of tension when the scene would cut from an ultra-serious and on point Aragorn fighting for the lives of the humble townsfolk and their king and then jump to these jokers merrily giggling their way through the fray and surfing down the stairs.  Just thinking about this scene right now is getting me steamed!  It was like something from a Pirates of the Caribbean movie and that is never a flattering comparison to make.  

The talking trees also bring the movie to a screeching halt every time they appear with the payoff of their storyline at the film’s end hardly seeming to justify their repeated inclusion.  I truly believe you could have shown the two lesser hobbits meeting them once and then simply include their burst-into-battle-to-attack-Saruman’s-tower scene at the end and no one would have been crying out for those additional thirty minutes of talking trees scenes.  I could be mistaken but they would seem to be even more arbitrary given that particular storyline’s culmination complete lack of significance in Return of the King (if tortured memory serves).  And as much as a great many of the FX of this flick – and indeed the trilogy as a whole – should be praised the trees just look so ridiculous and their dialogue so droning that I knew I would shortly commit a serious act of relief inducing self-mutilation if they did not cease.  Though I admit I did find it cute when the tree who was set on fire put himself out in the freshly unleashed dam water, it was a subtle comical touch and far funnier than most of the other forced shoehorned in humor.  But still, Two Towers was infinitely more enjoyable this time around! 

There are going to be some people reading this who will find it a sacrilege that I prefer The Man with the Iron Fists to any of the Lord of the Rings movies.  If I ever meet those people I will happily strip naked and dance a ballet for them.  It is those glorious differences of opinion that make this world such a wonderful subjective place.  As David Bowie says, “and there is no hell like an old hell”.  Without David I would have seen my brains splatter all over the off-white walls of my posh flat many moons ago.  I consider ending it all at least once an hour – typically on the hour and in accordance with my Azimuth brand watch which keeps excellent Swiss quartz time – and it is almost always the voice and words of David which hold me back.  Perhaps in that respect he is actually doing the world a grave disservice through his art but all the same I cannot keep myself from listening. 

I knew my gun had no bullets when I pointed it at the piano player.