My Favorite Movies of 2014!

2014 has come to a long overdue and bitter end and that can only mean the always highly controversial list of my favorite movies of the year is finally here. I should also mention someone knocked on my door at roughly 2:30 AM last night.  Actually, "banged" on my door might be more accurate.  All day I've been wondering if this same individual will come to my home at the same time tonight.  I have strong suspicions as to this individual's identity but the implications are so terrifying I dare not write them.  

Before the list commences I would like to repeat something I wrote last year: this is not a list of the "best" movies of 2014.  I was unfortunately not able to view every release from the past 365 days and I would never presume to have the intelligence, wit or depth of understanding of the art of cinema to craft such a list.  These are simply my favorites of the year, the ones that moved me the most and they should only be taken as such.  

13. Dredd

Some may find it odd that a movie which was released in the fall of 2012 has managed to appear on my lists for 2013 and 2014 but that’s just testament to this film's greatness and staying power!  It’s even doubly relevant this year due to the release of the awful Robocop remake.  You see, before Paul Verhoeven directed the original 1987 Robocop he was actually seeking to make a Judge Dredd movie but this was halted due to rights issues and so much red tape.  However, the character's influences are all over that flick - just look at the similarity in helmet design - and it remains a rightful classic.  The remake was all kinds of terrible and just shows how difficult it can be to craft that rare perfect blend of action, humor, gore and general grooviness.  Dredd had all this is in spades two years ago and is already taking on the sweet and somber hues of a classic.  As its following only continues to grow I'm sure it will survive the coming years without issue.  

12. True Detective

I've been watching more television these days and catching up on the countless programs my so called friends have been recommending for the past few decades.  That doesn't really apply in this case because no one I knew actually watched True Detective but I tried it just the same as it seemed like the perfect show for someone like me: mystery, serial murder, great actors like Matthew McConaughey, Woody Harrelson, Michelle Monaghan, and best of all it was only 8 episodes; a complete story, little chance of overstaying its welcome and stretching on to interminable lengths of repetition, padding and banal nothingness.  And across those eight episodes I was hypnotized like a psych patient recounting horrific memories of unspeakable parental abuse.  The mystery is great but what made this show list worthy is that it’s actually a very sophisticated character study of these two detectives and how their own inner turmoil in equal turns drives and threatens to destroy them.  And yes, the tracking shot that ends episode 4 is as amazing as everyone said. 

11. Hannibal Season 2

Intimate followers of my work know all too well my deep love and devotion for this show and may recall season 1 also appeared on this list last year.  That this love sprang forth like cleansing baptismal water from my initial skepticism somehow makes it all the more pleasurable.  I love being proven wrong in such a gleeful manner.  But I must say as much as I adored season 1 and how it consistently blew me away and restored my faith in television it seems almost primitive now that I witnessed the rapturous glory of season 2.  Leads Hugh Dancy and Mads Mikkelsen push themselves ever further in what is a delightfully grim and absurd exploration of the darkest corners of the psyche.  This season had so many twists and – far more importantly – nuanced characterization that I was left every week in a state of dry-heaving withdrawal until the next episode.  Highlights would practically be every episode but the creators led by Bryan Fuller outdid themselves with some truly wondrous examples of elegant gore and the overall tone of the season, especially as it reaches its end, of sheer operatic tragedy feels so utterly proper.  Hannibal satisfies my thirst for psychological intrigue, for darkness, for gore, for wit and it does this all in style.  I'd like to comment on the score now: Brian Reitzell provides the music for Hannibal - sometimes working in classical themes as well - and the music is as important as any character or storyline.  Whether it is playing up the horror or the absurd it cranks every scene up several notches.  This is no more true than in the climactic scene of the entire season set it Hannibal's kitchen; a scene already fantastic for its direction, acting and photography becomes tear inducing beauty with the score.  The producers seem to recognize the greatness of the music since 4 soundtrack albums (2 for each season) have been released so far.  It is hard for me to imagine how this show could increase in greatness but if it somehow stays the course I have no doubt this will simply become one of my favorite pieces of art.  Period. 

10. Interstellar

This was the most difficult choice for me and I considered just making this a top 9 list but somehow Christopher Nolan’s latest kept sticking in my brain like melted cheese drying out on a greasy pan.  This movie is so all over the place it almost makes me sick.  I would say it is even sloppier than The Dark Knight Rises (maybe, its close) and I would be quite comfortable calling it Nolan's worse movie.  And yet!  And yet there are so many ideas here!  Passion literally bursts out of the screen and strangles me until the blood vessels in my eyes pop.  There are entire sections and characters I feel could be written out entirely and the movie would be none the worse and I would even ultimately say that the final payoff does not work at all.  And yet!  And yet I also believe and feel that Nolan continuously challenged himself with this movie and challenged the audience’s expectations over simple popcorn entertainment.  Does it scale the Kubrickian heights of 2001: A Space Odyssey or does he have Spielberg’s touch for effortlessly selling the over-saccharine?  Definitely not and almost not at all.  And yet!  And yet within this movie are moments small and large that completely captured me and immersed me in that big screen spectacle in a way so few movies can anymore in this special effects saturated age: the massive wave about to crash down on the crew, a climactic ship docking scene that had me pissing my trousers, the unexpected majesty of a "sounds of thunderstorms" musical selection being played over the sojourn through space.  The ideas are thrilling and audacious (just the fact that such a big movie has ideas is a thrill) and the robots have a rare and surprisingly original design.  I desperately hope Nolan goes back to smaller fair for his next flick but despite all of its many problems I think I will be cherishing Interstellar for a long time as a testament to exploration not within space but within cinema and the glory of pushing your artistic goals and achievements.  

9. The Lego Movie

Those who know me best know I am not one to watch movies aimed for children.  I'll be raped and skinned alive for saying this but I don't really even care for Pixar or Disney movies.  I was suckered into watching The Lego Movie after losing a game of cards to a harpooner while we drank Singapore Slings and discussed baseball but I was ultimately glad for this loss as the film won me over in mere seconds.  Its kinetic energy kept slapping me in the face like a large mouth bass.  The story is ultimately simple and revels in the tropes of “the chosen one” type tales but while still promoting values I hold dear such as individuality.  But it is the rapid fire humor and great characters which kept me literally glued to my television screen.  There is also truly excellent voice work; Bad Cop is easily one of Liam Neeson's best roles.  Maybe I should start watching more movies aimed at youngsters.  Maybe I've just been wrong all this time with the only logical solution to be suicide.  Also, I loved the animation in this! I miss the old days of traditional 2d style animation but this is the first time in what feels like decades where I’ve felt excited by this newfangled all computer animation.  Just like the story, characters and jokes the look of the flick is a superb sugar rush and the animators come up with all sorts of creative ways to use Lego.  I'm also quite sure the maddening song "Everything is Awesome" will stick in my head until the end of my days.  

8. Noah 

2014 was definitely a year of religious movies of all colors and stripes from cash‘ins like Son of God to evangelistic films like God's Not Dead and Saving Christmas to big epics like Exodus: Gods and Generals and even a Nicholas Cage movie like Left Behind but the biggest of these - financially if not critically - was Darren Aronofsky's Noah and I would lay down my life to say it was also the most interesting and one of the most interesting movies I saw all damn year.  What Aronofsky has cannily done is something so few directors seem willing to do and that is treat a biblical tale with the same fervent devotion to artistic integrity and expression as they would any other narrative.  Simply put he remains essentially true to the verses while not allowing them to put a chain on his creativity. The end result is something that feels far more personal and layered as opposed to the dry paint-by-numbers style of Ridley Scott’s Exodus.  Some believers were put off by what they felt were outrageous changes such as rock angels, a Cain on the arc and a possibly homicidal Noah bent on viciously murdering his grandchildren.  Some non-believers were put off simply because they hate anything in any way associated with a Christian belief system. Many from both groups are complete idiots.  Aronofsky pulls and culls from biblical mythology in a way I’ve never seen done before – seeds from Eden, Nephilim fighting to protect the arc, Noah recounting creation to his family – and films scenes that are both beautiful and haunting such as Noah's visions, people clinging to rocks and screaming while the arc floats nearby and the new promised land found at the end. It is surely scattered, messy, oddly paced, riddled with uneven performances and difficult to call good in most traditional ways.  Yet each time I’ve watched I’ve been swept away just like all the other soggy sinners. 

7. Snowpiercer 

Bong Joon-Ho’s adaptation of Jacques Lob 1982 comic book (or graphic novel if you're a pretentious and self-hating slob) Le Transperceneige is a simple tale that maximizes its potential and setting in a way most films never do.  At some point in the future mankind has mostly died off after the earth has become a frozen wasteland.  What's left of humanity rides around the world in a big train with the poor and destitute in the back cars and the rich and controlling in the front.  All is in order until a rebel group decides to spark a revolution and make it to the front of the train without being slaughtered.  The symbolism is obvious but never feels heavy handed thanks largely to a great performance from Chris Evans and Joon-Ho’s commitment to keep things moving as fast as the titular train.  Each new car brings equal parts thrills and surprises and the story moves more fluidly than it has any right to.  This was one of the most fun times I had watching a feature film all year (though there are certainly some very real and very grim elements).  I'm known for being a notorious asshole and perennial buzzkill but sometimes even I enjoy a little fun.  

6. The Strange Color of Your Body’s Tears 

The directing duo of Helene Cattet and Bruno Forzani first got my attention back in 2009 with their gorgeous neo giallo Amer and they've done it again in mad style with this flick which carries on the long standing giallo traditions of having an amazing title and a story that may not make complete sense (or none at all) but that gives way to dizzying imagery and atmosphere by the buckets.  I grappled with this movie which is about a man named Dan played by Klaus Tange who returns home from a business trip to find his wife missing and upon further investigation stumbles into a world of intrigue inside his own apartment complex involving serial murder, bizarre eroticism and other missing women.  That sounds simple but by the end I had very little idea what was happening or why.  This movie was difficult, it was challenging, it was frustrating but it always had me.  The imagery is horrifying and dizzying and pretty as a painting and the sound design as immersive as Amer.  Essentially, this is a ghoulish and sexy fever dream and I wish there existed more.  There was a filmic technique which annoyed the piss and shit right out of me for the majority of this picture but is cannily revealed at the end as not merely a stylistic choice but a legitimate narrative device which develops the central storyline and themes.  That being said, I'm not really sure what the central themes are though it definitely has something to do with vaginas though whether it’s fear of them or love of them I can't say with any degree of certainty.  Such is the bizarre magic of this movie, it has stayed with me as something equal parts sadistic punishment and garish beauty and I have no idea to whom I would recommend it other than myself but that's good enough for me.  Our dark side is indeed our best side.  

5. Boyhood  

Richard Linklater claimed the much coveted top spot in my list last year with Before Midnight but he could only manage a hard 5 this year. Still, there is no shame in not being able to replicate the audacious perfection of his Before… trilogy (the best cinematic film trilogy ever? Probably.  Though the Hobbit films must certainly come close as well as Episodes I, II and III).  By now everyone who isn't an idiot knows the story behind this movie's filming: Over the course of 12 years or so Linklater and actors Ethan Hawke, Patricia Arquette, Linklater’s daughter Lorelei and most prominently Ellar Coltrane – who was 7-years-old when filming began in 2002 – gathered together for a bit each year to film additional scenes with the end goal being a filmic portrayal of Coltrane's character growing from a child to college age.  That is certainly an epic experiment but I submit it wouldn't matter much if the end result wasn't worth a damn.  Thankfully, the final product is extremely heartfelt while blissfully void of the saccharine.  Hawke oozes as much charisma as ever and Arquette anchors things with a reliably great performance but this is Coltrane's movie and over the course of 12 years condensed into two and a half hours he is intensely likable, relatable and wonderfully human.  This is an extremely rich and rewarding movie which frequently somehow made me feel both nostalgic and hopeful by highlighting life's experiences, life's difficulties and life's promise.  I very much look forward to growing with this film.  

4. Under the Skin

As countless others have pointed out, it’s easy to think of this as an ominous distant cousin to Nicolas Roeg’s 1976 movie The Man Who Fell to Earth though with Scarlett Johansen in the David Bowie role.  The plot can be very easily described as an alien disguised as a very attractive human woman (Johansson) drives around Glasgow, Scotland to lure men back to a mysterious place where bad things befall them.  That's basically it as for what happens.  But what is it about?  Ah, that is a much more difficult question (at least for a doddering fool like yours truly).  The questions it raises about sexuality - both in how we grapple with it in life but perhaps especially how we grapple with it when viewed through the prism of art - have stayed in my brain since the first viewing.  Along with those questions are some of my favorite scenes of the entire year that still resonate with a haunted beauty (in style if not necessarily in content): a ship hidden in the clouds above a cityscape, a child left alone on the beach, what happens to the men once the woman takes them back to her "home", and a particularly effective drive involving a deformed and doomed hitchhiker.  And above all this is Johansson's vacant and penetrating stare, cutting through everything else on screen and straight into my soul.  Like Interstellar this is full of Kubrick homages, though to a much greater effect.  Unfortunately I do think the final scene is a bad misstep but by this time the movie has built up so much good will it could have done just about anything and I still would love it.  I would also posit this flick as having the best score of any movie I've seen this year.  Mica Levi’s music is wonderfully creepy and gives me that glorious "something wrong is going down" feeling that I love so much.  

3. The Raid 2: Berandal

The Raid: Redemption was easily one of the best action movies of the past decade but director Gareth Evans somehow topped his already insanely high standards with an action epic for the ages.  This one ups the ante by combining the insane Indonesian martial arts style pencak silat of the first flick with an expansive crime narrative about rival gangs, undercover cops and usurpers to the corrupt thrones of power.  I won't belabor the plot details.  Potential viewers are here for one thing: the martial arts.  This aspect is so mind explodingly incredible it will make any fan of this genre weep with joy.  Not enough can be said about star Iko Uwais who reprises his role from the first film and who is a very human protagonist who still believably sells the near indestructible force of pencak silat that can fight through anyone in his way.  The speed and technical precision on display by Uwais, Cecep Arif Rahman and several others frequently left me giddy.  Throw in the best car chase of the year and two incredible new additions in the form of Hammer Girl and Baseball Bat Man and fights that keep raising the stakes and I was in fighting movie heaven.  The final battle in the kitchen between Uwais and Rahman is astonishing, bloody, brutal and utterly joyous to behold. As a man who loves his crime movies and his martial arts movies I can say it is merely very good in one aspect but a supreme near unparalleled masterpiece in the other. 

2. Birdman

Michael Keaton plays Riggan Thomson, an actor who once attained huge success in a superhero franchise but whose star has largely faded and is attempting a credibility comeback by writing, producing and starring in a Broadway adaptation of a Raymond Carver short story.  The movie chronicles the last few days leading up the premiere as Riggan has to grapple with his difficult relationship with his stagehand and daughter Sam (Emma Stone), the unpredictable and newly appointed lead actor Mike Shiner (Edward Norton), a critic who may destroy his last chance at doing something worthwhile, and, chiefly, his own ego and insecurities which threaten to crush him as he makes one last desperate stab for relevancy.  Director Alejandro González Iñárritu has crafted a gorgeous movie designed to look like one continuous shot.  The theatre, its roof, the streets of New York City and the stage all come to vivid life and I would say this is the best looking movie I've seen this year.  But even beyond that the rewards it provides are surprisingly strong.  The way Iñárritu shows Riggan’s crippling insecurities and crumbling sense of self is both tragic and comical and Antonio Sanchez’s drum score does everything right to enhance these themes. Norton does great work here and adds a substantial amount to a character that could have easily been one note.  But it is Keaton who is most definitely the center of this storm of the ego and though I certainly can't pretend to be impartial - I've loved Michael Keaton as long as I've loved movies - I can say his work is worth all the hype that's been lauded upon it.  As a man slowly crumbling from pressures both external and internal Keaton's work is masterful and crucially subtle.  His character is largely self-absorbed but impossible to hate because he feels so real and complex and through this Keaton offers several moments that are likely career best. His performance is at once the restrained anchor that holds it all together and the kinetic force of creative desperation that sends it to the stars.  Brilliant and layered, this a rare one that was worth all the hype.  Bravo to all.  

Also, for anyone who loves this or Keaton in general I would recommend a 2006 movie in which he starred called Game 6 that is also fantastic and has a few rather striking similarities. 

1.      Only Lovers Left Alive

And here we are.  My number one pick who's reputation is about to skyrocket thanks to my recommendation.  Tom Hiddleston and especially Tilda Swinton (who also did great work in Snowpiercer) are unbelievably perfect in their respective roles as a married couple who have lived for centuries due their vampire lifestyle.  There isn't so much a plot per se.  Sure, a few unexpected twists happen to push things along and some mild suspense is generated by a situation in the third act but this is mainly concerned with their relationship.  Director Jim Jarmusch lets the scenes breathe and the resulting tone is hypnotic with the performances heartfelt and gradually more absorbing.  Just when I thought I may never see another interesting vampire movie along comes this gem to blow my brains out.  It is also one of the most romantic flicks I’ve seen in ages.  And despite its more wistful tone Jarmusch did have time to slip in one classic and striking horror image and it makes for a beautiful and pitch perfect conclusion.  It’s an unassuming little motion picture and perhaps a left (or is that right?) field choice.  It’s not without its flaws and I do believe there are flicks on this list more proficient technically and even narratively. But when I review my list there are no other two characters with whom I bonded so fiercely as these and no relationship I cared more about. This is the one which has stayed with me the most of any new release I’ve seen this year and the one which most demands my return. I look forward to many future midnight viewings.

And there it is!  The list proper.  But the fun isn’t quite over yet!  Let’s take a look at a few honorable mentions and pontificate as to why they couldn't clear that last hurdle.  

Non-Stop – Liam Neeson on a plane.  I was sold just knowing that much about it.  This was a serious contender and I do believe it is fantastic lark.  It is essentially perfect up until the reveal of the perpetrator's motivations for the dastardly acts.  Normally, I can look past things like this but the reasoning was so convoluted - and frankly stupid - it brought everything down.  Still, just about everything is highly enjoyable and I expect this one to rise in coming years.

  

In the Blood – Woman loses husband in the Caribbean and goes on a rockem sockem manhunt to get him back.  Basic stuff but well done and the setting and female protagonist are quite interesting.  My incredibly unhealthy Gina Carano obsession is likely giving this one a bit more credit than it deserves though.  Actually, I'm sure it is.  

300: Rise of an Empire: This sequel takes out all the endless idiotic speeches of the first 300 which gave college guys everywhere pulsating erections before they promptly creamed their pants in their manliness while watching sweaty nearly naked men grappling with one another.  I love that guys like to watch muscly guys.  I love to do it too!   I love myself!  This movie is a thousand times better by being about 45 minutes shorter.  Lots of fast death and Eva Green chewing scenery like it was Red Man Chewing Tobacco (still America’s best chew) and being one of the best villains of the year.  In the end it was either too stupid or not stupid enough, not sure. 

Enemy/Nightcrawler: Two Jake G movies where he plays varying levels of creepy doing various creepy things.  Both held my attention and I would recommend Nightcrawler to most (Enemy to only a few).  Ultimately Nightcrawler was too contrived and shallow to advance further (his performance and the final car chase are doozies though!) and Enemy failed to rise to the artsy and pretentious greatness of something like Under the Skin.  The very final scene of Enemy did make me defecate in my trousers however and for that I doff my hat to it.  

Guardians of the Galaxy - Marvel is definitely stepping in the right direction by allowing some legitimate creativity to show through in what is arguably their best movie. I suspect this will be a one-off but that does not change this being a surprisingly enjoyable corn movie brought down by the standard Marvel formula (and formula of just about every blockbuster involving superheroes, aliens, robots, magic, vampires, hobbits and Will Smith) of the last third or so being nothing more than a giant and incredibly uninteresting CGI battle.  

Exodus: Gods and Kings: Like Noah (even with another infamous jerkface in the lead role) but a lot less weird and a lot more epic Ridley Scottish.  I loved the plagues and all the Old Testament goodies but it’s all so familiar it fades rather quickly.  

Grand Budapest Hotel – Real humorous.  Ralph and Willem do well.  Tons of wit.  Not quite sure why this one didn’t make it actually. 

Edge of Tomorrow – I always complain that big budget movies are like video games these days but this actually takes that idea to another level.  It only grows tiring when that gimmick stops.  Also, Tom Cruise terrifies me. 

John Wick - Keanu Reeves shooting a bunch of people.  Liam wasn't available?  The dog is really super cute and the action - especially the nightclub scene - is shot so cleanly with such lovely brutality.  Still, it does all get rather repetitive after a while.  Even these types of movies need to mix things up a little.  

Sin City: A Dame to Kill For: Close.  So damn close.  I’ll probably enjoy this more on subsequent viewings than I will Interstellar.  And yet!  Hmmm, not sure exactly.  Robert Rodriguez’s direction is as surefooted as ever, the actors are all game and even after so much cheap imitation the look of the film is as immersive and impressive as the first.  But it just had a little too much modern Frank Miller writing and not the glorious crap kind like in The Spirit.  

The Taking of Deborah Logan - Every year I trudge through seemingly endless amounts of godawful horror in the hopes of finding those ever elusive diamonds in the rough.  I watched this just because it had a creepy cover and I’m glad I made such a choice as it genuinely unnerved me.  Its independent origins are its strengths and its weaknesses.  Despite its creepiness there’s a bit too much cheapness on display to really make the leap to greatness.  Still a great effort though and worth seeking out for horror fans. 

Locke – Tom Hardy in a car talking on the phone for 90 minutes. One could and should not ask for anything more than this in a movie. It didn't make the top 10 because he talked too much about some things and not enough about others.  

Chef –  John Favreau wrote, directed and starred in this flick about a former restaurant chef striking out on his own and following his food oriented dreams.  This has a great cast including Sofia Vergara, John Leguizamo, Oliver Platt and Robert Downey Jr. and is great food porn and overall a fantastic movie.  Truth be told I completely forgot about it but it may have otherwise made the list proper.  It's too late to revise now though.  

Now, I don’t do any kind of “worst” or “least favorite” lists because it’s too mean spirited but I will be upfront with my Most disappointing of 2014:

Godzilla - what a piece of crap.  They should have called it Boring Ass Military Movie instead.  Contrary to what a lot of losers think, Godzilla's limited screen time isn't actually a huge problem.  There are plenty of old school G movies where he doesn't appear much until the end and there examples aplenty of classic films new and old like Jaws and The Dark Knight where central antagonists and movers and shakers like the shark and the Joker have little screen time.  But the two differences between these movies is staggeringly important: 1. Regardless of whether they are on the screen or not, the shark in Jaws and the Joker in The Dark Knight ALWAYS have their presence felt and ALWAYS feel like they are moving the story along with everyone else desperately trying to catch up, this makes for compelling drama. 2. Whether the perfect trifecta of shark hunter, police chief and ocean guy in Jaws or the cast of awesomeness in The Dark Knight the characters who are on screen a majority of the time are equally compelling, very well written and we actually give a shit about them.  Aaron Taylor-Johnson's boring ass army guy is the definition of stock incredibly dull military dude and no one else in a talented but completely wasted cast that includes Bryan Cranston, Elizabeth Olsen, Juliette Binoche and Ken Watanabe is given a damn thing to do but stare wide-eyed and do a little running.  This movie was like eating a big steaming bowl of horseshit stew washed down with a tall frosty glass of cat piss.  It broke my heart. 

And that’s it faithful readers!  Thanks for scoping this list and please feel free to comment below and tell me what an idiot I am for having such shitty taste!  Also please chime in with some of your faves and least faves.  Let’s toast to cinema too, huh?  See you soon….

Thinking about scissors too much these days

Last night I was feeling a bit randy but decided to temporarily quash my aberrant sexual desires and hitchhike on over the cinema and view a motion picture.  There were literally thousands to choose from and I stood like a bronze statue in front of the marquee for several hours rendering my decision. 

Eventually I decided upon Ridley Scott’s new swords n’ sandals epic Exodus: Gods and Kings.  I can still recall with such nostalgic joy when the movie was simply titled Exodus and all the subsequent fist clenching rage I experienced when the new title was announced. 

Buried deep within the Corinthian leather folds of my wallet I happened upon a coupon for a large bucket of hot buttered popcorn and large soft drink.  I requested extra butter on the popcorn and once the bucket was in my already greasy hands I poured on some extra salt.  I selected Pepsi cola for my large drink and the resultant combination gave me a swift and powerful stomach ache roughly halfway through the picture.  However I kept shoveling the corn into my gaping maw as it was impossible to resist.  I like going to the movies, few things bring me as much satisfaction in life.  Though I once knew a woman named Camilla who was a fry cook by day and fetishist by night with whom I had 2 standing dates scheduled during each business week with the entire arrangement lasting roughly two and one-half years.  I would request for her to wear unwashed nylons while she slaved away in the kitchen with her feet crammed into leather pumps and then I would politely ask her to relax for an hour at my place following her departure from and use my face for her footrest.  She would start by removing the pumps and placing the opening of one on my nose and laughing right at me.  Then she would knock it off and lay both of her nyloned feet on my face.  She would tell me what a loser I am and then order me to kiss them.  She would also apply a unique choke-hold with her soles and tell me that I am pathetic and completely beneath her. 

I’m not sure if it was the queasy feeling in my gut or the searing self hatred pumping through my veins but I greatly enjoyed the film!  I believe those looking for a deeply religious experience or something to nourish their faith and spirit will not find what they are looking for with this movie but I would posit that almost no biblical films (in the sense of a movie which presents a story directly from the bible) accomplish this.  Rather, I think this worked very well as a costume drama with some good Scott spectacle and action.  I also loved the final scene though it is almost at odds with everything else in its tonality.  There were plenty of flaws but nothing too egregious.  Perhaps the worst: Scott’s decision to Nolanize the movie by offering more “realistic” versions of the various plagues and miracles actually does the flick disservice by robbing it of a sense of wonder and awe. This is especially true in what should been the obvious epic bombast scene with the parting of the Red Sea which is sadly stilted.  If comparisons must be made I don’t think this will be taking the place of The Ten Commandments anytime soon but it gets a hearty thumbs up from yours truly and that’s probably all that matters!

Discussion of this film is a perfect segue to some other movie related news.  Upon returning home from the multiplex I lay down on my bourgeois sofa and began pondering the great many fallacies of my tortured existence.  From the corner of mine eye were the flashing red and green lights of the Christmas tree and all around was the tinsel and the silver garland and I had such a strong desire to consume the entire bottle of sleeping pills in the medicine cabinet and wash it down with a tall glass of white wine.  I would like my last meal to be a fresh steaming hot pizza but last night it would have been a bowl of Cap N’ Crunch (with soy milk because cows are for calves). 

I began to search madly through the internet.  Outside my home, off in the distance, a dog barked.  By happenstance I stumbled upon the newly released trailer for Terrence Malick’s latest film Knight of Cups starring none other than Christian Bale himself along with other folk like Cate Blanchet, Natalie Portman, Antonio Banderas and Wes Bentley.  It’s no secret that I am big obese Malick fan and that pretty much his entire filmography ranks in my faves.  The Thin Red Line is to date the only war movie I would say I love.  I typically hate war movies!  They are rife with bad storytelling and stock characters.  I’ll say right here that Saving Private Ryan is highly overrated.  Apocalypse Now is okay I suppose.  The Deer Hunter is fine.  There are a few others.  I feel bad now saying that …Ryan is overrated, I know a tremendous amount of work and dedication went into that film and I know many people who love it, many who worship it like a pagan god.  Anyway, I love this new trailer and I am pumped and psyched to see the movie!

Other Malick movies I love include Badlands, Days of Heaven, The New World, Tree of Life and To the Wonder.  Knight of Cups appears awfully similar in some ways to his last two movies and that is fine by me because they make me moan in ecstasy.  Those who are fanatics about my blog will recall my beloved friend Calvin Black.  Years ago his parents viewed the film The New World and savagely despised it.  To my knowledge Black himself never viewed it and it really was not something that came up much in conversation.  I respect the Black family’s opinion wholeheartedly and one of the most joyous things of cinema – indeed, of any art form – is the difference of opinion and spirited debate!  I will say The New World was badly mismarketed and portrayed a very different type of movie.  Sometimes I fall asleep with a copy of The New World clasped tightly to my bosom.  I recall watching an episode of 60 Minutes which had a segment on Nigella Lawson.  When asked why she thought men liked her (more specifically, some of the men who watch her programs but have no interest in cooking) the first thing she said was “my bosom”.  I love Nigella but I’m not entirely sure if my love is linked so directly to her bosom.  Maybe my memory is deceiving me and she didn’t say that at all and if so then I wish to offer a sincere apology.  I’ve been a fan of hers for years and I suspect I will be until the long overdue day of my death!

Also, if any of you dear readers have partook in a session with Lady Milady please respond in the comments below and let me know the particulars and your overall level of satisfaction.  I’ve developed quite an unhealthy fixation and before I empty my Swiss bank accounts and travel around the world I want to know if she is the right girl.  Thought I desperately hope this is the case. 

You liked my comment

I feel my excitement and fondness of big splash blockbustery type movies is fading into a dark oblivion.  I cannot recall a single movie of this type from this year that I truly loved; there were only a couple I actually even enjoyed.  I find it increasingly difficult to glean any meaning from them and most often when I leave the theatre I leave with a feeling of emptiness bordering on despair.  Am I simply becoming more of a snob?  Perhaps.  It astonishes me now when people see a movie like the Hobbit or Hunger Games or Avengers and declare it the best movie they have ever seen.  Still, those are all well made flicks (I suppose) and I do believe there is genuine passion behind many of the people involved (maybe).  So why do they all feel so hollow now?  Just so much polished product for the masses with nothing to offer but surface thrills. 

What has happened to me?  I think my love for this type of movie died with 2012’s The Dark Knight Rises or 2013’s Man of Steel.  It would be more poetic to conclude it was the former but probably more accurate to go with the latter.  Even more accurate still I could say the summer of 2013 had a trifecta of big giant tentpole movies that disappointed on some level: the aforementioned Man of Steel, Star Trek Into Darkness and Iron Man 3.  Plus, in winter there was the bonus of the second Hobbit movie in Peter Jackson’s endless adaptation.  I’m actually a bit surprised he didn’t split the upcoming third movie into two parts.  I just can’t do it anymore. 

See, all this time I’ve been thinking my overall lack of enthusiasm or hope for the upcoming stupidly titled Batman v. Superman: Dawn of Justice was due to a lack of faith in Warner Bros/DC to successfully launch a sustained comic-on-film universe but I realize this is not the case.  It’s true that I do not believe in them anymore after so many botches and it would not surprise me at all if BVSDOJ is crap (and I predict it will be embarrassingly outperformed by Marvel’s Captain America 3 just a little over a month later) and that goes for the recently announced Suicide Squad and all the other upcoming movies on their slate.  I want to believe they can and will be good – even great! – but I am unable. 

But that alone would not quash my enthusiasm so violently for there have been plenty of movies I’ve greatly anticipated where their quality was always in question.  No, I realize my lack of enthusiasm is simply because I no longer respond to this type of movie.  They no longer thrill me.  They no longer move me.  It’s hard to say if I would even be able to truly recognize a “good” one from a “bad” and almost impossible to say why I no longer enjoy the big giant multizillion dollar movies.  Has there been an overall decline in quality these past few years that has drained away my passion?  Or have my life experiences changed me sufficiently to where I’ve simply, and not condescendingly, “outgrown” them?  Maybe I once needed them and now I do not.  Or maybe it’s something else entirely. I do feel slightly sad that I no longer enjoy these movies as in the past.  I will surely still watch all of them which seems a tad strange.  Maybe one day my enjoyment will return, maybe stronger than ever! 

I had a wonderfully aromatic erotic dream this morning, excellent color and denier and perfume of the gods. 

The newest episode of Lucha Underground aired last night but I’ve yet to have the good fortune of viewing it.  This is partially due to my being exceptionally busy these last couple nights, reviewing ledgers and analyzing current investments as well as new prospects.  Yet it is more due to the fact that as previously mentioned I do not receive the El Rey network and as such I will be unable to view this episode until it re-airs this Saturday on Unimas.  However I did hear that it was a corker of an installment and I greatly look forward to this hour of television.  I’ve often dreamed about starting my own wrestling federation.  Who knows if I will ever go through with it?  Back in 8^th grade I met a girl who I swore I would love for all my life and I broke that vow.  From an early age I established a toxic reputation of breaking promises and not going through with things and this has put the value of word in the proverbial dump.  I am about as undependable a guy as you will ever have the misfortune of meeting. 

I find that I know less and less about who I am or who anyone else is.  I’m not sure how to be honest anymore.  I tell so many lies to so many people on a daily basis that it is now an entirely natural, utterly inescapable thing.  There are so many instances where there is no reason whatsoever to lie but I do it anyway and I have no idea why.  I must confess that for some time now – I would say the better part of 2 years – I have been taking something that is absolutely not good for me.  I tried it once because I was looking for something new.  The first time I was not impressed at all so I do not know why I tried it a second time but I did.  The second time I was also unimpressed and I understand even less why I tried it a third time but I did.  The third time did it.  I was hooked and I could not get enough.  From the moment I woke up to when I left work or at any given time on the weekend I wanted more.  My thoughts, desires, motivations and ambitions were subservient.  I have tried to quit on several occasions but I always fail.  I believe the longest I was able to last was a period of 3 weeks.  As stated it has already eroded away at my spiritual core and it is beginning to take its inevitable toll on my relationships.  Two years putting this inside myself and I want it now more than ever.  No one knows about it because I lie to everyone.  I will likely continue to lie until I hit rock bottom and probably afterward as well.   

Thank you Marcela, it was the only time I felt good today. 

Need your hold items

Client called and reported that he is going to be living in a trash can and eating large quantities of reconstituted soybean extract for the foreseeable future.  I told him we depend on his fencing skills and still we give him only hogs and applesauce with which to survive and thrive.  I then proceeded to put on a cheap brown suit and stupid hat and waxed poetic about the president and the problems in Kosovo, so stringent are my political ties it was difficult for me to haul my behind out of bed this mornin' but I did so that I could eat a big helpin' of ma's pork and beans. 

In my Americanmobile we’ll drive away.

Worry not, everything is okay

Those were the first two lines to a song I wrote while I was a sophomore in my high school.  I never forgot them as they were to be one half of the infectious chorus on what was sure to be a crossover pop rock smash in the vein of Hootie and the Blowfish or Dave Matthews Band.  I believe I wrote those lyrics whilst in physics class. A fellow student had erotic fantasies about the physics teacher but I never shared his desires.  Mostly I just thought about baseball at that age.  Ever since I was a child all I’ve ever really wanted to do is play major league baseball. 

B.C. has never been one of my favorite comic strips. Something about the artwork prevents my conversion into a hardcore borderline schizophrenic fan.  Yet what am I to make about B.C.’s recent comments to the press?  That is a truly a pickle wrapped inside the belly of a conundrum.  On the one hairy hand I must completely concur with his statements and yet I cannot deny how they incite me to anger.  I love the word cholesterol.  Sometimes I spend hours sitting on an old wooden stool doing nothing but repeating this word.  Sometimes I even say it with an elegant British accent to please all my European fans out there.  I love Eurotrash villains in movies.  I also love European dance music, real electronic shit.  I’m talking about the dizzying, amazing stuff that was most popular at the turn of the century.  When I look back upon my time in Spain at the millennium it is the dance clubs and the sheer sugar rush of that music which I most remember.  Of course, I also recall walking home at 3:45 in the AM and being savagely mugged and left to die in an alley.  All I could think about was the loaf of bread I’d left baking back in my home in the States.  I vowed that were I to survive I would eat half that loaf with real butter and the other half with boysenberry jam.  I survived but I inevitably broke that promise to myself as I break all my promises. 

People tell me I look like I’ve been working out lately and I tell them it’s all in the jeans.  The jeans and the extensive Muay Thai training I’ve been receiving down at Smitty’s Gym.  Martial arts have always been passion.

Did you once tell me there would never be any other?  Was that before or after I drew purple swans on a dry erase board. Ah, but the dark truth of the matter is that I did not draw those swans at all.  It was actually a secret double agent of the Soviet government who was/is hellbent on learning all the secrets locked away in the dusty corridors of the inner hallways of the gregarious mansion residing on the dangerous and dark street located in the aristocratic neighborhood in the snooty suburb of the sprawling metropolitan city of the future in the corrupt and northwestern county of the fiscally hemorrhaging red state of the glorious and cantankerous country located in the ancient and nigh otherworldly continent positioned between two supremely wet and glistening oceans that fill up a substantial percentage of the dying planet in the far off solar system of my brain.  They forced lumpy oatmeal down my throat but I never said a word.  I refused to squeal.  I’m too loyal to Blue Glyph Motors, the highly successful engineering enterprise I coincidentally founded while a sophomore in high school. 

I think I have just discovered a strange and wonderful new thing: nylons and oatmeal. Hosiery and oatmeal.  Right now at this current juncture in my life I can think of nothing greater.  Nylons and oatmeal.  Just those two words together provide such joy and splendor.  I must explore.  Scissors too.  Please wear the turquoise heels. 

I didn’t take the drug but I’m still feeling the side effects.  Its one of the many consequences of being a sensitive man like yours falsely.  Do you remember all those times I was wrongly accused of murder?  How about that time Jack raped Jill and they tried to pin it on Peter?  I swore then I would never fall victim to their dogmatic persecutions.  Why did you decide to film my death scene on vinyl record?  You should have known your desires with that technological format would simply not be compatible.  I tried to warn you but you always think you’re so damn smart.  You’re smarter than me, that’s for sure.  I bow to you superior wisdom.  If I were you I would never wish to be me even if a sorcerer offered me 6 delicious pink cupcakes if I allowed him to perform the spell that would switch us places.  I see you running up a hill right now. 

You lost all your hair in Vaseline related accidents. Then you lost all your care in trampoline related abstinence.  I was there and watched it all from a birdlike perch.    

I don’t want to listen to the message.  I am so afraid.  Please be okay.  Let it all not drown. I was not born for this.  What has happened to everything?  Why is everything nothing and my words are like fine toothed combs and your face is like a snowman melting all over the bodies of murdered milkmen. 

Languages escape from the knees and elbows of a thousand athletic men.  You never ventured to the lands we once called foam.  I’ll bathe in liquid paper only when the world decides to return my phone calls.  Who are you to judge that which you know everything about?  Please donate 57 million dollars and in return I will give you vulcanized rubber.  Let’s pave the streets with the physical manifestation of our collective failures!  Texas Instruments may indeed make the best calculators but they’re still second to the giant Wheel of Death inside my brain!

I can’t escape from what I’ve done.  I cannot believe any of this.  There is too much Ritz crackers in the world for any of my lies to actually be truth.  I have lived too long inside the belly of a whale.  You’re going to have to perform some type of half ass autopsy on a fish.  Did you ever think it would come to this?  We fly even though there is no one standing beneath us to shine blinding light into our eyes.  I will have my vengeance hahahahahahahahahah!

I should have taken the chocolate

O (Part 5 of 10)

May I please walk with you?  Exhausted is the new purple.  I'm not quite sure what I mean by that but I think I have an idea.  I feel so much love for you, so much desire and faith and connection.  Every morning I seek you out in desperation and fear and every night once more that I may feel some tenderness and hear your voice.  Temptation gets the better of me every day.  Using clichés such as those does not provide me with any sort of pleasure.  

I asked you once if you were Catholic and you said yes.  You whispered a melody to me and now I cannot get it out of my head.  I've wondered what sins you confess when asking for forgiveness.  Were you bitter last time?  What a selfish and awful thought.  Even when I am deep in the throes of desire and surrendering to these obsessions I feel so close and my body contorts and I bite my tongue until I draw blood and I lay naked covered in sweat and my head starts to hurt.  Tears always well up in my eyes when I think of you.  

All these questions, you're the victim, I'm the whore.  

I have such fucking style.  They tried to send me to back of the train but I refused.  That was another version of me that said this.  A version bristling with confidence and barely contained sexuality.  This version is almost entirely illusory but it is a delightful fantasy that sometimes pops into my head in these crucial moments.  

Somewhere I can heal someone yelling the word "bastard" and saying how impure I am and that they are going to kill me.  

I often go with the first impulse but rarely is that correct.  There were times I thought to read her.  I have a sneaking suspicion these memories are not my home.  I feel sick and wonder what is happening to me.  I do not believe one night would be sufficient but what a fantastic romanticized thought.  And then such bracing feelings of negativity and pure fierce hatred.  I don't understand anything and I wish it stays this way.  Why did you ask if I was okay?  That was such a beautiful moment.  Twice it was so beautiful and I know it will never repeat itself again.  I destroyed too much because that was all I knew how to do.  

And still I wake up and plead for forgiveness.  I grab hold and refuse to let go.  It's like I've died before.  And I learned how to come back again.  Oh no, I'm lost again.  You think that I'm a friend; I wander empty hallways and scream out names.  I bang the walls and scream again and I bloody pretty faces.  Up in the air is a castle I imagined I could reach but this was never true.  There has never been a proper time to tell you.  Every word exhausts me.  Will you tell me it will be okay?  I think I would believe it if it came from you.  Blue and black, I am always lost in these, over and over again.  

I'm not trying to revive myself; I've spent it all before.  Stars grandstand and swear so much each night.  I fail to see the humor in things.  It's like you've already killed again.  You're the greatest thing.  

I don’t convince anymore when I am in groups.  My face betrays me.  

I run through the stations, screaming and fleeing back and forth and wondering what truth I have found in all these different worlds and what sweet brainwashing have I allowed.  You click your tongue and then I taste your skin and the light hurts my eyes.  There is so much energy surging straight for the center and the swelling sound of an orchestra.  Fucking abandon everything.  Why did you put that thought into my brain?  I know you didn't.  I put it there.  I have confused you with so many throughout history.  Are you somehow all of them at once?  Why do your eyes still strangle me?  

I look for signs and I hear voices inside.  You are slowly driving me insane and I am deathly afraid of what I keep seeing from the corner of my eye.  There is such loving humiliation in those hours.  You hold my hand right until the end.  These moments are all disparate.  Teach me to walk.  

I see this beauty and I fall to my knees and I reach and fail to grasp.  I live inside a lie.  I can't trust any words from my mouth.  I thrust myself against the rights of no one.  I am waltzing with a strange deformed figure.  What are these things to left and right of me?  I acknowledge all these faults and it changes nothing.    

You tell me nothing frightens you anymore.  Lover.  Everyone I see is you.

I can't fit all the words into the space you've given me.  Nothing makes any fucking sense.  I can't fucking think.  It's like my thoughts have burned inside your mind.  You've called me a slut.  I can't wait to try.  I can't stand outside in the snow anymore.  I've never been to this city inside

us.  

There are floods and people melting and exploding suns.  I am in ecstasy then screaming as my personality is melted away.  You have given me life.  You're making me dream.  I stick my hands inside.  Does it matter if it was written down or if it just appeared?  

I can't say you're good.  We make love to frightening things.  Your hope has turned to liquid and I drink it and I can feel the warmth in my chest.  There is no reason to pretend anymore.  Words have been dropped inside.  They're going to bring a knife to bed.  Everything is what I like.  

It’s like divinity inside my skull.  Trapped inside an atomic bomb with only a deck of cards, everything has adorned its loss.  I see your face across a field of grey.  

You changed the blue

I’ve tapped into a new universal language filled with exciting and startling truths.  I’ve pierced through the veil of chicanery to see the stark dying dreams underneath. I have smelled their festering corpses and gazed into their milky desperate eyes.  I laugh at all the explosive sex going on around me.  I have never felt so alive as when I was this close to sweet impartial death.

So will it be Eddie or Michael?  Or will there be a victory by someone more unexpected?  I have lived my life in the shadows, always saying that I don’t give a damn about such nonsense.  And yet I must admit to feeling a certain sense of yearning for this victory to be realized.  It would be a lifetime of love and devotion somehow brought to the forefront of things in a way I never imagined.  I can’t say “validation”, that’s not right.  You deserve it.  I believe in you.  I love you.

I watched the move Live from Baghdad last night (I’ve seen it before) and then promptly had an in-depth discussion on the various socio-economic effects of the Gulf War with my viewing buddy.  The conversation lasted for roughly 90 minutes during which time I had 3 glasses of white wine.  Afterward I retired to my posh flat and inserted a Blu-ray copy of Samson & Delilah in my Playstation 3 and rested on my bourgeois sofa.  Regrettably I fell asleep during the overture and my dreams were haunted with compromise and uncertainty. 

I recently purchased David Bowie’s new 3 disc retrospective slash best-of slash hits compilation Nothing Has Changed. 

I was crying while I took Polaroid photographs of myself.  I had been drinking that night but only to forget what I’d done the previous nights.  I was laying down on the pool table and making strange faces and taking these photographs and I began to wonder why I do not understand anyone.  Wouldn’t it be lovely if they would all leave me alone? 

I keep seeing myself drowning in an endless expanse of black water.  I can hear music playing and the words are Greek and so beautiful.  It is a very peaceful thought and one which provides me with a great deal of comfort. 

I met a man in the book store today who rambled on about suing the courts.  He was also worried about a potential drought or maybe it was a flood, I was not exactly sure.  He walked by me several times and I considered committing a random act of explosive violence against him but I ultimately decided against this.  There was a new person working the customer service desk and she was quite comely and I requested her help in ordering a book about Wall Street.  I wanted to compliment her but did not know her.  She was a wearing a sweater and a cute pleated skirt with dark stockings and I was surely a creep for noticing.  

We are all caught in a big fucking web.  I turn things on and I don't know how to turn them off again.  I ventured into a plane of thought where there may be no escape.  It was so delicious.  I think I did this before I fell asleep and then again as I was driving.  It was the old familiar fantasy of unbuckling my seatbelt, flooring the gas pedal like SpongeBob Squarepants and slamming the vehicle into a nearby conveniently placed brick wall where I would then be unceremoniously ejected from the car and splatter my brains all over the concrete.  

I am crying while I type this and I have an action movie on in the foreground - Rumble in the Bronx - and I feel slightly nauseous because I drank too much of various things and I am also listening The Time's last album on headphones.  I have the heater of my posh flat turned on as well as a fan which is pointed right next to my head and on the maximum speed.  This makes me giggle.  

Sometimes when I imagine myself lying there dead or dying on the pavement I wonder who may coincidentally drive by at that very moment of my bloody expiration and recognize my vehicle, exit their own and perhaps bear witness to my final moments in this life.  Sometimes I imagine it is you and you are holding my hand and even through the impossible-to-mask look of horror on your face I can still see the beauty and the love and the tenderness.  Oh sweet finality.  

I know things are doing thing inside my head and deep in my brain and I've asked everyone for help in the only ways I know how but no one does anything because no one cares and no one wants to listen.  I have a sneaking and terrifying suspicion that we are all headed to the same place and I don't know why I am the only one who has been cursed with this knowledge and awareness.  I can say that you are all in for a serious surprise.  

The mixed tag team main event between Chavo Guerrero Jr. & Pentagon Jr. against Sexy Star and Fenix on this past week's episode of Lucha Underground was truly spectacular.  El Rey's wrestling program has been of consistently high quality in these initial episodes and it actually seems to be improving week after week.  I was initially saddened that it was only going to be an hour long show - I am used to wrestling programs clocking in at 2 hours - but this actually seems to work in its favor as it eliminates almost all extraneous material and makes each episode a lean hard-hitting jolt of pure lucha (and I stress that last word as the high-flying spots here are spectacular and seem to come every few seconds) action.  The "backstage" footage is equally well done, taking on an almost novela style production on building the storylines and character histories/motivations.  Essentially these qualities almost make it a polar opposite of WWE's Monday Night Raw which sometimes feels like 3 endless hours of 90% hackneyed backstage crap and asinine stunts and 10% wrestling.   So far, Lucha Underground is giving me the perfect mix of storylines and wrestling.  

Regarding this particular match: I am not the biggest fan of inter-gender matches as they are sometimes exploitative (though in other circumstances I have no such issues with this) or unconvincing however this match featured none of these problems.  It helps greatly that the show has been building up this rivalry and that Guerrero Jr. and Pentagon Jr. are doing such great work as the heels.  Fenix is also a top talent and he Sexy Star have fine chemistry and work quite well together.  The match had beautiful flow, I can't think of any spots that were seriously botched and it was easy to be engaged in this battle.  

My only quibble: Having watched Sexy Star through AAA over the years I know she is capable of more than these inter-gender matches allow her to display.  It’s the flipside of my trepidation of such matches as to be able to really sell them she is holding back a bit.  My hope is that Lucha Underground will recruit more Luchadoras than they currently have and build their women's division to allow Sexy Star to have a rivalry where she can really unleash her talent.  One never knows how long this type of program may last but if it keeps up this quality I will stay with it til’ the bitter end!  Here's hoping there is a digital video disc release that I may hold a Lucha Underground marathon party and invite all my nonexistent friends!

Here is a list of folks we are processing:

2 coffees and an O.J.

I cried while driving to work this morning.  I was listening to the song Spotlight by Shakira and driving the same route I take every miserable workday and I simply burst into tears.  One would think the edge would have worn off by now but it still hurts just as much every time I’m faced with the utter meaninglessness of my life.  I wish I could find meaning and satisfaction in all the irrelevant daily bullshit as so many of my contemporaries are able to find but I was not blessed with their capacity for happiness.  I once knew a man who lived entirely to make as much money as he could.  He seemed quite miserable but the funny thing was I don’t think he actually realized he was dreadfully unhappy.  All the same he existed in a world void of WHATEVER….  When faced with his particular brand of ugly part of me wished to lash out quite violently in an act of revolted extermination.  The other part of me only wished to run away and never have any sort of contact with this man again.

During the peak morning hours I put on Marvin Gaye’s amazing classic beautiful perfect 2002 album What’s Going On (the lack of question mark in the title is a key to the record’s themes which occasionally gets overlooked, suffice it to say this work has lost none of its relevancy or potency over the years).  However I removed the disc when I realized it was much better suited to evenings and dead of nights (late afternoons at the absolute earliest) than mornings.  That is no fault of the artist nor is it an indictment of the music itself.  But What’s Going On is an album that begs to be listened in the dark hours, either on busy roads in taxi cabs with swarms of city lights blurring bye or in RUSTIC bars where the air is thick and where the clientale all have a tortured tail 2 drinks away from being told or in the privacy of one’s home, curled up with a glass of wine, love optional.   There was a period in my life where I listened to this album on a nightly basis, often more than once and even now it is difficult to imagine more than a week going by without this music gracing my waxy earholes. 

Instead I slapped on the YEAR album Up! By Shania Twain.  This might seem like a jarring change to some but it made perfect sense to me and I think pundits will look back on it as a masterful move in the overall chess game of life.  Up! is quite simply a pop masterpiece and its central conceit – the album comes with 2 discs featuring the same 19 songs but with one featuring more country instrumentation and the other pop instrumentation – was and is a gaudy and audacious production choice that continues to fascinate and reward on repeated listening all these many years later.  Honestly, just listen to the first single IM GONNA GETCHA GOOD and marvel at that perfect thick slice of pop perfection. 

I recently purchased new copies of Pearl Jam’s YEAR and YEAR albums Yield and Binaural.  I’ve owned these albums for a massive chunk of my miserable life and I’ve listened to them countless times and it precisely this passionate and dedicated listening which resulted in their physical manifestations ceasing to function and necessitating that I work overtime in order to afford new copies.  These albums – indeed, damn near the entirety of the group’s principal discography along with a very healthy slice of their always excellent live “bootlegs” – have helped me through some very trying times and basically enriched so many of the ups and downs of my peculiar and tortured existence over the years.  When I’ve rejoiced they were there alongside me and when I despaired they held me and we wept together.  If I could only listen to one Jam release for the rest of my increasingly dark days I would almost certainly pick one of their live recordings but were I forced to choose my favorite of their proper albums there is an extremely decent chance I would select Yield.  The last five songs on there are about the most perfect sequence of tunes a guy like me can imagine. 

My desires and dreams are exactly the same as countless people who came before me.  I do not wish for anything unique at all for my life.  At the same time I do as little as possible to accomplish these lackluster, worthless shoals.  I don’t truly want the love of a cheeseburger – the fact that I literally do nothing to find it and let it go as something useless on the rare occasions it falls into my hands are testament to this – but the idea of a cheeseburger somehow being crucial coupled with my having witnessed this dynamic in so many others makes me think it is something I want and perhaps something crucial to my having a “successful” life. 

I ate expired yogurt this morning.  It made me feel like a real man for once in my life.  I think there’s going to be another war.  There were two old guys talking on the beach while not fifteen yards away a bird was pecking at the carcass of another bird.  They happened upon the house that Jack built and from there recounted their sordid tale, in so much as it could be recounted under those highly secretive and highly extenuating circumstances.  A painter’s psychic visions have continued to haunt me these recent years. 

I very recently saw the movie John Wick. 

I recently watched the movie Interstellar.

I also watched the movie Birdman at some point in time. 

Jonathan had control of the faith sector.  I think I remember who the writer was but I would have to triple check to be sure.  I keep seeing that figure cloaked in red from the corner of my eye.  I have nearly fallen into the canal on several occasions.  The act in the bedroom may have seemed simulated but it was not. 

Was there someone in my house last night?  How did you get inside my house?  I sing to myself while sitting in my office.  Things walk by and it’s hard to recognize them.  I think I’m losing control but then a tiny but insistent voice always reminds me that I never actually had control to begin with.  I think for lunch I’ll eat a pastrami on rye sandwich with some mayonnaise and mustard.  There are chromatic swans clouding my vision. 

I always pretend it’s you.  Sometimes it almost works. 

I love absolute zero

Hey I just met you.  This is fucking psychotic.  But here’s my hand in marriage.  Call me neurotic.  That’s what I would say to her if only I could.  If only I had the guts. 

If I could I would fill a giant vat with waffle batter and then jump into it, letting warm, thick and smooth batter caress every inch of my body.  I can imagine few things as pleasurable as that.

I was as shocked as anyone to find that I’ve become a massive fan of the Counting Crows.  In the past month or so I’ve purchased four of their albums, including their newest release.  Maybe it’s age catching up to me.  Suddenly Duritz’s words are hitting me deep and making me reconsider everything I once thought to be true.  Their records speak to me!  I love them!

People are always asking me why I don’t watch more television and I always tell them I find it to be a heartbreaking medium where even the best and most promising programs often devolve into cheap stunts, progressively rote characters and needlessly extended storytelling.  That’s just one man’s humble opinion of course.  I strongly suspect one day I will become an avid TV zombie and catch up on all the shows everyone in the entire world has raving about for these past two decades. 

However one recent show I absolutely could not resist watching no matter how hard I tried was The Flash which premiered some 5 weeks ago on America’s favorite CW network.  Those who know me best know of my deep seated love for the scarlet speedster and that he is second only to a couple dozen other characters in the pantheon of my all-time-favorites.  I was happy that this particular incarnation was spinning off the show Arrow as I had found that show to be of a high and consistent quality in providing very satisfactory superheroic romps on a weekly basis. 

So with a potent mixture of mind shattering terror and giddy anticipation I watched The Flash and have found that I’m enjoying it to a dangerously high level.  The tone is perfect for the character and his adventures and I feel the creators have really nailed the heart of his mythology. All the teases and Easter eggs and the near certainty of Zoom presenting himself have filled me with girlish glee and I genuinely look forward to each new installment.  Last week’s episode introduced Captain Cold – one of my all time favorite villains – played by Prison Break’s Wentworth Miller and he was written and portrayed to icy perfection and set up to return throughout the season.  The episode itself was titled Going Rogue and that alone was enough to make me weep with crocodile tears of joy and ensure that I will stay with this series for the long haul. 

Regarding American Horror Story, lots of folks have been commenting on Twisty the Clown (played by John Carroll Lynch) and how scary he is so I watched an episode and was disappointed as ever.  He looks hip and is a great visual but is not scary in any way.  I so want to like American Horror Story and I’ve seen several episodes from various seasons but it always seems to be trying too hard and still coming up short.  The situations, acting, atmosphere and effects feel very much to me like what a child might find frightening and I am often reminded of the Goosebumps series of books.  It is a very safe brand of horror and horror should never be safe.  What the hell do I know though?  It’s wildly popular.  I did like when Jessica Lange sang the David Bowie song Life on Mars in a recent episode because that is one of my all time favorite tunes.  Maybe if every episode featured a Bowie song I would like it more.   

My dream of seeing all Mark Rothko’s paintings in person is one step closer to completion after a recent trip to the amazing Walker Art Center in Minneapolis, Minnesota and standing mere inches away from Rothko’s 1953 painting Untitled.  This is a truly beautiful piece of work and seeing it – swimming inside its color and being devoured by its heart – was an honor.  This also happens to be the first one I’ve seen in person so the projected completion of my dream is still quite a ways away.  Still, my passion is equal to the task. 

Naysayers are predicting I’ll die before my quest is complete but I plan to prove all of them wrong.  I plan to see them all dead and buried and then I will promptly perform a jig on their graves and laugh all the way to the bank where I will open up a joint checking account with my long lost twin brother.  I would like to plan trips to Houston, Texas to visit the Rothko Chapel as well as New York, New York to visit the Museum of Modern Art as they both house several of Rothko’s paintings and my checklist would be able to amass quite a few more checks.  If anyone is interested in making donations for these trips please let me know.  Who knows?  Perhaps I would able to assist in fulfilling one of your dreams as well….

I thought the green dress shirt I put on today after showering and shaving was clean but I may have been in error.  I have smelled myself all day and have not much liked what I’ve smelt.  I also ate yogurt this morning for what it’s worth. 

Next I plan to tame the beast and watch him fall.  Love conquers all.  I remember vividly a summer in my formative years when I was madly in love with Lynda Carter.  Although even now I’m still not sure if I was in love with her or with Wonder Woman.  Even that is a bit of a puzzler because it would be difficult – maybe even impossible – to further deduce whether I was in love with Wonder Woman or with the Lynda Carter actualization/version/interpretation of Wonder Woman.  Where does one end and the other begin?  Am I even able to separate the two as distinct entities in my tortured mind?  Carter’s Wonder Woman is still definitive and a glorious take on the character.  DC recently announced a new comic series which would feature further adventures of that specific iteration of the character (similar to their successful Batman 66’ series which are adventures of the Adam West and Burt Ward version of Batman and Robin) and I am pleased as punch by this.  But nothing will ever replace the real thing.  She’s the real thing.  Even better than the real thing. 

The Old Testament of the Bible is very interesting.  I need to read more of it and conduct copious amounts of research to increase my understanding.  

Right under my nose new albums were released by Los Tigres del Norte and Elida y Avante.  I was a fool not to realize this sooner.  So many things have been escaping my notice recently.  Today I will hitchhike to a local Mom & Pop (or is it Ma & Pa?) style store to purchase both albums.  Then I will listen to them and reflect on the truly meaningful life I almost had.  Both great bands.  I’ve seen Elida twice now and Los Tigres zero times.  I would love to see either of them again. 

I’ve been thinking of buying an upright bass (or double bass if you prefer) but I probably won’t.  I don’t have any of the skills necessary to play one.  But I imagine it being a very satisfying instrument.  Like water through a sieve. 

I recently started reading a new book.

O (Part 4 of 10)

This is the end.  In those final moments I am able to learn so much.  Where did this boldness come from?  Did anyone forget about anyone else?  I don't believe it is possible that such luck exists.  But in the end you understand the awful truth behind it all.  You understood but you'd found a way to beat it at its own game.  You pierced through all the lies and found meaning where there should have been none.  

You touched me just once and I felt such love and desire and pure ecstasy that my body began to twist and contort and I started grinding my teeth and I wanted to scream at the sheer joy I was feeling, my soul was in a state of rapture and your light was passing through me and I breathed it into my lungs and submitted my entire body to it and I was bleeding and it felt wonderful and I was twisting and trying to reach out once more and you started to sing and my eyes were unable to stay open as pleasure erupted through my every nerve and rational thought become impossible. 

Somewhere there are teacups shattering and two men kissing and everything imaginary is wonderful and I desperately wish I could stay inside my mind.  I know you speak to me at night while I am dreaming and I always look for you in those moments.  But so often that euphoria is forgotten, taken from me by the cruel morning. Where is all this domestic joy?  Why I only receive illusions in exchange for my trouble? 

I saw your radiance while in the park where you cradled life in your arms.  I laughed at my pretensions.  What if I confessed that every time I look out that shared window into the streets I imagine stepping in front of any oncoming truck in the hopes of a swift demise?  What would you tell me if I expressed that?  For two straight hours this morning I did nothing but beg for your forgiveness.  I heard echoes of your fallen tears from so many years ago.  I saw statues made of gold and briefly I was able to traverse all those dreams you once had which never came true. 

I have realized that indifference is the most awful thing.  This entire confession - every single word I have ever written or ever will write - is utterly meaningless.  There is a picture in my room and I am able to going inside and enter a new planet that has orange skies and the ground beneath my feet is made of glass and stretches out untold miles in every direction.  I can feel electricity in the air around me and my whole body pulses with its current.  Sometimes while I'm there I fall down on my knees and put my hands on my head and my temples feel like they are being drilled into and all I can do is scream and I want to break the glass beneath me and see where it is I would fall.  I crash again and again and I beg your forgiveness, I beg both of you for forgiveness and you both have heard my cries and I wonder when I will run out of second chances.  You should have thrown me out and left me there.  Why didn't you just leave me there?   

Your lights paint the landscape for me in shades of purple and blue and pink.  I see you step out into the rain and when it is dark you wrap your arms around me and tell me everything is going to be okay and I close my eyes and it feels so good and like I don't even exist.  For a few fleeting seconds I am completely absent from this or any world and it is complete bliss for everyone.  Then I am back but I am still with you and the tide is coming in and I hang on to your robe and I am crying and you have your hand on me but you don't say anything at first.  The colors in your eyes change every second.  

All those letters we wrote however many years ago are just mountains of words I’m throwing into the fire.  I have burned everything away a thousand times before but it always comes back.  Every time I promise myself I won’t read them again but my heart is a liar.  There was such hope in those words and somehow I am able to feel it all over again.  But inevitably I keep reading to the end.  All I can ever find is emptiness. 

There were vanishing angels and you spoke in language I had never heard before.  It was soft and melodic and I imagined you there at the end of everything.  Sometimes we’re sitting at a table together and sipping wine and talking.  The sun is setting and the ocean is nearby and the night promises everything.  There is nowhere I would rather be.  Other times we are alone and I am always on my knees.  Have you ever been truly blessed with freedom?  Do either one of us know what fulfillment feels like? 

I realize this is all so ugly.  It would be far better for there to be glass between us.  Everyone knows someone like me.  There is a network and they all pass this information along as they should.  

Most of all I recall in this final moment truly feeling as though you cared.  You said it not once but many times and I would have gladly made a fool of myself for the rest of my days if that was to be my reward.  I see you in white with a red flower in your hair and even as my life slips away I am able to leave in peace.  

You will see every one of them with me and at the next millennium we will be dancing together.

He says this is the end but he knows he'll be back again.