the next one spoke of torture

  Man follows her home.  Just another day in this shitty place.  Don’t make me laugh with any explanations.  All those hoping that there exists a chance for redemption are going to walk away very very distraught.  

Still desperately looking for meaning anywhere.  What are those chants?  I don’t know who is truly saved anymore. I keep falling down stairs.  Tumbling and tumbling.  I’ve been missing out, the idiocy is far stronger than normal these wretched days.  

The Star two nights ago, was that not one of the greatest things ever?  Dear God, what is happening to me?!  But it was amazing.  Holy shit, as they say!  You deserve it!  Beautiful storytelling.  

I’m far more excited for Latina than Lemonade (no knock on Lemonade though) but I hope to give them both proper attention.  I’m so useless (just do it already). 

Fuck, why is everything so ugly now?  Inside and outside, how can we digest all this shit?  This must be what we deserve.  No doubt about that.  Foul foul things. 

Fish people, it all makes sense now.  He was right.  And I can’t seem to stop crying.  Perhaps another drink will help.  A profanation of the symbols of purity.  How appropriate.  How do we look at each other anymore?  What is this thing existing?  We’re just trying to scrub the black oil off.  

It is highly likely nothing is ever going to be okay ever again.
(Why don’t you just do it?)

New era and all that.  I suppose at some point everything old has to become new again.  how trite indeed.  the window is open and there is a nice breeze coming through. I feel like I’m right there at the bar even though I’m here at home.  I’m not quite ready for anything and that’s as true a statement has ever been uttered by me.  Perhaps I’m mostly upset because I can’t seem to locate a dvd copy of The Vampire and the Ballerina.  Such a beautiful film.  Make me cry.  Nets.  Or perhaps it has more to do with the fact that I’m an utter fucking failure.  Either or I guess.  Still slave to denier.  Don’t suppose there’s anything I’ll ever be able to do about that.  or is there?  

Having lived that – if only for an all too brief time – I can say it does evoke that feeling so….  Hug heart.  That is perhaps the secret which brings it all together.  Jim you might say.  And he Waits but it was the highest at the time.  so much chatter.  Don’t know who can be abandoned now.  That last thought is at least separate form everything else.  You have to ask your self sometimes what is intentional and what isn’t.  

Another day, another sign.  All similarities after a while.  Are they looking too hard.  Manifest destiny and all that.  still so hard, even in the dead of everything, to come up with anything.  I guess nothing makes sense.  Though I know it doesn’t really matter.  Never any decisive action.  Things keep going on.  Lets just throw some eels into it.  what kind of…if….

I’ll be fine I’ll be fine I’ll be fine hahahahahahaha
Let’s just serve it all up one big chopping block
I twitch and convulse everytime you….
Honestly, can anyone really understand anyone else anymore?

Too long and too comfortable inside a crucible.  Always that third type of person.  That does seem to make sense.  And change.  Set em up.  hating self so much.  I think we’re all out of the good times.  Nice deterioration.  No need to ask permission for any of these things, there are no keys.  It’s alive for now.  

Oopies. That is what you always said.  Just a bit of coldness but not the way you think.  Those few minutes can erase years.  In that delicate span of time everything is right. Even in those perfect moments he is doing level best to drown them.  Quite an unusual brand of happiness.  He created this tragedy and through that earned so much.  the attention.  For just a moment.  That was enough and everything else.  This homemade gift bought and sold and hidden underneath and lovingly inhaled later on.  If only to suffocate on….

And then this grim realization of the true character which lies underneath.  That’s how it always starts, right?  Isn’t that what they said?  You did not even realize it until it was right on you and breathing down your back.  And now you’ve turned into far uglier than what you’ve always pointed out.  Much better off without…much better off….

I understand now what they said about his voice, it makes such perfect sense.  What a fool I was for ever doubting.

How necessary to place on a pedestal sometimes.  The only healing thing.  

It’s getting quieter now.  Settling in.  this is the best part, right?  To be able to return to the masquerade ball.  That is the only thing.  Sometimes showing up with a clear mind, sometimes not but always find that broken and blissful understanding. Kiss.  Embrace. 

 
Only so much more, isn’t there?  never. 
In the field, the sun and blue and green.  And then burgundy and black.  Do you remember what he saw?  It hurts to confront its own because of all the hatred.  Hurts to speak in….  Best not to relive it that way.  Don’t be so bold.  

But there, walking through the field and freely giving life.  There are the many faces of….  A heart here.   Every single time she was always central.  All things being defined, she was in every single one of them.  Impossible to listen anymore without….  And the place where he bought it all.  And going there and wondering and laughing and dying.  Somewhere in there was loving and it was glorious.  Do you recall the generosity?  The renewal of spirit.  Always freely giving life.  Green that day. And the sweetest sound.  Head hurts a bit again.  but not for this.  Walking past and smiling.  So much transparency.  He has done so much to destroy it but never really succeeds.  Introductions echoing forever.  So lovely.  this is how it had to be, thankfully.  Everything else that followed but has anything truly…?  Always be the question.  No strength to even finish, right?  But these are guarded away and treasured.  Not to be used too much.  tears and just a tiny bit of pure.  Are they all one?  The very last time, has that arrived yet?  There will likely never be a chance to say thank you.  

Never been seen by anyone like you before.  
Still don’t know the color.  

Part of my design (love the new...!)

Only one day before.  Life is so sad, life is sad.  That little thing found in the store.  I wrap it around me like a blanket.  Only for you I don’t regret that I was….  None of my thoughts are truly mine.  Taking for granted.  Sexy Star, that was amazing.  Fantastic storytelling, greatness.  You deserve it!

  
Eric Avery and Peter Hook are two of my favorite bassists ever.  As I pore through the discography of Perry Farrell – including the latter two Jane’s Addiction albums – I am becoming more convinced of the irreplaceable importance of Avery’s contributions.  And Hook’s lines are so melodic and beautiful, so innovative and inspirational.  If I wasn’t such a worthless sack of shit I’d be able to better articulate my feelings on his playing and properly explain his greatness and significance as a bass player.  

And they understood, in the end they understood.  How could they grasp things so well and so eloquently?!  Oh she has….  Old man walked into the place and called her his love.  What’s happening to all of us?  Nothing without misery.  I’m gonna take you home.  Who says that to him?  He looks to sky skeptically, mockingly.  Who are we following, inventing new idols every single day?  On that most lovey dovey of days you wore white.  Do you remember that?  Pure white.  Immediate angelic connotations.  Then a splash of red.  Devilish.  Sumptuos.  Lovely.  Smile killing everyone

.  
Muse disappearing.  Keep coming back.  He thinks he has begged but the truth is something different.  There are no chance encounters, no opportunities to set things straight.  

The new Godzilla movie looks amazing.  I think I already mentioned that somewhere.  

The belief is not the problem.  people are simply awful.  

These are our earliest explorations in sexual experiences, aren’t they?  Where are you going to find me?  Buried somewhere and blissfully strangled.  Dolphins screaming.  More and more we are simply a group of very imperfect people.  Are we all just pretending and is our salvation a myth etched on a crumbling statue?  Her arm around his throat and applying ever more pressure while whispering sweet nothings into his ear, her breath hot against his skin.  Wrapped tightly around. Squeezing.  Belittling. Humiliation.  Dominance.  Wonder  
When did profanity become so lovely?  “You are so fucking…!”  With that perfect it inflection it is oh so yum.  

I don’t know about the color blue anymore.  I’m listening to her again.  She is becoming one of my all-time favorites.  What color are those shoes again?  Thank you for keeping everything so interesting.  Inflections are blowing things up as they should be.  I think I am going to fall very hard.  His twisted logic makes sense to him alone.  Why don’t we feel more for those who are genuinely trying?  

Please, he does not want to rob this happiness away from anyone.  Let him see her smiling, in her eyes smiling.  When you strip away everything else what are you left with?

It is best not to teach anyone to look into their eyes.  this is highly recommended though, right?  We have to keep the machine turning.  Every experience must be unique and special and highly pleasurable.  I cannot justify anything.  

I am not a master of clocks nor have I ever been.  Joy seems to last for a few seconds and then things turn a not so nice shade again.  Morning?  Or mourning?  Either way where is the….  They both wonder this.  Those lights certainly help things in the immediate sense don’t they?  Everyone takes it for granted but only because they is nothing actually there.  When will you ever learn?  This isn’t about wearing black gloves.  The ache is still the same.  At this point, does anyone really know what anyone else is talking about?  Aren’t we all just spouting nonsense?  Maybe I should just play a rousing game of solitaire while slamming my face against a brick wall!  As a child I was always fascinated by how bricks are made and with the brick laying process.  Wonderful things, bricks; the building blocks of life you might say.  

I never quite know when I’ve plucked enough feathers.  He thinks perhaps it is time to make a list of all the centrals.  Through that everything can be returned time and time again.  like floating down the river with no destination except it is finally the….  Muses.  Nothing can afford to be forgotten anymore.  It is all so fleeting and hard to come by.  Was there a tiger staring at me from the foot of my bed?  Why do I feel so scared?  Oh God please don’t let it get near me please don’t let it touch me.  

We’re in a mountain somewhere and now I’m on my back.  He wonders why they always look him directly in the eyes but finally he understands.  It is so awfully hard to talk to people anymore.  What is this strange stuff we have covering our bones.  Headaches.  Sleepiness.  All over again and again.  I must lose weight and then tan.  
I don’t know what it’s called but I really like that hip hairstyle women are rocking where they kind of shave part of one side.  When done right it looks very cute!  What the heck do I know though?  My opinion doesn’t matter!  I’m as ugly and repulsive as they come!  Batten down the hatches now!  All aboard!!!  

Let this not be true please let this not be true.  You’ve created this cacophonic thing but somehow it encompasses everything inside.  Why can’t he express anything?  Who has been holding his tongue all this time?  This head is always pointing in a down direction.  I thank all the ones who still talk about you.  How many years did you say again?  It’s me, it’s just me and I might one day know again what that means.  Don’t let me in.  I don’t think I said that to anyone recently but I might have.  Can’t go anymore, that sounds right.  Lights up and chatter stops.  Everything exposed and ugly.  As it should be.  And always blurry these days.  

I fuck up every night and sleep all day.  

waltz up above

I read over old passages and thought about you.  Then I listened to some new old-style country music and the same thing happened.  That last description really did a disservice though.  I am not a nice person.   Maybe “nice” should be changed to “good”.  Don’t start looking for handouts now, it’s unbecoming.  

I have not been back since you left long ago.  It’s all stolen, don’t you understand that?
Sadness now in place of ecstasy.  It’s hard to figure out why he feels the way he does.  Is she waiting for you?  Just for that one hour, that one small moment that can be everything.  

Talking to people is bleeding.  

There was a man today who asked me who Brian Ship is.  He interrupted the conversation to ask me that question.  If he’d been paying better attention he would have realized the error inherent in his question.  My head hurt very badly and I did not respond to him.  That was very rude and I knew it in the moment.  He seemed pleasant enough I suppose.  I know he meant well, perhaps just desperately trying to form any sort of connection – aren’t we all (are we?)?  but I just couldn’t.  The thought of speaking to him was painful.  There is some lovely and shiny new ambience on the way to greet me though.  

Bret Easton Ellis called batman v superman one of the best movies of 2016.  I wonder what that means.  I often wonder what anything means.  There is too much dust inside.  She is looking remarkably well.  That is not a blue car at all but I will always remember it as such.  More punk, right?

I am curious where everything has gone though.  He is just going to open up the same thing all over again.  There are going to be many more tears this time.  Somewhere, it is shattering and then coming back together, music in the background, bliss.  We break for coffee and fingers graze a shoulder and this is the only moment ever of true doubtless happiness.  And there is still the night ahead.  The day is meaningless, light years away.  

This is real somewhere, I think.  There is also the masquerade ball, more real than anything, always repeating, always sad and wonderful.  Confronting the emptiness in everything.  Everything weighs so much.  Who the hell do you think you are?  I don’t know anymore.  Cue laughter.  Oh she has…green, blue, grey.  And you’ll never know.  

Tenderness.  So much deserved.  He asks for forgiveness and hopes it is real.  It is hard to tell the difference anymore.  Something is so wrong.  But no, this is deserved.  Everything that can be given for free. And it feels so heavy again.  Every word weighs a ton.  And it presses down on his chest and in his stomach and inside his head on his eyes.  This is funny, isn’t it?  

See the corner there, the light barely coming through the curtains.  I don’t know about this.  
New life.  Where has he been?  Where have you been?  Did it all come true?  There is too much awfulness already so please tell me it came true.  There should be nothing which changes your….  Was there ever anything real?  

Yes.  Don’t forget anything.  The details are so rich; she is painting inside of you.  The colors are beautiful.  Teal and magenta and black.  Oh, everything is excruciating.  Pain in head will not ever go away.  Everything is tensed and awful.  But inside there may be one little reprieve, a final place to live.  They are the same, right?  First the talk, the drinks, then the masquerade ball.  Tears all.  Tears always.  Nothing ever figured out.  No reason or understanding gained.  
Yes, she wonders.  She shares.  And she sees, just once.  Maybe….

It all comes back, harder to form anything anymore.  Crucible.  Third type.  

I need that bad stuff to make me feel better.  No, they had it right.  It doesn’t make anything come back.  But things go away for awhile, right?  There are no rules about anything anymore.  
I think I’ll go finish watching Tokyo Tribe.  It’s the middle of the night after all and there a lovely new bottle of vodka dying to meet me.  You know, I actually got my first job because I was the only one of the 17 applicants who owned a new pair of shoes.  True story.  This is the humorous part of things.  it’s good to temper stuff with humor.  Scott always gets that.  

Did you feel it when she fell?  Please do not let that be true.  The river is singing so beautifully.  It is quite a comforting thought, surrounded by blackness.  Everything would be heaviness then he supposes.  Likely a moment of extreme pain.  And then.  Warmth perhaps.  Safety and solitude and comfort.  The kind he or everyone is always searching to reclaim.  Though his search is somewhat built on false pretenses, right?  It was never truly given to him.  He was an unwanted guest.  

But no, not quite right.  Must change the course.  Bite into something.  Teeth are starting to hurt from all that exertion.  It doesn’t really matter though.  So calming though it is unfortunate that I came so very late.  Is it possible to make up for all the lost time?  Don’t try and be clever or cute anymore.  His disappointment was everywhere and….  Eyes so heavy and hands trembling.  This is not right at all.  even with everything shimmering in the background.  

But to end with such loveliness.  Was there genuine concern in her eyes, the soft lilt of her voice?  she offers it, hidden at first and then with a smile.  Everything is going to be okay.  This is a lie and everything is blurry because he realizes it for the first time.  But it doesn’t matter anymore.  The words were enough.  The look was enough.  Everything is blurry but he can still see her.  Everything is going to be okay.  I’m going to stay with you.  Until….

Todo va a estar bien. Me voy a quedar contigo. Hasta….

sick, all those who only go after, awful awful things

He imagines he was in an office somewhere, an office on the lower level and she was sitting across him.  The window looked out on a parking lot and a chain link fence, nothing pretty, and so he always kept the blinds closed.  Her needs were very specific.  And she recognized the yearning and desperation inside of him and used it to her advantage.  He recognized her recognition and did not mind being used.  He spoke better when using speaker phone to initiate the process.  There was never going to be any need to discuss payment.  He hated himself a bit more each time.  Pleasure is a fleeting and ugly thing.  

When I go out on the balcony I stretch out my arms and look at the river.  It is very inviting.  Sometimes I’m wearing a cowboy hat in those moments, maybe singing a little song.  

Some are going to refer to him as a sorcerer.  Please do not ask me if I want to live BEAUTIFULLY.  Do not inquire about the taste of butter or beautiful dresses.  What do I have in my mind?  What do you look like?  I fear I may one day be screaming and chasing someone through a sickly green colored hallway.  

He wonders if she recognizes the fear and sadness.  He believes so.  She feigned interest.  She is a master of feigning.  Removing the cranium.  Keep coming back, many happy returns and all that.  It is the strangest of confessionals but somehow richly appropriate.  He may be the saddest sheep she has ever known.  

These moths inside my head are quite vexed by lies.  A black Greek chorus, their wings are frightening.   I think we’ve been having sex in flying saucers.  I’m very low as of late.  Me thinks I’ll stand in front of an orange backdrop.  Orange is very relatable lately.  I think sleep is my most favorite thing ever.  There is no reason anymore.  She wakes up exhausted every single day.  All these old man preachers.  Sliding around inside his brain.  What glamour.  This is just the opening salvo.  How I wish everyone would stop talking to me.  This is a minor acceptance.  Kids are still smearing camel shit on the walls.  Where is the morning?  I’m a functioning member of s….  I laughed heartily at the defense.  Don’t go in that room, there are fucking ghosts in there!  I punched the wall very hard and made a hole and was shocked to find a little man living inside there.  He began talking to me and explained all the horrible things his children did, all the things they touched that they shouldn’t have.  I started to cry and begged him to stop talking to me but he would not.  Maybe I pissed my pants at some point; I’m not quite sure, tee hee.  I’ve been saving the tabs of pop cans to ingest them at some future.  Right now they are in a plastic bag and sometimes I like to look at them and then I scream and start hitting myself.  I hit myself so hard to other day my nose started to bleed.  I have a pair of pliers but I haven’t worked up the courage to use them yet.  It’s like they always said: I don’t have the chops, I can’t cut the mustard!  These needles hurt a great deal when I sit down.  We’re going to come out and show them.  That wind chime just will not stay quiet.  My poor head hurts so much and everything is so blurry now.  My face is rotting.  That sentence alone is a laugh riot.  I think I’ll go see a musical later on or maybe read a book about ancient Chinese history.  Let’s experiment with thoughts because I think we can reach things that have been denied us.  All these outside intelligences.  If you truly believe in this lack of existence I’m afraid you have a very devastating experience coming your way.  
Look what we has done, I yell to the world.  Probably be signing off soon.  Let us end with rich jovial happiness and swim in pools and chocolate.  Everyone believes we were made for fucking.  Everything is rather disgusting.  Wait!  I said rich jovial happiness!  Is that pasta on the oven?  I heart pasta.  Let’s form a band and make forward thinking electronic music.  Please stop talking to me.  All look so phony.  Let’s zoom on a cityscape now.  Is that Scott calling?
I’m trembling for her.  maybe she’ll be my master.  
The female bodybuilder in the music video for Weezer’s new song is devastatingly attractive.    You are the chosen one
I recently finished watching the television series Breaking Bad.  Lydia’s ruthlessness was so sexy I almost sliced open my own throat just for a reprieve on the intense pleasure she gave!  
Nothing holding it together anymore.  Time for something new?  Subtle clues are everywhere.  Regrettably I can’t belong to that 30 century.  I love the fragments. And green and black.  It sounded beautiful, right?  Even or maybe especially after all that crying.  Petty jealousy a bit later on as he stole all that tenderness.  Hug.  Are you okay?  Smile and ask.  
I think that picture on my wall glows at night, the eyes I mean, they glow at night.  once its out there it can never be taken back.  Everyone should turn away.  Time to disassemble.  No control over anything.  General aimlessness I suppose though no one else’s fault.  Two sides to everything.  they’re green, then blue and then grey.  None of us have any idea what to do.  After that peak there’s nothing else, we’re just trying to outrun…
But trah lah, there is something very wrong.   Though at least now I am a functioning member of s….
Very wrong.  We just need a bigger space I think.  Bastard!  I’m so cheap!  No, I’m a failure, no one can take that away from me!  Raucous laughter.  People know the answers but they always ask anyway.  I think I’m sure.  Damn.  I think that muse has taken flight.  Each word weighs a ton.  So much is buried deep.  
He is the reason all this sickness keeps spreading.  This is all there is.  things look different in the morning.  Very very wrong, something is just wrong and
I always ask for extra bread sticks to take home hahahahahaha!  Tra la, tra la, tra la, trala, tra la.  

three times asked (music too loud), largely meaningless, everything and all

I am writing this under appreciable strain so I hope ya’ll will be understanding if it doesn’t add up.  Did ye notice the little southern twang I snuck in there?  such is the nature of wisdom.  No one has thought about blowing their brains out lately?  Or have they?  The more he discovers the less he wants to know.  My head is killing me.  We interrupt this broadcast to bring you this special announcement.  Red heart red heart.  Red heart.  Let’s switch clothes to try and fool people.
He talked about the man who built a house of cards right there in front of the festivities.  Another who feasted on steak and eggs.  I think my body is slowly shutting down. There are many things currently being masked.  
The trinity was there, did you see it?  Transcedental.  That is the only way to describe it, moving beyond all physical forms and all natural laws as we understand them.  
I’m shedding my skin.  Every inch of me is ugly and worthless from the bottom to the top.  My mama, she told me to worry about my size.  She said folks don’t like ugly fucks who suck at life!  
Does anyone really understand that moment?  Glass around the neck.  No, it wasn’t glass, it was steel or white gold.  Unexpectedly tender.  What does it mean though?  That’s just one of a thousand questions which will never be answered.  It is richly appropriate in that regard.  I must commit the greatest magic trick ever.  He should have offered five dollars American for those bad boys.  See how I’m unable to even string two senteances together?  I think it’s some kind of liqear but I did not know that before.  John was right, that is indeed how energy stays alive.  
Saying the opposite of hello to so many.  That really makes the most sense.  But a little piece will be left somewhere, under a stone.  one last time.  Very foolish, and rightly punished for the hubris. Cannot help but laugh.  Not good at all in fact.  That was a generous and well placed lie. 
Surely it was the best ever though, the absolute very best.  More than roses and shadows even.  How is that possible?  I don’t know but it was/is.  This was an alter life.  What is the real one and the glass around the neck?  Compliance is power so exquisite.  These words could only make sense in the middle of the night.  let’s put a choker on it.  
He probably had another seizure just like the one in the desert from a few years ago.  

Need to remember it all as it’s soon going to disappear into the lovely morning ether.  How many bought?  Four times two over the course of not long but not short either; easy to lose track of time when….  Not the first though, but was first was not as…still was but not as….

He had never tried that drink before and it was to the first time(s) and the last time(s).  This was the closes ever come.  Closest ever.  Black lace.  And white down below maybe, maybe things sparkled.  And underneath more black, but not as much.  Why is the brain exploding?  Maybe the heart will explode first or they’ll both go off at the same time.  How many languages spoken?  Taking by the hand.  What do they sense inside all this emptiness, do you sleep so sound after everything.  I lived by night and drove along the apocalyptic road and I was so very depressed and knew at some point I would be hurling myself into the sweet river.  But maybe I would try that drink just one more time before doing so.  Yes, please, I’m begging you, just let me try it one more.  It feels so wonderfully real and beautifully fake.  That’s because everything is happy emptiness, inside ourselves.  Maybe that’s right, I think it could be.  We didn’t need to go anywhere else did we?  I had to take it out somewhere else sometime afterward but that didn’t work.  It stayed inside his blood.  Such a lack of care.  He is an awful unneeded thing.  

This was the alternate life, right?  Questions remain unanswered.  No change.  Nothing given.  Quite presumptuous, not giving back.  But no, not really.  Let’s bury it somewhere.  A hug and we’ll be gone.  All those messages remain undeciphered (mi amor).  This is what I’m selling. You have no need for conversation.  Never.  No, even that isn’t true.  Everything is hurting surprisingly strong right now.  Oh, I love my teeth breaking away. You would have done just that, don’t be shy.  Popping the balloon.  That was not what anyone wanted.  I can’t feel anything.  Then I was shaking so bad.  How does my mouth look?  

Can we talk?  Say these things.  Speak to me in a language I recall.  I’m empty in return.  Kicking at first.  A spike right against him.  Quiver.  Laughing and nervous.  But everything was said and it was glorious.  So why the tears afterward?  That river is waiting so patiently.  It flows to the sea.  Where is my cowboy hat?  To save this world I’ve got to….  I think I was taking Polaroids of myself.  Was there a tear on my cheek.  Why is he looking everywhere now.  Life is such a bitter ugly thing.  Is he going to bite his tongue off?  Oh no, don’t tell me these things make any sense.  But in that one moment all the dirtiness was fine.  

Close my eyes and I’ll be gone.  Yes, exactly.  There were two deaths inside a mescaline.  Everyone was lined up.  let’s just take a bow already.  Don’t pretend it means anything.  I don’t think I’ll ever bring them back from Hamburg.  Where is going to be looking for you?  Six have already gone by.  Is the other one…?  Just because there’s a letter in your writing doesn’t mean you’re not….

Deliver me from  these constricting muscles.  No, I meant something else but it didn’t make any sense to anyone.  His brain is going to go somewhere.  These words, no words, come easy anymore.  Details are breaking away.  I’ve gotta reach the door.  Maybe in his sleep he’ll….  And in her sleep?  All these lovely dreams.   Nothing ever really comes true. Let’s all have a hearty laugh at that.  the balcony.  The bathtub.  Traffic.  There is still a little bottle left.  Pieces are being broken away.  Please let this much remain.  Somewhere safe and undiscoverable.  

So fucking—

“You can be my loser.”  

Again I say oh yes to the cape!

I guess I just don’t know much of anything anymore.  That is the truth.  I’m pretty sure Superman 3 and Star Wars Episode VI Return of the Jedi came out roughly around the same time back in the great year of 1983.  I’m proud to say I own both feature films on blu ray disc.  I truly am an utter failure in life though this fact has nothing to do with my ownership and enjoyment of those movies.  I would likely say I enjoy Superman 3 more but I would also likely acknowledge Return of the Jedi as the superior film.  But what do I know?  Not much, that’s for sure.  It is increasingly clear that I cannot truly succeed in the adult world.  

You know, Iggy Pop’s new album officially is released today though it has been streaming on various channels for some time now.  I gave it several hearty listens and even started to peck out an elegant review that my laptop subsequently consumed like so much wordy cuisine.  I may attempt to rewrite this review though I have not as yet fully decided.  Also released today is the score to the upcoming flick Batman V Superman Dawn of Justice.  I plan on purchasing this score though savvy readers will already know that I dare not listen to it until after viewing the motion picture 3 or more times as I find scores to be so intrinsically linked to their accompanying movie I prefer not to listen to them without the added context of the film in my brain.  

I guess I should have stayed on the farm.   My whole body has been filling with poison lately.  I am frequently taken aback and stymied by own uselessness.  I’m sitting down in a Chinese restaurant in the middle of the night and the raining is coming down like hell outside.  I make a stupid joke to the tired but polite waitress and she gives a courtesy laugh and leaves my check and a fortune cookie.  I read my fortune – though it is not actually a fortune – sign the check with a deserved generous tip and make way out into the rain.  There are a couple bars that are viable options and either is as good as the other. 

 
All these little yellow notes determine everything meanwhile I am left wondering where my soul has gone.  I laugh at my own pretensions.  I think I am becoming more plastic and saccharine these days.  I am a strange product of the 90’s.  I’ve watched the movie Bad Lieutenant Port of Call New Orleans so many times these past couple weeks, I just can’t get enough.  Typically while watching this film I am intoxicated or on my way to being intoxicated.  I think we will one day look back on that clandestine meeting as the moment we lost control and the moment we set the rest of our lives up for a fiery crash.  

Heck, or maybe not!  Though why did you have to wear those?!  Why!!?  Who told you?!  I know it was calculated.  Someone was talking strategy and weaknesses.  Please forgive me. 

Oh I admire you so.  You can create something with your hands and, when you’re done, stand back and see what you created.  I don’t imagine that we shall ever encounter each other in that bookstore and it would not make any difference now anyway.  Do you ever wonder though?  Has the thought ever crossed your mind even once?  Is it true that they always know?  

So it seems Brian Johnson has been given the boot from famed rock band AC DC and they are searching for another singer to take the reins for the remainder of their current tour.  My vote goes to Dave Evans – the band’s original singer from their glory days back in the 70’s.  In a recent interview Evans even said he would return to the fold were the band to ask him.  So it seems the stars are in line for the prodigal son to finally return.  

So it seems yesterday morning The Powers That Be released a new trailer for director David Yates’s upcoming The Legend of Tarzan.  I must say I’ve never been an especially huge fan (or anti-fan) of the vine swinging jungle man yet something about this project is oddly appealing.  The trailers have done a good job selling me on the concept so they should pat themselves on the back for that because my opinion and interest is very important (it actually couldn’t possibly be less important).  That being said I am a bit chagrined that Yates or cinematographer Henry Braham or both or someone else has decided to give the thing a dim bluish tint.  Does every fucking movie have to look the same these days?!  This is a jungle adventure, why can’t it look vibrant and colorful?!  Oh well, I’m an idiot.  I am concerned as to whether this flick – with its large 180 million dollar budget – may follow other recent attempts to resurrect older properties that bombed hard such as John Carter and The Lone Ranger.  Is Tarzan still appealing to the common folk?  Is the love story angle enough of a hook to bring in an audience?  Apes are hot right now, maybe the ape antics is all they need!  Time will tell dear reader(s).  

Oh the daughter of the demon.  I would gladly give her my sword that she may drive it through my heart (which she has already stolen).  A cape!  Oh yes!

I saw the power behind the throne the other day and recalled with supreme satisfaction the super short skirts and flesh colored pantyhose.  Sweet delights.  

Me still going through Arrow, currently smack dab in the middle of season 3.  It is a saving thing for me.  I love this show and its superheroics.  I am disappearing.  Red light, green light, I’m much too unkind. The Stranger imprinted itself upon me.  I think I am going to be recommending that very strongly to someone with an upcoming birthday (who regrettably missed a birthday).  Who died and made me anything?  It's still Lodger.  And many other like minded....  That first though....

I need to live in a pink and blue room.  London bye….

I also can't dance though I'm simultaneously too stupid to understand the noise

The daughter of the demon presented herself during my morning routine today, looking as enchanting as ever.  I would happily scale those snow peaks were I able, if only for a chance to hold her gaze while I am struck down, a blade driven swiftly and without mercy through my heart.  Perhaps she would say a silent prayer for me while I fall.  

Going along those lines, for the first and arguably most important meal of the day I consumed two farm fresh eggs cooked over easy, a slice of raisin toast with a liberal dollop of extra creamy peanut butter, a handful of tart blueberries and hot black coffee.  

Esperanza Spalding. I’ve been listening to her new album Emily’s D+Evolution quite a bit this past week and am finding it to be an increasingly rich and rewarding work.  I’ve followed her career for some five years now and consider her to be a very inspiring and honest artist who frequently showcases sumptuous bass playing on record and live.  Speaking of which, there are some fantastic live performances from this album lurking around on Youtube and they are definitely worth checking out and watching dozens of times in a row!  She is definitely a breath of much needed fresh air as I have recently felt rather bombarded with all the utter shit that passes for music these days.  Albums by Cocteau Twins, Echobelly, Scott Walker, Raekwon and an album called Lodger have also been rather helpful in me retaining my already tenuous sanity.  And always Outside.  Always.  So necessary.  What a shitty world.  

I have been enjoying the first season of Supergirl.  I typically do not comment too much on special effects (except for tired and snobbish assertion of preferring “old school” make-up, prosthetics and practical effects over CGI in nearly any and every given situation) but after seeing the white martians fully realized and the weekly depictions of the Martian Manhunter and of course the fight and flight effects on the titular heroine I would like to pay my highest compliments to the effects team for doing superlative work in every episode.  I hope this series is granted a renewal that I may continue to devolve even further into a lifeless TV junkie.  On a completely unrelated note I think I shall listen to some classic punk rock albums at some point today, perhaps while driving around with no particular destination in mind.  Upon returning home I may try and learn some of those very songs on my Fender Jazz bass while simultaneously considering whether to also purchase a Fender Precision bass (though this has nothing to do with the quality of the Jazz as it is an excellent instrument).  

I recently saw the trailer for The Truth starring Nicolas Cage and Elijah Wood and I can say I am legitimately excited for this feature film.  It looks like Crazy Cage is back!  Few things in life delight me as much as Crazy Cage!  My excitement for Batman V Superman Dawn of Fishsticks is also reaching a fever pitch!  I have my tickets purchased!  I will be there opening night, prepared for slavish devotion or appalled hatred.  

People are always putting shit in my mouth!  It’s disgusting!  I can’t stand it!  If it’s so cold why don’t you try getting a job you stupid slob! 

All I wanted to do last night was drink copious amounts of alcohol and watch David Lynch movies and Arrow and I’ll be damned if I didn’t make good on that wish!  I’ll be damned if I see another chick on your arm (you see how today’s muzak keeps coming back to me?!  Why?!)!  I’ll never say anything nice again, how can I (oh thank God!)!  

I was deep into a drunken stupor when I watched the following two movies back to back: Ghost Rider Spirit of Vengeance and Drive Angry.  Savvy readers will note they both star Nicolas Cage and both feature hell driven protagonists behind a flashy set of wheels.  Cage is all over this post!  I think he described his larger than life acting as some of sort of kabuki.  I tend to view it as very impressionistic.  I repeatedly curse myself for how easily and foolishly I dismissed Cage early on in my miserable and worthless life.  I now see what a bold artist he truly is and my admiration for his craft only grows stronger with each passing day.  

So following up on the recent crap I wrote about the upcoming adaptation of some of the books (though who knows which ones?!) from Steve King’s Dark Tower series, word on the streets say that none other than Breaking Bad’s Aaron Paul is set to have a prominent role, most likely as Eddie Dean, a drug shilling lackey turned hero and integral part of Idris Elba’s Roland’s team.  This is just hot buttered rumor at this point but I typically prefer dealing in rumor as opposed to fact.  I’m not sure how to feel about this rumor really.  I suppose it wouldn’t be bad though I’d worry he’d be too Pinkmanish.  But maybe that wouldn’t be so bad!  I just don’t know much of anything anymore.  I really am a failure in every regard.  

I do want to remain positive about this adaptation.  Maybe they’ll just cram all seven books into one movie and be done with it!  Elba and MConaughey are great actors and their names lend a certain seal of quality to the thing.  But then there is the ever looming and terrifying name of Akiva Goldsman which will always easily tip the scales in the other direction.  Gan help us all!  Or is it Ka?!  Whatever, someone help us!  Please!!!

Things feel much more real through glass/taken by her dark eyes/babyface was so right, so prophetic/excitement in routine, this is what is necessary every single time/introductions/a storyline makes it so much better/starting slowly, everything through a cover/eyes closed/mouth clenched/something new, even deeper, even further this time/bound/things start again always as before/professionals in every way/encompassing every single dream/inside his mouth/yes/over his face/oh yes/applying pressure/choking/sweet delights/taunting and laughing/oh such wonder.

I think perhaps he may now be looking for God in exciting new ways.  

Who set the standards?!

He was working his inches when it all took place.  No, perhaps that isn’t quite right.  

There was far too much time searching through those old books and pondering over clandestine meetings which took place at dawn.  There was a speech, a rally and then people were screaming for a monster.  Someone previously bathed in an otherworldly placental pond emerged from the group.  The creature truly walks among us now, a fact which makes him laugh so hard.  

Things are moving exactly as planned and very soon it will be far too late to turn back the clock.  A crisis is just over the horizon and the sickening feeling in the pit of his stomach is the foreknowledge of the pending blackening of the sky.  How is he able to hide the horns?  How is he able to hide the horns?!  

You’ve made your home inside a dancehall.  We must admit the lighting is exquisite but everyone who comes up to you is wearing a mask.  This is all false, this is all just pretend.  Once the tears dry and our vision is clear we can face the harsh reality of things.  There is an inherent hopelessness in life.  Some people have made pacts to help them accept this.  When you are inside that dancehall they cannot touch you.  But even in that moment of safety you are so drained and with nothing to offer anyone.  

Do you recall those two women you met so long ago; one novice and one experienced?  The novice painted such lovely portraits.  There was a gallery of twelve different eyes, the irises glinted and each had a needle headed toward them.  She made the blood drip from the canvas.  

She had a particular way of walking up a spiral staircase and a propensity of abuse that suggested a fierce yet insecure core.  She was something but nothing at all in comparison to the experienced one.  That was the individual who had complete control at all times.  She beckoned inside your mind and you consistently returned to the temple, begging to hear her voice.  Once, you saw her in the middle of a field where no one should have been.  She had a baby in her arms.  What was the nature of that encounter?  You seem to have blocked it from your mind.  Was the sky on fire?

The novice explained to you how to summon her if you so desired.  But desire was far too weak a word for what lurked inside you, correct?  You would have given anything.  Your life was far too weak an offering and you knew this all too well.  But she told you how.  She had a book with her and what wasn’t in the book she had already committed to memory and she told you what to say and when to say it and what to have on hand.  Her words came with a warning but you were so consumed by obsession there was no chance of heeding it.  Oh please no, did you actually go through with it?  You did, you saw her, it, they were there inside your room.  Others saw the red lights flashing from your window even though you had the curtains pulled tight.  What happened to you afterward?  

He is still looking for the one that catches, all the while wishing to dance with the one’s mother.  He’s skipping from place to place and asking as many of those in charge as possible.  He will likely keep asking until he receives the “right” answer.  He can see the two of them above everything, spinning.  

They placed him inside a fleshy suit.  His teeth became someone else’s teeth and he saw things through the fresh eyes of a traveler.  When he emerged his hair was matted to his head with viscous fluids.  

I’m inside a neon jungle and they can see into my mind.  I think I am going to surrender.  I do not know where they will send me.  

You are flung in every direction and that is a direct result of the choices and deals which you have made.  We must always ask for permission because there are certain things we were never supposed to know.  I’m under a great deal of stress right now and it occurs to me that I keep seeing the same shadows in the same places.  There is some sort of outside intelligence controlling everything and playing with us and from this was sent the messenger.  After night fell and the bodies were entwined it was impossible to tell the difference between the helpless slaves of old and the new monsters seeking pleasure.  

He keeps having this horrible dream that he is being born.  This was written in stone somewhere.  

That moment of panic is sheer delight, sheer being the operative word.  That sweet divinity comes from the total dominance.  We are entangled by hatred.  These systems no longer make any sense.  The moment where it is the most difficult to breathe is always the very best.  This is cacophonic.  Nothing adult is happening anymore.  We are diseased vermin.  This poison being disseminated has my name all over it.  

Almost no one can understand.  There are no sudden meetings.  There is no such thing as that one night.  Whatever you think you experienced or found in such a short span of time was nothing more than a well lubricated lie.  

He is outside somewhere wandering through black woods.  There has been far too much toying with temptation.  Very soon her sweet voice is going to utter the word “torture” and the reality is going to begin.  He is going to swiftly regret his cavalier attitude and all that he took for granted.  Oh no, there truly is no hope left.  Let us place are bets.  

The number 13 is appearing quite frequently now.  This is all just a child’s delusion.  We are still playing dress up and foolishly believing we can make a difference.   We are cowering in the corner there and believe we are safe in the dark.  True, it offers a momentary reprieve and it is so nice not to be seen.  But there are still hands reaching out for us, grabbing at our most shameful parts and then come the gaping mouths, ceaselessly screaming in pain and ecstasy.

At that pivotal and always anticipated climactic moment he was shocked to find his seed take the form of a glistening spurt of blood.  Take it from me man, that shit don’t come out!  

I'm having a heart attack on a one way street!

I am inside a grey thing.  I think I see more clearly now: electric blue is actually the color of everything.  Every day there is little less sound, a little more reason to….  These patterns have everyone trapped; coffee and then liquor, work and then television, fake smiles and soothing absences.  Her body betrays everything.   But who is she?  Really.  

I would echo the sentiments of that text: everything is meaningless. 

Thoughts are spilling out of my brain and splatter on the floor like embryonic fluid.  I can only marvel at the new diseases we continue to create.  He is asking someone to be his victim and I wonder if she will acquiesce to his desires.  This was a brief and beautiful encounter: please turn around, let me see, please let me see, oh so delightful, so bountiful, so wondrous and ever on display.  And what are those letters, what do they mean?  My vision goes a bit cloudy here as I realize she is quite literally fucking a minion of the underworld.  Don’t you ever wonder about the origin of that strange voice which speaks to you in the middle of the night?  I’ve woken up too many times to know there’s something right there in the corner, almost perfectly concealed in the dark.  I can’t move, oh God please don’t let me see it, I don’t really want to see it.   

At last, I completed Arrow season 2 and found it to be about as satisfying as possible for a television program.  I say “about” because I have viewed more satisfying seasons of other programs though not many.   

That oil slick hair style, damn sexy!  Why have I not known about this sooner in my miserable life?  The building.  Do you know what I’m talking about?  THE building and who lurked there; if only she would have partaken in the oil slick.  It would be the most unstoppable force in the history of mankind and I likely would have died of perverse pleasure right there on the spot.  I am a tainted ugly thing.    

I need to read more about astral bodies.  There are many more texts which require my attention.  That ancient meeting which occurred at dawn terrifies me so.  Would I be risking my soul to read such a volume as that?  

You know, I really do enjoy the A Nightmare on Elm Street movies.  In a way, I feel like the character of Freddy Krueger never reached his fullest potential but it is still a series full of great moments including two genuinely great films in the original and Wes Craven’s New Nightmare and at least 2 near perfect lovingly made shlock pieces of pop art in Part 3 The Dream Warriors and Freddy Vs. Jason (Part 4 The Dream Master reaches that shlock greatness in parts) and one truly bizarre totally awful but still fascinating and therefore worthwhile flick in Part 2 Freddy’s Revenge (I would say parts 5 and 6 are simply awful without being fascinating and the remake is one of the worst things ever created) so overall there are magnificent peaks and valleys here.  I’m not sure why I’m reflecting so much on Freddy Krueger right now.  Maybe I’m just feeling a bit wistful and hoping he’ll return soon.  I’d like to pick up the recent blu ray release of Craven’s The Serpent and the Rainbow.  Then maybe I’ll watch while drowning my sorrows in booze; such is the nature of wisdom.  

Oh, and I didn’t realize until today that none other than Angelo Badalamenti provided the score to a Nightmare on Elm Street 3: Dream Warriors.  It’s just one more reason why that feature film is so great!  But is it also one more reason why I’m such a worthless individual?  Most likely.  

I was in my car and put on Run the Jewels 2 and had to stop somewhere in the second song.  It was too raw, too honest and I simply was not prepared for it at the time.  I can’t remember what I put on afterward.  I think my head hurt at some point today.  

Lluvia made the bet!  I just watched it on CMLL Informa.  An apuesta of the loveliest kind with Reyna Isis.  I will follow this til the ends of time.  My heart is so wrong, so awful.  I’m sorry (to everyone).  The Rain is so lovely.  

She felt deeply sad today but could not articulate why.  The safety typically offered by her automobile instead only offered a rather grim isolation.  For a few minutes she turned on the windshield wipers even though it was not raining.  Dinner with two friends was planned earlier in the week and her hope was they could help cheer her up with their perennial positivity and good humor.  

Oh Marcela, don’t you understand?  Don’t you realize?  The puente, the puente!  A sleeper hold!  A backbreaker!  A pin, there, sweet submission, dulce dominance.  Oh please!  Is this love?!

If you call me I will not be able to answer and you will hear my outgoing message which says I’ll likely be out of town for quite some time.  But no one will ever be able to find me.  There is an awful transformation taking place.  I think it is somehow related to some deeply disturbing dreams I’ve been having recently as well as some rather grim paintings I’ve produced.  

Where are my Plastic Man archives? Will people forever be wondering if it was a sympathy award?  I think I’m likely trailing off into oblivion somewhere.  Red wine always brings the truth though, am I right?  Of course I am.  Atta’ girl.  

I’m heading back to the Underground very soon.  Will Kobra Moon be there?  Sexy Star?  Catrina?  Oh please to all.  I am so impure.  I watched a couple spring training baseball games yesterday.  It felt like coming home.  I’ve been told drowning also feels that way.  Perhaps one day I’ll be fortunate enough to know for sure.

  
Enter the Wu-Tang (36 Chambers), Only Built 4 Cuban Linx and Liquid Swords is such a perfect musical trilogy.  And Thalia has a new album coming soon!  Very little could possibly make me happier because there exists almost no other music which makes me as happy as that of Thalia!  I’m such a piece of shit!  But all that aforementioned music is great!   

 
I’m just on episode 3 of season 3 and the very last 33 seconds has the return of Nyssa!!!  Oh Nyssa!  Be still my palpitating hollow muscular organ at the center of my circulatory system!  Like cupid, she has shot a metaphorical arrow of love straight to my heart.  How I wish she would shoot a real arrow straight to that same spot and then stay with me as the life drains out of me, smiling tenderly and telling me it was all going to be okay.  

They were a strong recurrent theme in this post but that’s simply because they are the best ever, anywhere. 

I’m seriously about to have a panic attack (I wish!  Why can’t I worry like normal?!)

I prefer the cover art of the re-released versions of the first four!

So like everyone in this miserable world I woke up this morning to discover the rather exciting news that Idris Elba and Matthew McConaughey have been cast as protagonist Roland Deschain and antagonist Walter O’Dim AKA Randal Flagg AKA the man in black in director Nikolaj Arcel’s upcoming initial installment of an ostensibly epic adaptation of Stephen King’s mighty fantasy opus The Dark Tower!  

I grew up on the works of ol’ Steve King and The Dark Tower series are some of my very favorite books of all time.  As a fan I am very excited they are finally seeing a cinematic adaptation and I am tempted to put my life on hold and sever several largely unnecessary friendships right now that I may have a fresh surge of free time and promptly re-read the entire series.  Yet as a fan I also have a few misgivings and this wouldn’t be the internet if I didn’t feel like my useless opinion was worthy of occupying some of its space.  Let me break it down a bit.
Casting: I have no issues whatsoever with this principal casting.  I can safely say I never pictured Idris Elba as Roland while reading the novels (this is likely due to King always describing his as a Clint Eastwood type though I always pictured more of an Ed Harris anyway) but Elba is a great actor who continues to prove himself and I know he has the depth of range for the part and would make a great anchor for a franchise.  He also obviously has the physicality and presence for the gunslinger and I look forward to his interpretation of the character.  I am even more pleased for the McConaughey factor and I can honestly say I cannot imagine anyone better for this role.  So casting, great!  I’ve no qualms so far.  Except the news that actress Abbey Lee is in talks to join the case as Tirana and to both those names I say who the hell is that?!  Turns out Lee was in Mad Max Fury Road (great film) and was quite good in it so that was predictable ignorance talking.  However the character is a bit of a strange inclusion so early on.  This is a writing issue which leads me to…

Writing!  By far the most troubling news about this project is The Dark Tower is allegedly shooting on a script written by Akiva Goldsman.  Goldsman name should make anyone go into convulsion and bite of their own tongue off in raw mortal terror.  He of such all encompassing shit as Batman Forever, Batman and Robin, Lost in Space, I am Legend, The Da Vinci Code, The Insurgent series and a few other similarly awful feature films.  The fact that it is his pen adapting these books should give any sane person or any person who likes well-told stories at least some pause.  Additionally, it has been reported they will be picking up somewhere in the middle of the story.  I’m not sure if that means the middle of the first book or (more likely) the middle of the series in general.  The added news that much of the story takes place in our world suggests the latter is true which would probably mean it takes place somewhere in book 2 or 3.  The previously mentioned Tirana is a character who only appears in the last book which suggests they will be condensing/changing things in some pretty big ways.  All of that is understandable.  Dark Tower has not proven itself to be commercially viable in a cinematic sense so while as a fan I would love for 7 movies to be made of the 7 books I can accept the producers need to hedge their bets and come out as strong as possible.  The first book would adapt quite easily into a movie but would it draw people back for part 2 (which is VERY different).  I can happily accept change as long the essence of the tale remains true and the characters are recognizable as their literary counterparts through their dialogue and actions. 

 
Director!  The only Arcel movie I’ve seen is a Royal Affair which starred Mads Mikkelsen (swoon) though that was a very well done film which showed Arcel is a very capable director and as of now I’ve no doubt in his abilities.  Given the source material I often thought Guillermo Del Toro would be a good choice for a Dark Tower adaptation but I’m very curious to see what kind of touch Arcel is going to bring to things.    

Release date January 13, 2017/shooting schedule: Aside from the horrific specter of death presence of Goldsman, this is the other major sticking point.  January is a notoriously awful month for movies and historically a dumping ground for shit films in which the studio has little to no faith.  There are always exceptions – and I’ve certainly enjoyed many a January release because I love many terrible movies – yet this release date does not instill one with a great sense of confidence.  Again, I can only write this off as this material being unproven at this point and the studio not wanting to gamble a potential franchise on a riskier release date.  But that still leaves a rather short turnaround time – less than a year – to complete the film and have it released.  Rushed productions are also rarely a sign of great things to come.

Despite my complaining I am truly excited this project is finally seeing fruition and I want to hope for the best.  The presence of two great and in demand actors like Elba and McConaughey suggests there’s something good in the script or in Arcel’s plan.  I think I will pour myself a bowl of Life cereal and make a conscious decision to remain cautiously optimistic, excited and eager to see what vision of these great books comes to fruition.  There is a rich mythology here and enough story for several great films.  I hope several great films are created!

Gosh I love these books!  Please don't screw up the adaptation!  I beg you!!!    

Me off to eat doughnuts!  I’m a legal eagle!