FIGHTORFLIGHT(H!@#$%YDELIGHTS)SG3

I was pleased to sea Facinelli back as Maxwell Lord but was surprised they did not offer any real clues to his villainous nature.  Perhaps they are not going that direction with this character but a recent interview with Facinelli would indicate they are (might not know it now baby but I are, this should be a line uttered on the show).  

The Grim Reaper is closer now.  He’s not smiling yet but he’s beginning to take notice of the things around him and maybe likes what he sees.  

It’s dark.  Come here.  Don’t be afraid.  The speakers’ lines are reversed when it happens to me.  Outside my circular window I am not sure if that disquieting orange light is coming from the sun or the moon.   Must we emerge covered in blood?  It’s not what you think.  Sex is utterly terrifying.  Fleshy writhing monsters.  This design is perfect.  Audio betrays us all.  
I really love Funkadelic’s most recent album.  I discover new and great things about it all the time.  

I read on the news today that a remake of Christopher Nolans YEAR feature film Memento is in the works. I cannot think of a better idea in the world than that.  

I need to do more practice with voodoo.  Anyone with me.  

Macbeth quote here.  

I watched blue tinted video imagery of this doctor recounting his final moments.  It seems this great and mystical world was somehow able to see directly into my soul and give me exactly what I always dreamed of.  This woman entered my room and she was beautiful, everything I imagined.  There was also something frightening about her and her emotionless gaze.  I wondered what thoughts lurked behind her eyes; the same eyes whose color I could never quite articulate.  Oh no, this is quite wrong.  She is something terrifying.  But the sensation, the feeling of skin against, is something I’ve longed for and I do not want to resist right now.  

I saw the new 007 flick the other day.  I went by myself.  No, that isn’t entirely true.  I will have to re-watch all twenty-some-odd Bond movies to be one thousand percent certain but I think I would call Monica Bellucci my all time favorite Bond Girl.  This despite the fact that her role essentially amounts to nothing more than a glorified cameo.  I’m ready for a different director for the next one!  

I nearly expired of perspiring pleasure when I read that Prince is embarking on a tour which feature only he and his piano.  Then my spirits sunk faster than something really heavy thrown into a large body of water when I read this tour will only be for the great European countries of this fair planet.  I implored the heavens, screaming for answers, asking why Prince can’t see fit to give back to the very country in which he was born and raised!  We need you!  Please extend this tour to the United States and I will believe in you forever.  All things shining.  

I weep that I have no more of The Secret History left.  One of the best books I’ve ever read.  I have made a sacred vow to read every book every written by Donna Tartt which should be relatively easy as she only has three.  I miss that world and those characters.  She filled my head with wonderful things.  

Insular, that is my world now.  There is fire inside of things.  Can anyone follow this? How about when we are rolling on the ground.  Oh Scott, thank you so very much.  

I still dream about you even though it is oh so wrong.  I was so close and you never saw.  What would everyone do if they knew the truth?  I hope there is an evil twin out there somewhere.  Maybe that one can be for me.  

On a related note I must admit that in my old and increasingly ignorant age I am finding myself enjoying Moore a lot more than I ever did before.  

Oh my goodness!!!! So delightful.  I can’t get you out of my head.  How depressingly literal, the reason he stayed.  

He warned be about this. He tried to explain everything to me.  My pulse keeps going faster.  Words are difficult for me now.  It has been a very long time since my last confession.  I don’t understand why sound comes in and out and why my memory plays tricks on me.  I lied about so much and it is all catching up to me.  I feel truly scared.  Did you see her standing there?  Was I the only one?  What does that writing on my bedroom wall mean?  What language is that?  I have lived a strange double life and I fear my end may be at hand.  I am terrified to look at anyone; their faces somehow keep distorting, strange deformed figures keep walking in my line of sight.  I am down on my knees and there is a sense of penetration.  History has showed us there are very real and malevolent forces out there.  This person speaks ignorance to me who wants to write it all off as a matter of perspective.  That weakness will result in a very grisly demise.  

My shield was up as you advised and I must admit I loved it.  is that wrong?  Is there something wrong with me?  Strange patterns keep popping up.  Golden headphones.  We all have reason to be in love with him.  What do you look like?  Physical beauty has robbed me of all common sense.  There is not rationale here. 

 
He is a bad man deep down but he is doing his best to hide this.  One day he won’t be strong enough and everything will come out.  It will be true horror.  

I wonder when the Part Two of my life is set to begin?  When it happens I hope the title card announces it is a foreign language with English subtitles. 

 
Overall very strong episode, possibly my favorite yet.  I’ll give it a good score full of positivity (have you had your plus sign today?)

Something tells me I’ll be drilling through the spiritus sanctus tonight.  

SG EP2 Review

I’ve been having these dreams lately.  I’m in a red tunnel and somehow the tunnel splits in two.  And then something terrible happens.  To me.  I don’t want to remember everything. I think there is a bug inside of me.  At some point today I was lying down in the park reading a book with an orange cover while children played around me.  I think in that moment I did not hate anyone.  

I don’t remember much of what I did last Monday but I do know that I watched the second episode of Supergirl titled Stronger Together.  And thus here I am with another review, honoring my solemn vow of devotion to this chronicling of the adventures of Kara Zor-El.  

I heard the song I Need You by LeAnn Rimes today for the first time in decades.  I’d forgotten how much I love that song, very pretty melody.  That reminded in some weird way to order a Criterion blu ray with Willem Dafoe.  When it gets here I think I will watch it with the director’s commentary first despite having never seen the movie.  I am a little scared. 

The almost opening scene involving the oil spill was great, great humor.  I felt it struck exactly the right tone.  I was pleased with the soft-boiled egg of Maxwell Lord being featured (this time played by Peter Facinelli, perhaps best known from the excellent television series Fastlane).  Lord is a groovy character with a rich history in DC Comics lore.  I look forward to seeing if he shall be friend or foe to our girl of steel.  I recall that Gil Bellows played Lord on Smallville.  Bellows also co-starred with Calista Flockhart on Ally McBeal and Flockhart now plays Cat Grant on Supergirl.  It’s all connected!  It’s all some grand conspiracy.  My life is a shambles.  Flockhart was better in this episode and her character was used well.  I still don’t like the approach they have taken with her but I at least now see hope.  

Some of the Krypton scenes were a bit on the nose as it pertained to the episodic story but I was pleased as kick in how true they is being to the current Kryptonian mythology.  All kinds of name dropping on this program.  This pleases me.  I grew up addicted to comic books and eventually I became a hollow shell of a man void of talent and unable to foster any real relationships.  But I still read funny books.  

Laura Benanti is doing a fantastic job with what is essentially 3 different parts, the evil and sexy Astra, Alura Zor-El and the holographic AI version of Alura Zor-El.  

I have friends who slavishly worship the Star Wars mythology but that has never been me.  Still, I must say the original poster for A New Hope is a great poster, just fucking great.  If I didn’t have such indifference to Wars I might purchase it and hang it on my wall for all to see and envy.  Maybe instead I’ll hang up a nice still life or some nature photographs, maybe some old black-and-white family photos.  Perhaps I’ll finally just do what needs to be done and end it all.  

Do I even need to say it?  Melissa Benoist is still far and away the best aspect of this show.  They totally hammer and nailed it with this casting, a perfect mixture of earnestness, humor, vulnerability, strength and beauty.  I am deeply in love with her and in many ways I realize now I’ve loved her my entire life.  Yet I also am in love with Maria Celeste.  Whom do I love more?  That is a question I’ve been asking myself the better part of all afternoon.

There was just ever so slightly something off about this episode, tonally speaking. I find that I’m unable to explain exactly how it was off which just proves once again what a great writer I am.  The dialogue is still too heavy on the exposition but that’s to be expected.  But that’s still no excuse!  Still, I do love how fast it is moving; wasting no time in Supergirl having her first fight with which I assume is the season long main villain.  It’s not yet quite as smooth as The Flash but it is doing its unique thing and doing it well so far.  I normally find second episodes to be the shakiest of all and this one had some missteps that I can’t quite explain it was still surprisingly strong and consistently enjoyable.  

I think I’ll go listen to Scott Walker and write some crap.  Then I’ll probably go gas up my rig and by a gallon of milk and a box of cereal which I will consume will watching episode three tonight.  I’m not sure what I will do afterward.  Perhaps I will read some Shakespeare.  Or maybe I’ll watch The Spy Who Loved Me or Krzysztof Kieślowski’s 1993 flick Trois couleurs: Bleu.

My posh flat smells like strawberries.  There’s nothing quite as good as strawberry.  I spent hours today on the website iamablackstar.com.  Who knows how many countless hours I will spend there tomorrow?  These are precisely the types of questions that will haunt me throughout the night.  I don’t consider myself insane.  I am something a recluse and misanthrope and very very self absorbed.  I was born in the sixties and felt completely out of character for such a long period of my life.  

You are such an inspiration.  This is the truth, the harsh reality at the center of everything.  I am feeling so much love these days.  I think I’ll record an entire album in ¾ and give the people something they can waltz to all night.  Maybe I’ll see you there in a white dress.  I’ll feel exhausted on the inside but look well rested on the outside.  Everyone around us will be wearing masks but we will see each other for real.  

Jacques will likely be the next.  It just makes sense.  I can no longer ignore all the signs.  Funky dollar bill is real ya’ll.  I give B plus. 

The Grim Reaper remains hopeful.  I will follow his lead for now.  

He punched me in the face while I was drinking whiskey

Girl super is on tonight.  I thee watch.   I think I’ll eat a piping hot bowl of Cream of Meat while I watch.  I have high hopes that the resultant combination of steaming meaty treat and pulpy television will help alleviate this buzzing inside my head that has been plaguing me for the better part of my entire life.  Sometimes when I’m alone and no one is daring to watch me I sing like Todd Rundgren because I have a great set of pipes and a true rock voice.  Then I run around the house in my jockies and break mirrors by slamming my face into them.   I never chew the glass though.  

So the recent meeting between OH and YEAH was apparently something incredibly important in the history of the world, something vital, something milquetoast necessary that should restore faith in all humanity.  I’m not sure what to think.  Are their I’M designed for universal appeal or are they designed to appeal to UP?  Do ON THE ELEVENTH want to look like this and FLOOR their AND like this?  There would be nothing wrong with that.  If I clutch my bottle of pills firmly while watching their I’M and have no interest at all in what I find to be colloquially bad WATCHING is that a bad thing?  Would they care at all?  Do they need to THE like this to appeal to all demographics?  Are they a fantasy for both CRUISERS and BELOW.  Are they role models?  Are they HE’S themselves?  Would DOWN approve?  Does it matter?  Is it possible to look at ON THE with STREET massive AND HE’S and take TRYING seriously as an HARD?  Would Picasso do likewise?  Does it matter?  Would Aretha Franklin or Annie Lennox do likewise and does that matter?  Am I a simple misanthrope for my feelings on this matter?  Can’t people be sexual and talented?  Must talent and dexterity be something mutually exclusive?   

Does anyone else have an opinon?  Does any of this actually matter?  Is this pillage empowering or pathetic?  Is it possible for a TO  to have an informed opinion of this?  Do I stand for something other than commerce?

And what part do I play in this?  What strange days where we worship the almighty dumper; that which shits and sits with equal aplomb, this quivering creator of excrement and perpetrator of glorious gyration?  

?  Sexuality is an empowering thing.  

I cry myself to sleep after I realize there is no more money left..  The double period is making a big comeback in this year, I’m calling it right here and now and soon everyone will hail me as the ultimate genius.  Actually, truth be bold I burst into tears no less than 9 times today.  Sometimes intense and painful laughter followed these tears but sometimes it was just screaming and fear and a few moments where I did not even realize it was I who was screaming.  There is something living in my wall writing little messages and frankly this scares me.  

I make myself a turkey on wheat sandwich with a hint of mayonnaise.  I drink water with this because I’m watching my weight these days after my doctor told me I have high cholesterol).  Is it taboo to talk about masturbation?  Is that a bad thing?  

Am I just someone deeply and reprehensibly confused by electricity in all it’s forms?  

It is trending though so we all love it.  I love it too.  It’s ultimately harmless I suppose.  We all have our wild nights of booze and debauchery.  I wish I had someone around that could always hold a mirror up to my face.  Everything in the world is harmless because nothing really means anything.  They genuinely like each other.  I guess that’s a good thing.

  
In the end the hypocrisy falls on me, as always.  I revel in this.  Am I just so precious and in love?  I am clearly the one at fault here and I want to apologize to everyone in the world.  
I should be unthawing everything by now.  There’s far too much ice in this world. I once met a man so afraid he was actually afraid of the ice caps melting and washing us all away for our crimes and grimes against nature.  I remember talking to him about this at a comedy club while he was unshaven and wearing a plaid shirt and I just thought to myself, wow, I was as afraid as that guy I don’t know what I’d do.  I’d probably have no choice but to look in the personal ads for some used furniture because I’m getting so damn ripped off by the deposit and rent in my new apartment hahahahahahaha.  

Gosh and in the end I’m just being a worthless prune, right?  It’s just Cap N’ Crunch, after all.  In so many other places and other polyrhythmic equations this is not a big deal in the slightest.  I am simply ignorant.  It is only checkers, nothing else.  There is nothing deeper here, no message being imparted.  What anyone takes away from this tomato based clam chowder and silt, how any person young or old allows themselves to be gentrified is their own personal thing and this responsibility should not be thrust upon any beatnik or vagabond.  I am mixing things up here because I am a supremely stupid and confused individual.  We all like getting our clocks off after all, right?  I love that quick bird.  Might it be one of if not the finest thing in life?  Might not our thick aromatic juices be the center of everything?  While we are fishing and chipping and dipping and dangling, is that not what it’s all about.  I’m being an asshole again and moving away from the point.  I guess I have no point.  Please comment below to tell me what I jerk I am.  But I do need someone to explain it to me, maybe someone can help sort out what I’m missing here because there is clearly a failure in my understanding.  I am wrong though.  Let this be known.  I am wrong.  Most likely about everything.

PULL SISTER FLO

Bad bitches like them is hard to come by. 

 
Great Caesar’s ghost, we are all seriously ducked.  

Supergirl Review

My evening went as smooth as a glass of delicious Soy milk which I drink due to my body’s latent lactose struggles. 

The centerpiece of it all – some would argue the very reason for my existence – was viewing the series premiere of Supergirl on the Columbia Broadcasting System.  I did not have the slightest idea what to expect as I have a rather dubious history with the television format and goodness knows superhero adaptations run the gamut from the sublime to the gag inducing awful with seemingly no way to predict which will be which without watching.  As such, I made myself a big bowl of piping hot soup, sat down on my bourgeois sofa and watched with eyes literally glued to the screen.  Being a physically large fan of funnybooks and of the Superman mythology in particular I can say there was never a moment in this entire pilot episode where my face did not wear a maniacal grin which could easily have been mistaken as a twisted rictus of death.  Yes dear friends, I hate to spoil the verdict but I give this premiere a hearty and swollen thumbs up! 

Prose: Right up front the most central thing, the most necessary component without which the show could never work worth a hooey is the casting of Kara Zor-El AKA Kara Danvers AKA Supergirl and the mysterious powers that be have scored a super win with Melissa Benoist who lays claim to role effortlessly (or so it appears).  She takes a little of Christopher Reeve’s Clark Kent in her portrayal of Kara as occasionally awkward or clumsy and this is shockingly endearing and makes the rock em’, sock em’ action hero transformation even more satisfying.  Most importantly, she is believably earnest (goes to camp) and forthright in her actions which really sells the character.  This also ensures that the instances where she shows fragility do not seem forced or saccharine.  And she’s just as believable when smashing semi-trucks or punching out aliens. 

The arc she is given is slight – she essentially goes from being a good person hiding in plain sight to really really good person now in the public eye – but it is sweet hero’s tale and I actually find it a bit refreshing not having to contend with another dark angst-ridden character and simply have someone with a strong desire to do good (that has always been a huge appeal to me for Superman as well, just as that lack angst is something which turns some people off).  And yes, she is also quite attractive and made my eyes bulge, my palms sweat, my mouth go dry and my pulse race when she stepped out wearing the “S” and the red skirt and cape. 

Quick note on the suit from Academy Award winner Colleen Atwood: it looks great and I’d have no reservations about this design appearing in a feature film.  It is iconic and functional without ever being exploitative (I think) and any ridiculous comic fans that have issues with it should just bite down on cyanide pills.  There is also one thing in particular about it which followers of The Cream will no doubt realize thrills me to alarming levels.  Overall, this iteration of the Supergirl character completely works in characterization, efficiency, power-level and appearance and is a more than worthy interpretation.  

There were tons of little soft-boiled eggs for fans to pick up on from the casting of former Superman Dean Cain and former Supergirl Helen Slater as Kara’s adoptive parents to homages to the classic Superman The Movie in the way the episode’s villain contacts Kara to characters like Hank Henshaw (played by a great David Harewood, more groovy casting) appearing.  Henshaw?!  Will he become the Cyborg Superman at some point?!  This would please me no end.  The supporting cast holds up well and the establishment of three central locations: her home, her job and Department of Extra-Normal Operations (odd name) goes a long way to setting a firm foundation the series can utilize.  To that end the most crucial relationship (so far) between she and her sister played out nicely and I’m happy both these characters will be on the field.

The action and effects – something always requiring more slack on television – were quite well done with the requisite plane rescue as thrilling as ever and the villain fights blissfully showing a lack of restraint; these were great knock down brawls.  

Khans: The whole enchilada was a little rushed.  The groundwork I previously alluded to was impressive in how quick it came but the drawback to events blurring by like a really fast thing is that key moments often pass with nary time to savor or appreciate them.  Ultimately, I think I do prefer they get to the point like that rather than elongating everything and stretching out what would be predictable plot points over several episodes but hopefully scenes are allowed to breathe a bit more now that the pilot business is out of the way.  I’m also never big on narration and this was utilized largely because of how quick everything was.  

As stated, I am overall pleased with the casting with one exception: Calista Flockhart.  Those who know me best know that Ally McBeal is possibly my favorite program of all time and I certainly consider myself a fan of Flockhart’s work so it pains me to say the Meryl Streep Devil Wears Prada shtick she’s employing here is something which will quickly get old(er).  I hope the writers and she add more depth to this character as the season progresses or I sense she will stick out even more like a formerly malignant tumor beginning anew with fresh verve and spunk.  

I also cannot recall the villain’s name and can see how this show may have an element of freak-of-the-week formula to it (as many of this type fall back on).  The phantom zone prison is a neat idea for a well of bad guys but I hope they are able to develop these characters as interesting threats beyond mere muscle and special effects.  The Flash has done a good job of establishing multiple villains with longer arcs and I would like to see that done here.  The end scene seems to be heading in this direction which gives me hope they are already addressing this issue. 

I will say one thing here about TONE.  This is a much brighter series in comparison to a lot of other superhero romps or shows out there (at least in this episode!  Maybe they’re just waiting to start up all the arcs about incest and cannibalistic serial murder).  A little cheese or camp (and those are not the same thing despite many people using them interchangeably) is not a bad thing in my never humble opinion.  Heck, even an overload of them can be amazing if done right though I would say this show merely added a quick pinch.  If there is any mythology that can strike a balance between earnest lightheartedness and sci-fi infused superheroics it should be Superman.  I may be more forgiving or accepting of things like cheddar and camp than others but I dare say a vast majority of TV shows have those elements (even the dramatic heavy hitters) but many audience members simply deny it and are aghast to ascribe anything like that to their favorites as those elements have somehow become synonymous with the word “bad”.  Light does not automatically mean silly or ridiculous just as dark doesn’t automatically equate to intelligent or mature.  Still, I can understand how something like this would not be geared to everyone’s tastes or everyone’s superhero tastes but I think it beneficial to judge it on its own intentions and associated merits rather than what one wishes it might be.

Winding down here I am shocked to the point of dropping a massive steaming load into my formerly clean pristine white jockies to say that I loved this premiere!  I see this first episode debuted to smashing ratings but I also know that any show has the potential for drops and struggles with consistency, this may be even truer on a show like this (Agents of SHIELD, Gotham and the recent Heroes Reborn are prime examples of this) and I wonder if this show might have been better served on the CW along with Producer Greg Berlanti’s other shows Arrow, The Flash and the soon to premiere Legends of Tomorrow.  We’ll see how it fairs on the Columbia Broadcasting System but for right now it has me chomping at the proverbial bit for the next episode.  Time will tell if Supergirl has a future but as I vowed yesterday I will stay with it whether it’s cancelled next week or whether it lasts for another 75 years at which point Benoist will be 102 years old and I will likely be dead as I have a pretty bum ticker.  

Remember when the Parasite pretended to be her?!

In probably the best news I’ve heard in roughly two-and-a-half years David Bowie is going to be releasing a new album on January 8, 2016!  This just happens to also be the same day as his 69th birthday.  Coincidence?!  My hopes for this release are exceedingly high as I immensely enjoyed 2013’s The Next Day.  Honestly, at this point in his career he has absolutely nothing left to prove but I’m glad he still seems metaphorically hungry and is willing to put out music that is both challenging and showing artistic growth.  I’ve only heard the snippet released of the title track but it made me squeal with girlish glee.  I plan to hitchhike on over to Ye Olde Conglomerate to purchase the compact disc and vinyl copy the day it drops though at 12:00 AM on January 8, 2016 I will also purchase and promptly download the digital copy.  Such is the nature of wisdom.  I wonder if he is feeling a bit of competition from Scott Walker’s recent albums.  I’m probably full of malarkey for even suggesting such a thing however.  I truly am a worthless individual.  But man, did I love Bish Bosch.  They don’t need to compete though.  Whatever they do in life in great!  That’s what I always tell my children to provide them with proper parental encouragement.  Blackstar!  I love that title and the accompanying photo that was uploaded on his Facebook.  Is this a new persona?  Some overarching theme to the work as a whole?  Just a word he liked?  Maybe all of the above!  I swear if he ever does another concert that I will be there no matter where it is and no matter what the cost.  I will do anything…kill anyone….

I’m listening to John Coltrane’s 1965 jazz classic A Love Supreme.  It reminds me very much of the days I spent in Chicago playing the upright (or double if you prefer) bass in various quartets in little jazz clubs all up and down the mean dirty streets.  I can still remember the taste of cold beer and stale peanuts after we would finish our third set for the night, my hands raw and blood drying on the strings.  I always left it all out there on the stage, never holding anything back.  Damn, I jammed with some great players back in the day.  There are few sounds as sweeter in this life as that of a good upright (or double if you prefer) bass.  And boy howdy but Jimmy Garrison’s solos in A Love Supreme, particularly at the end of Pursuance are divine.  If you don’t believe me then buy the album and begin a torrid love affair with this eminently rewarding genre.  

Memories of those times also warm my heart when I think of Camila. She was a classic Mexican vedette who often worked nights at Bleek’s (which we would play every Thursday or so), earning raucous and adoring applause with her singing and dancing.  Being a bassist, I have always appreciated a fat bottom end and the memory of her mammoth rump and thunderous thighs crammed into fishnet hosiery on those nights is still enough to put steam in my heart.  Her hair was black as night and matched the leather high heels which always adorned her perfect feet which had the best arches I’d ever seen.  She had a deep appreciation for music and frequently complimented my chops on the ol’ four-string.  An easy contender for highlight of my life was when – after a few too many shots of El Jimador Silver Tequila – we both ended up at her flat on the East side where she demanded I lay on the floor so she could slip off her heels and use my face as a footrest.  Her wondrously aromatic nylon encased feet were heaven.  It was also the first time I realized how deeply sensuous is the crook of a woman’s knee.  

Supergirl premieres tonight promptly at 8:30 on the Columbia Broadcasting System!  It seems like it will be great family entertainment which is why I am going to watch it alone.  I can legitimately say I am excited to view this program, being a fan of funnybooks and superheroes and all.  The Superman mythology is one of my all-time favorites and I’m pleased as punch to delve into it once more.  It is my solemn vow to stay with this show for as long as it lasts whether it’s cancelled after tonight’s episode or goes strong for another 75 years it has earned a fan for life.  I plan to watch this premiere while eating beef bourguignon with ketchup.  I will bequeath five dollars American legal tender to anyone who can tell me the significance of that particular dish coupled with this show.  Don’t be shy!  Anyone at all!  But yeah, I’m super pumped!  I’m ready!  I just want some good old-fashioned fun superheroics! 

I think I’ll go the cinema tomorrow, just stumble in for a light and breezy matinee.  Then I’ll do some reading and then I think I’ll tune in for the baseball game, perhaps drinking a whiskey but likely not.  Baseball is such a lovely sport, boxing too.  Jazz, books, hosiery, baseball and the Good News.  Is there really anything else one needs?  I’ve been considering other sports to watch during the off-season.  I’m thinking either basketball or hockey.  

Criterion’s blu ray release of Mulholland Drive hits the streets tomorrow.  I plan on purchasing 9 copies.  It’s not exaggeration when I say this is my favorite movie of all time though it may be an untrue statement (so could it actually be an exaggeration as well then?).  I frequently go back and forth with myself – often with a well-oiled gun in hand, alternately aimed at my temple or with the barrel in my mouth – over whether my true favorite is in fact Batman Returns.  I believe Batman Returns is the feature film I watch the most, the flick I would take with me on a deserted island if I had to pick one and the last piece of cinema I would choose to see before my long delayed and much deserved death.  Still, being an ultra-just-by-a-hair close second favorite is certainly nothing to sneeze, cough or vomit at and David Lynch should be proud he crafted something that I love so much in the surreal, haunting and beautiful masterpiece Mulholland Drive.  For years I’ve anticipated watching it in the glorious quality of blu and that will be my evening tomorrow post movie theatre, reading and baseball (and the wrestling match featuring Sadika la Ultraviolenta I purchased today, swoon!).

  
I really do love it but I don’t understand it.  Now, am I talking about jazz or Mulholland Drive?  Or am I somehow radically talking about both?!  Ah, that is indeed the question my friends.  

It has to do with the wardrobe

The Last Witch Hunter and Steve Jobs come out on Friday and I’m at a loss as to which I shall view first.  

I had a strong desire to listen to the Jimi Hendrix  Experience today so I woke up and promptly drank 9 cups of repulsive NesCafe (with cream and two lumps of sugar please and thank you) and went about listening to their indomitable trilogy of albums as many times in a row as I could muster.  In a sense I feel I will always be listening these albums.  As is so common with trilogies, I find the second one to be the best.  I’m sure they receive their fair due – though anyone in that band was always going to be overshadowed by Hendrix’s fiery noodling – but I would like to say that bassist Noel Redding and drummer Mitch Mitchel are a fantastic and super skintight rhythm section.  Redding in particular has long been a huge inspiration for me.  I also appreciate the influence Hendrix had a vocalist as it is impossible to listen to folks like Bootsy Collins and Anthony Kiedis of Chilli Willi and the Red Hot Peppers sing and not hear Hendrix in every glistening note.  I think I’ll listen to some Tom Waits later on; real greasy music, real oily.  Then maybe I’ll go to IHOP and order some chocolate chip pancakes and a tall frosty glass of moo.  And holy hot shit but the 1969 album Stand! by Sly and the Family Stone is one awesome piece of work!  I recently learned the song Everyday People on the bass, Larry Graham is such a fucking whiz kid.  And just think: it only took me a decade to learn a bass line that is literally the same note over and over the whole song.  But damn is it ever a difficult note to play!  Thanks for the memories Sly.  

The new television program Supergirl premieres sometime this coming week and for the past several years now I’ve been grappling with myself over whether or not I should view this program.  Initially I had no interest in it whatsoever as I sadly never warmed to the television format.  Yet herein are a couple different lies because there are still literally thousands of shows I watch on a daily basis and I did have some interest in it because it relates to a superhero (although one that I’ve never been a huge fan of despite my love and adoration of Superman lore).  Generally speaking I don’t think the superhero shows have been too great (excluding cartoons) though I have not yet seen Daredevil and Flash and Agent Carter both seemed okay.  But stuff like Gotham is just so much hokey horseshit and I am constantly pissing my pants with fear that it will be another one of those.  Then the preview came out and looked quite atrocious but then all this positive buzz came out afterward so what the hell is I saying then?  I think I will record and then watch it 23 times in a row that I may finally formulate an opinion.  What was the tipping you are no doubt screaming at the top of your iron lungs?!  Well, it was the news that fan-favorite character Red Tornado was going to be making an appearance.  I do appreciate that the show’s aesthetic seems unafraid to be unabashedly comic book like (similar to The Flash).  And I like that the tone isn’t all dull and dark and maybe the show will capture that glorious feeling of drinking a freshly squeezed glass of lemonade.  Its hip mythology so what the hell, I’ll give it a go!  I’m always horrible about predicting success or lack thereof in TV shows and movies but I have a hard time seeing this be successful on CBS and will be shocked to the core if it lasts a full season and will have a massive heart attack if it gets a season 2.  I guess they’re hoping for a SHIELD type of success thing, maybe, I don’t know.  I think it would have been better to go to the CW where there is already Arrow, Flash and soon to be Legends of Tomorrow.  But what the shit do I know?!  That’s why I’m just a punk with a laptop and they’re the ones calling the shots.  I have a darker, more sinister, more fetishized reason for watching this show but I dare not reveal it here and now.  Maybe one day though.  I will tell you in another life when we are both cats.  

Like billions worldwide I saw the new and possibly final trailer for Star Wars The Force Awakens during a recent game of the always uninteresting American football.   It looked bright and shiny and super well-polished and without much of any personal stamp to it which is oddly a hallmark of director J.J. Abrams but I’m not sure what to say or think.  I frequently complain and moan (and groan!) over the state of blockbusters in this humble decade and I know it grows tiresome to everyone except myself because I love the sound of my own voice more than anything save for G2 which is easily the greatest drink ever known to man (though it is badly overrated).  Still, I must speak: Does this new Star Wars flick not look exactly like the old ones only with updated special effects; replete with a trifecta of folks that can easily be equated to new versions of Luke, Han and Leia and a Darth Vader look and sound alike villain with his own death machine and storm troopers?  Is repetition all anyone wants anymore with big flicks?  Must every superhero movie be the same?  Every epic fantasy?  Every Star Wars romp?  Is this it?  This is the way the fucking world ends, look at this fucking shit we’re in man!  Granted, I haven’t seen the movie yet and I hope I’m proven wrong.  I can already hear some folks leaving the theatre saying it was the best movie ever made and I am happy they are happy but…is this all there is?  Mindless, meaningless repetition.  At this point I think the future standalone Star Wars flicks have a better chance of being more interesting than this new trilogy.  That’s right!  I’m that foolish internet person judging and slagging stuff before it’s released and spreading hate and discontent.  I hide behind the sheen of computerdom because I am fat and ugly and impotent.  I hate myself so much.  Why don’t I just kill myself already?!  Spare the world a lot of grief.  Heck, I’ll still be there opening weekend though, ready and eager to give anyone head who has the courage to ask.  If it’s good I’ll go back and watch it 17 times, bringing my plastic bucket along because you can’t watch a thrilling and bombastic space opera without a large Coke Classic and hot margarined popcorn with extra Epsom Salt!  I do want to genuinely apologize to all the Wars fans out there.  I don’t mean to be so damned negative.  I hope this new trilogy makes you very happy.  What does my opinion matter anyway?  I’m just a pawn in a rough game.  Just a stray.  

I tried to save my shit but my shit keeps shitting.   

Tammie the mother's thoughts

One of these days I’m gonna haul off and slap him.  I am talking about the boy and say this to my husband the old bastard who has not touched me – I mean really touched me – in a very long time, too long to remember even.  I think he may be fucking other women and this tears me up inside but I don’t know what to fucking do about it.  What is it about me that he looks at me and just automatically sees the word shit everywhere?

  
I hate my children.  I know my children all hate me but I also know that is not my fault.

 
You can all just go rot in hell. I say that to the old bard and the boy.  They are both disgusting things.  Maybe on the way home from work tomorrow I’ll be hit by a car and die.  Then they’ll both see how good they had it.  All those bitches at work.  I hate them so much and then I have to come home to this shit. 

I know all he wants is someone to cook for him and clean up after him.  What a bastard.  And you, you ungrateful little shit, all you want is someone to take you places and buy you things.  Don’t be surprised if one of these days I just pack my bags and leave.  

Why aren’t they on their knees and pleading?  Why aren’t they apologizing over and over and telling me how great I am and how they’ll treat me better and that I deserve so much more? 

 
Is there blood pooling between my legs again?  Would anyone like to taste it?

If you talk to me like that ever again you will be out of my life forever.  I love to threaten the boy.  Maybe I’d like him to stick it inside of me.  Would that be so wrong?  We’re fucking family after all?  Family always needs to stick together.  Are you going to deny God?   Don’t talk to me about you’re stupid fucking beliefs because you don’t know shit.  Dumb kid.  

I’m sorry.  I didn’t mean it.  I really didn’t.  I swear.  Why do I do that to him?  Why do I always talk to him like that?  Why did I hit him?  I really didn’t mean to, I swear it.  Please forgive me God.  Please have patience with me son.  I didn’t mean it, I promise.  You don’t deserve that.  I’ll be better.  I’ll buy you something.  Whatever you want.  What was it you saw at the store the other day?  I’ll get that for you.  Let’s go there right now.  

I hope you’re fucking happy for this fucking mood you put me in!  I’m going to send the boy to talk to him.  That old bastard can believe what he wants.  His fucking bitch of a mother never liked me.  They can both go rot in hell.  I can use the boy to make her look bad.  I’m not giving him a cent for her fucking funeral.  Knowing that bitch, she’ll want the most expensive casket, the most expensive service, every fucking thing and I’m not spending my hard earned money on that shit.  That spoiled rotten little shit can go talk to him and he’ll see what a stupid fuck his own mother is.  I laugh when I send the boy.  Maybe he’ll feel some of the old bastard’s wrath.  He deserves it; he talks back to me way too much.

The boy’s afraid of me.  I can see it in his eyes.  The louder I scream and the more I push the more afraid he is.  I love that.  I love the way he turns pale when I start to scold him for something, when he can see how bad it is going to get.  Little coward shit.  Dumb kid.  Then I play so put upon when that old bastard treats me like shit.  He sees the word shit written all over me.  But the boy is rightly afraid.  I’ve made him cry.  How many times?  I’m not sure but I know he’s deserved more.  It’s good to see him cry now and then and see him show some fucking respect.  What’s that?  Yeah, I think I do feel just a little wet when it happens, when I’m yelling I can feel it too, that nice little stirring right down there.  The old bastard never does it for me anymore but this is nice.  

You little shit, you are so fucking ungrateful for everything.  All I do for you and this is how you treat me.  You are going to be so sorry one day for how you treated me.  I don’t give a fuck if it is you’re birthday.  You are just one fucking disappointment after another.  I’m not jealous of my other kids!  You can go live with that bitch any fucking time you want.  Ungrateful little shit.  Dumb kid. 

You’re going to hell.  You lied to me and liars go to hell.  You lied to your fucking mother you fucking stupid kid and you’re going straight to hell.  What an ungrateful piece of shit.  Most kids would die to have a mother like you do.  I never treated my parents this way.  

You are not the parent you ungrateful little shit!  I can talk to you however the hell I want!  You just sit your ass down and take it.  Let me throw this at the boy.  I love throwing things at him instead of handing it to him.  He is just like a fucking dog.  I throw something at him and he’ll run and chase it, groveling and sad.  Always whining, always crying.  You look so fucking ugly.  Just a dumb kid.  And that old bastard.  Neither one of them know how good they have it.  I think I won’t talk to them for a week.  Yeah, that’s it.  Then they’ll realize what they’ve been missing and see how much they need me.  

I don’t talk much about my own mom with them.  She must have been quite a raving bitch though, am I right?  

Shall I bathe in piss tonight?

I am repulsive and disgusting.  I am not a woman.  I am an it, an ugly miserable fucking it.  At least that’s what someone else thinks.  I know they’re wrong.  I will know everyone is wrong until the day I die.  

Wish I had a ghost dog

I was happier than a coprophagiac about to chow down on a big bowl of fresh steaming shit to recently learn that El Rey Network’s seminal program Lucha Underground is coming back for a second season in early 2016.  Those who know me best know of my deep unhealthy love for professional wrestling in all its many forms.  Actually, that’s not quite true: I’ve never been a fan of the literally bloody hardcore matches nor the type of women’s matches that become excessively vulgar or tawdry.  However all other types have provided endless hours of entertainment for yours truly and I can safely say Underground features the best wrestling I’ve seen in at least a (largely wasted) decade!  I pray a blu ray release of the first season is released that I may feature it at my annual wrestling party this year; all are invited!  Relatedly, I recently watched a Lucha Libre Unida match online which featured Sadica la Ultraviolenta (the most violent luchadora in Mexico), what a great worker.  She could put anyone over!  How I’ve longed for her lock me in reverse headscissors while laughing at me and taunting me, telling me what a pathetic loser I am (all in her native Spanish of course).   Her sexiness makes me burst into tears as it reminds me of all my inadequacy.  I need her in my life.  Would you be my wife?  I have countless bootleg copies of her matches and I watch them every night before passing out on my bourgeois sofa.  I’ve also been meaning to purchase some Resistance Pro matches for years now.  Billy Corgan’s recent and excellent shoot interview made me want them even more.  Please someone buy me every single one for Christmas and you will have a backstabbing friend for life! 

I’ve been on a mammoth Spike Lee kick lately and have watched 9 of his movies this week and ordered a few more to fill in the glistening well-lubricated holes in my collection.  Though it might not be the popular choice I would say Summer of Sam is my favorite of the feature  films of his I’ve seen (that includes the typical odds-on critical darlings like Malcolm X and Do the Right Thing and the mainstream greats like Inside Man and The 25^th Hour but boy howdy, they’re all fucking good!).  His last flick – Da Sweet Blood of Jesus – was a messy and challenging work and I await with bated breath the upcoming release of his new joint Chiraq.  I understand why his films sometimes piss people off to no end and wish more filmmakers would take such chances and be as bold with their voice. 

I have been jamming hardcore lately to David Bowie’s 1973 album Aladdin Sane.  The follow-up to the classic The Rise and Fall of Ziggy Stardust and the Spider From Mars, this one enjoys a slightly less celebrated reputation than it’s big brother but I dare say the rewards it offers are just as fulfilling to those who seek it out.  Drive In Saturday will forever be my jam, especially when the bombs drop and I’m left with nothing but the music but every track rips my face off.  If I had any guts at all I’d learn the entire album on bass guitar and then go out and play it naked during a hail storm.  Seriously, the playing on this album is top notch.  And the vocals!  Cripes, just listen to Panic in Detroit!  I have a special connection with that song as people often tell me I look like Che Guevara and because I panic a lot (though admittedly, I’ve never been to Detroit).  Also, Fijacion Oral Vol. 1 by Shakira has come back to the top again, such a beautiful album.  And I’ve been crushing mad on Public Enemy these past couple days; need to get their new live record and Blu-ray!  It Takes a Nation of Millions to Hold Us Back and Apocalypse 91…The Enemy Strikes Back are urban slabs of awesome, they make me want to saw my own arm off and slap my face with it due to their intense greatness.  What a mainstream piece of shit I am! 

 
Halloween is finally upon us dear children!  What are everyone’s favorite scary movies and books?  Does anyone have any suggestions?  Any hip new and terrifying shit I need to check out?  I started reading a book by Donna Tartt called The Secret History the other day.  It is a shockingly rich and satisfying work, thankfully reminding me how glorious books can be.  I have read many books that started strong and turned to poop though so I will keep you dear fans updated as I go along.  But after 200 pages it is one of the best things I’ve ever read! Please keep it up, book!  But yes, please suggest some good terrifying movie and book stuff down below.  And no found footage flicks; horseshit I say! Unless you insist it is truly amazing (though I probably won’t believe you). 

Prying (and rather dangerous) minds have been asking why I’ve been smiling so much lately.  I can safely say it’s been a recent switch in toothpastes.  All my miserable and worthless life I’ve been a Colgate man but just the other day, on a complete whim, I purchased Crest Fluoride Anticavity Toothpaste which came replete with tartar protection whitening.  Brushing my teeth with this cool mint paste is like having a daily wintry party in my mouth.  Subsequent to this dental hygienic revelation I don’t know how I could possibly go back to any other brands.  It made me wonder what else I’ve been missing out on all these years. 

Everyone who is exactly like me needs to run out and see The Duke of Burgundy right this very second.  So great and possibly the sexiest movie I’ve ever seen.  All others need not apply and should probably do something else like eat a banana split or go white water rafting!  

I like to listen to Scott Walker’s last four albums while I work.  It puts me in a very terrifying state of mind.  His 1995 album Tilt is a particular favorite of mine and I adore that it came out the same year as 1.Outside by David Bowie which is one of my favorite albums of all time.  I would die for that album and have already reserved my copy of the deluxe vinyl scheduled to come out this upcoming Black Friday despite the fact that I do not own a record player.  Amazing and haunting works.  David Lynch’s Lost Highway also came out around this time and its connection to the latter album delights me in my declining years.  

I was just reminded the other day how much I love The Fragile.  I think I’ll listen to it 59 times in a row while eating bowls of Count Chocula cereal. Then I’ll throw a pair of pantyhose over my head and watch old episodes of Elvira’s Movie Macabre.  Please someone help me. 

Criterion blu ray releases for Mulholland Dr., The American Friend and Lady Snowblood guarantee I will be drooling in front of my television while simultaneously masturbating and doing jumping jacks for many future hours.  They need to give the rest of my favorite movies the Criterion treatment and I’ll never sleep a wink! 

 
I recently watched Guillermo Del Toro’s newest flick Crimson Peak in theatres.  It is almost a certainty that I will view it again on the big screen but you should not interpret that as me saying I liked it but you also shouldn’t interpret that as me saying I didn’t not like it.  

I’ve watched the Cubs lose their asses off these first two games and all I can do is hope for a better tomorrow.  What else can I say?  I mean really, what else can I fucking say?  Fuck, I just don’t know what to do?  Maybe I’ll just drink poison.  

O (Part 8 of 10)

I wake up and I am nothing but a ball of hatred.

What an uncomfortable realization: that I do not understand anyone in the slightest. The lovely world has set fire to brain. Are we all fucked or is it just me?  No one has time anymore but that’s pure bullshit. No one simply wants to make time anymore. I don’t think I can last very long. My will is simply not up to the task. 

I have a recurrent fantasy wherein I murder myself. Please understand, I am not talking about suicide, not at all. In this glorious imagining I am somehow two versions of myself and one is able to murder the other. It is a holistically unique experience as I am able to feel the supreme satisfaction of my life ending and – perhaps more unique still- to feel the joy of being the instrument of my own well deserved extermination. It is a surely a fantasy of pure egoism but that’s just the kind of selfish bastard I am. 

I keep wishing you would rot in hell and this grim desire is doing me no good at all. Tsk tsk, finger wag at me. Words are swords and shields and they can be both in a single sentence and they are the greatest liars and the best of friends. There are two of you and two of me and that piano solo is growing ever more desperate and makes me scream when all else disappears and I am left alone in cold darkness. 

True beauty is an intensely frightening thing and I want to drown inside of it. The tears from your eyes that fell on the pillow, I want to swim in those. The skies will be purple and the moon made of ice. I don’t understand any of it. 

Am I pro-life when it comes to dying? What an unusual question. Does anyone think anymore? I can’t help but detest the physicality of everything. Lasers keep shooting off inside my head and I feel there is something terribly wrong. Everything at our fingertips is so dirty. We are truly pathetic and disgusting things and I feel a great swell of pity for those who refuse to see this. I feel even worse for those who take pride in their depravity. My only solace comes from knowing that eventually they all end up miserable, hugging crumpled dollars and clinging to memories of old orgasms. I am a small yellow beast and I have not been fed in so long. 

There is only one glimmer of purity and I must allow this illusion.

There is never a moment where we are not clinging to some type of illusion in order to survive. I found everything in the blue and black. Those piano keys cry out again and I see you so tender and loving and I kneel to this precious gift. You are the only one who has ever given back. 

That star scares me so much. There’s a storm happening. I can see it right there on the surface. You can see it too. I wonder how deep it goes and how many thousands of miles it stretches on. And when did it begin? I sense it started at the beginning of time during that terrible and wonderful violent burst of creation. This is the center of everything and the horrible truth that resides on that star in the center of that storm would surely drive me insane in an instant. I wonder if I would die screaming. I wonder you. 

I would love to drown inside of…. 

Your tears are strange and wonderful living metaphysical things. Joyous and desperate and uncontrollable, at turns elated and devastated pieces of your soul they create living lakes of emotion. When my naked body and face is inside of them I am overwhelmed by everything you have every felt and the otherworldly beauty inside of you. 

Such utter indifference to my comings and goings. That is the best tonic to add to any drink. Coursing through my veins is the exact elixir necessary to reach those highest of plateaus. And all these flowers in front of my eyes don’t realize how good they have it. I suspect I shall be coming to a bitter end very soon. Oh God, every time it is night and I have to look at the sky and I see that star my body is assaulted by a wave of pure cataclysmic panic. The center of everything. Your smile is the great herald of my death. 

Things are slowly collapsing all around and from your hands come the glow of a new creation. The Saints are lining the streets and incantations are in order. I see you at the head and your hallowed garb makes perfect sense; only fringes of your coal-black hair are visible now, beauty guarded by beauty. You prophesize and look inside of me and for a moment I am no longer ugly. I feel such peace when you touch me. People scream in the streets but I pay them no attention. Their blood is as meaningless as the lives they gave up. And I am no better. I never was. You tell me the world is going to be set on fire and you tell me by whom and the reason why. But you tell me not to be scared and embrace me. I don’t understand anything anymore except this comforting warmth. 

At some other point I wake up alone in my bed - calmer, no longer screaming inside - and I take a drink from the bottle on the nightstand. I record myself saying some meaningless things and then stare at the river outside the window. I shower, shave and put on a nice suit and have another drink so I can face all those meaningless things out there and so they can face me.

I see you at the dance. Blue dress. Hair up. Red lipstick. The only beautiful person here or anywhere. 

Me: “Let me ask you something, why’d you come here tonight?”

Her: “You first.”

“To see you.”

“That’s lovely. And I really wish I could say the same.”