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!  

Strength augmenting potions and the rich perfume of performance (please let me....!!!)

I’d be a fool to deny that Lorde’s tribute was far and away superior to that of Lady Gaga.  I’m not even a Lorde fan and I actually love Lady Gaga, owning and regularly listening to all her records.  But I still have to admit it.  I loved seeing that band present and the photographs on the screens.  Mostly, I just liked that she opted for one song – rather than a wretched medley (me hate medleys, too Vegasy) and stayed in one outfit that had a clear era attached to it.  I also quite liked that she did not try to mimic Bowie’s voice and instead sang it with her own flair and character.  It was an elegant tribute.  Please forgive me for stating my opinion.  Little Mix’s performance was also quite excellent and that tune Black Magic is a deliriously catchy sugar rush; let it fill your senses and bring a little sunshine to your (meaning my) miserable life!  And Jesy Nelson!  Jeeze!  That’s all I can say!  Holy moly!  I guess I had more to say than I thought, more than “jeeze”!

Though it appears this particular performance was not without its share of controversy.  This leads me to question whether it is possible for anything – even something as harmless as a performance by a pop group on an awards show – to exist in this horrible day and age without sparking controversy and making somebody irate.  

It seems the reasons for this divisiveness are twofold: 1. The appropriation of the multicolored Mexican sugar skull as a giant prop on stage and 2. The gals lip syncing the chorus (though the verses were clearly sung live).  I will address each of these complaints with my own irrelevant thoughts and opinions that will likely not shed light on anything or even serve to be remotely interesting.  

Sugar skulls: This image is of particular importance and interest to me and I can understand why some folks would be upset by its offhanded use in their performance.  It is a symbol that has special significance to many people and consequently this could be taken as a sign of disrespect.  However I see nothing to suggest any intentional disrespect and it seems far more likely that they or a production unit simply thought it was a cool, hip and boss image (which it was).  I myself am already desensitized as I see sugar skulls everywhere – from people’s offices, to classrooms to all kinds of questionable stores – so I was not taken aback by the image.  I guess I don’t really have anything to say, sorry readers but I warned you!  Must we be offended by everything though?!  It looked hip!  I say sugar skulls should be used more often in all aspects of life! 

On a side note, I want to say that when I knew nothing about this group aside from learning the title of this single – Black Magic – I instinctively recoiled, thinking this was going to be another situation where a song by a big pop star supposedly has political or deep topical lyrics that apply to an artist’s heritage/cultural background which is suddenly so high on their list of priorities (despite the fact that writing the lyrics themselves would be too much of an imposition) so I was actually delighted to find that they are really discussing black magic in the classic sense of the occult, shamanism and witchcraft, in many ways not too dissimilar to the recent film The Witch (fantastic film by the way) and having far more parallels to Santana’s (Peter Green’s) classic Black Magic Woman as it discusses the amorous spells these comely ladies use to essentially enslave a man.  If I can be lecherous for a moment I dare say they’ve no need to resort to ostensibly satanic pacts and witchcraft if they wish to win the hearts of red-blooded males, especially if they wear the outfits they wore during the awards show.  Fishnets!  Oh please after the performance just let me….

  
Lip syncing: This is another thing that’s really not such a big deal.  Many times at big spectacle shows like this – morning talk shows or the Superbowl are good examples – artists can’t always play or sing live due to the technological restraints of the venue.  It could be as simple as that.  Though it is perhaps odd that the verses could be sung live and not the chorus though this could be down to wanting perfect harmonies on those infectious melodies in the interest of gaining the most new fans possible on the strength of this single.  Make no mistake: for the group, this was all about promotion, big promotion and perhaps they did not want to risk the slick song craft.  Rock can be a bit raw but pop is typically at its sharpest when at its glossiest.  At the same time I can certainly understand why fans would be upset.  The feeling must be closest to disappointment and I know I felt something similar when Shakira was lip syncing the chorus to Empire on The Voice a couple years ago.  It is disconcerting when an artist you love seems to sacrifice artistic integrity for the sake of ratings or for something as empty and pandering as an awards show.  Yet, that’s exactly what this was: an awards show and an event where it is expected for artists to make as big a splash as possible.  To that end I’d say mission accomplished though I’d be curious to see if they sing the chorus live during general live performances.  And rest assured I will be watching many videos of this group in the interest of data collection.  Great song though, fantastic pop! 

So overall I guess I would say both of these issues are just more cases of folks overreacting for no reason.  We all need something to complain about.  

I may not view Se7en as Fincher’s greatest film (that unequivocally goes to Zodiac) but it is shockingly close and over 20 years on the movie has lost none of its magic and force despite the millions of unworthy imitators.   The chase scene in the middle is still one of the best I’ve ever seen and one of the few which truly presents a sense of anything-can-happen danger.  On a completely unrelated note, Lacey Sturm’s new solo album Life Screams sounds intriguing and I may need to check it out should I ever poke my head out of my metaphorical shell and venture out into this great wide world.  

My comments yesterday regarding Arrow and Breaking Bad proved exceedingly controversial and I received scores of hate mail and more than one death threat!  Television fans are a rather intense bunch but I suppose I cannot fault them for their zeal and passion.  We all need to find a reason why we have to die.  I have two episodes left in Arrow season 2 and I must say it has proven to be one of the most thrilling seasons of television I’ve ever viewed in my worthless life.  That is not to say it was perfect – it actually has numerous flaws – but the overall drive of the thing has continued to grow more and more involving and thrilling.  Slade and Brother Blood were/are excellent villains and that arc was the necessary stakes-raising backbone which made this superior to season 1 (which I also quite liked).  I plan to binge on season 3 as soon as I can make it to the doctor to donate blood that I may then hitchhike on down to ye olde conglomerate and purchase the blu ray! 

Of course seeing Gary Oldman is always pure pleasure.  The greatest of his kind?  Very possibly.  

Now that she escaped the moth...PLEASE!!!

You know, I really do love Tim Burton’s 1989 film Batman.  I must have watched that movie around twenty thousand times give or take.  I also love both the score by Danny Elfman and the soundtrack by Prince.  That Prince album is a bit divisive amongst the devoted followers of his work but I would call it one of my faves.  Perhaps that is because of its connection to the feature film but I find it to be possessed of a lighter, more mischievous spirit which was perhaps necessary after the beautiful but very heavy Lovesexy.  The Batman album has some great loose funk and it’s a disc I can consistently listen to from beginning to end.  And the film itself is just a fantastic piece of pop art; Burton had such a clear understanding and vision for the iconography and it still remains far more daring than a huge amount of the superhero flicks which have come after.  However, despite my love of this movie those who know me best know I actually prefer Burton’s 1992 sequel Batman Returns roughly twelve billion times more and  would likely select it as my favorite movie of all time.  Gosh, I just love feature films, I love the cinema!  What can I say?!  I mean, what can I fucking say at this point?!  

I was rather late to the game because I’m a simpering fool but I finally acquired and actively listened to Raekwon’s 2015 album Fly International Luxurious Art and found it to be a top shelf release full of the gritty and evocative stories for which the Chef is known.  Despite the lack of RZA, the production and beats are largely on point and lay the dark ambience for Rae’s grim and glam narratives.  When not listening to that I suppose I’ve been listening to Aladdin Sane a lot.  I love Aladdin Sane.  

Oh how he wishes she would just put him in that headlock until he passes out.  Is that not what he craves every single day?  

So I’m watching two shows fairly regularly right now and by regularly I mean I’m behind the times and playing (Heinz) catch-up and those two shows are Arrow and Breaking Bad (notice I put them in alphabetical order for all you letters fans out there).  Would it be controversial to say I’m not sure which program I enjoy more?!  I think somehow it would be controversial.  People have very unusual ideas about television shows and are rather protective about what they like.  I guess I can appreciate that; nothing wrong with being passionate about something.  Though sometimes I feel that very passion blinds them to some pretty fundamental problems.  I can’t say I’ve ever found a non-episodic television show that did not have problems with pacing, characters making contrived decisions and storylines being needlessly stretched out.  Arrow and Breaking Bad both have these problems and neither is perfect though you know what?!  Right now as I am nearly finished with Arrow season 2 and about halfway through Breaking Bad season 4 I prefer Arrow.  That’s just the way it is.  For now.  But I will say I enjoy both shows.  I’m allowed to enjoy both programs, right?  Please tell I am allowed to do so!  

That strange book rested on the corner of the mantle.  It lay open and its ancient pages were yellowed and brittle.  He had not been able to understand much in that book; the text was largely a mystery and it was full of bizarre symbols.  He was on knees and could feel sweat beading down his face.  His heart threatened to explode and the panic was so intense he was sure to vomit very soon.  The not quite human thing before him had both male and female genitalia, each sex somehow three times larger that whatever could possibly be considered normal. 

   
The days are all melting again and it is very difficult to make sense of anything.  I need something tangible.  Everyone is slipping away much quicker than I expected.  I was just there the other night and it was quite shameful.  I bore witness to a jolly orgy.  Yes, right there on the unclean floor writhed and moaned a couple dozen folk and the fuckery continued for several hours.  I frequently have to stop what I’m doing and wonder how we all became so repulsive.  We let far too many things inside our bodies these days.  Oh, I suspect your eyes are reading with delight.  There is happiness in your heart for all these grave misfortunes and how could I begrudge anyone that?  Don’t forget your lucky deck.

Again, day in (day out) I am struck by how much time we devote to things we don’t care about.  Does no one else see this as an issue?  Is this truly what was intended?  It is so hot inside our prisons.  We are all dropping off and soon enough there will be nothing left.  How did this time come so soon?  Temptation stands in the way of everything.  Let’s all forgive and forget.  Let’s not worry about any predatory tendencies.  Why must we discuss anything?  Hate, nothing but blinding hatred.  I am an ugly thing.  

This darkness was founded by dogs.  As the interiors continue to evolve in a most grey fashion (turn to the left!).  Who is this guy?  I can’t answer any of these questions.  I am the ugly king of nothing.  These convenient individuals.  You are too scared to go off on your own.  You rebel against it but it is the only thing that makes you happy.  It’s just a cultural difference.  Nothing is truly evil.  It’s all just a difference in perspective.  I was found on a meteorite.  This life started out under a rock.  I think I’ll drink another bottle of champagne, thank you very much.  Eva says the word champagne so beautifully.  The war in the Corto Maltese is so distressing; I can’t stop thinking about it.  Some would even say she has two eyes.  I’m meeting someone later on who wants to see examples of my black and white photography.  I am fucking drained.  How do we get away with being so disappointing? 

I will be tuning into Lucha Underground tonight.  Before and after the program I will likely be reflecting upon my own tortured uselessness but for that 60 minute span of time in between I will exist in an increasingly rare state of happiness.  Do I dare hope that...?

I keep finding out that everyone is actually miserable.  

My civil tights are being violated!

I finished the aforementioned text and found it to be so spectacular I’m not sure how I survived so long without it.  Lust may be the operative word; it is too difficult to say.  I don’t want to count anything.  There was green inside of red and that is disguising it far too much, it’s really doing it a disservice.  I live on my back.  I think I can relate to the overall sentiment as I would also feel great peace at those approving chants and cries during the final moments.  That is merely the very first to be crossed off the list though there shall be many others.  

This morning I sipped steaming hot black coffee out of a mug emblazoned with the Oakland Athletics logo.  Baseball season is starting soon and my excitement is reaching a fever pitch!  While drinking said coffee and consuming a well-balanced breakfast I also viewed the ostensible season finale of The X-Files.  

Very soon it will be time for to venture out of my little bubble that I may plunk down copious amounts of cash to purchase items I don’t necessarily need.  You know, I’ve been listening a lot to the Wu Tang Clan lately in between deep bouts of self-loathing.  I vividly recall being in the multiplex 7 years ago when a fight broke out between an adolescent and a grown man.  Later on, I realized I hated them both, and in ways that were not too dissimilar.  I am feeling quite dizzy while I type all of this and only have a vague idea as to why.  Such pity, I feel such pity.  How is it possible we are all devoting ourselves to things we do not care about?  Please, afterward I will post a happy photo of myself online and this will make everything better.  I fear my chest may explode at any moment.  

No one quite understands the power being wielded in these moments.  Hate is being spread out over the sky and right there on our TV screens.  Oh, why must we subscribe to so much high school philosophy?  Please show me what cultures you were talking about, please enlighten me because I am clearly too stupid to understand.  This is not about the simple transference of a virus; you are thinking far too small.  I’ve never been in charge of anything in my life but I know enough to know that these ancient texts we’ve brazenly ignored are going to be the source of quite a bit of turmoil.  Is it a terrifying book?  It must be so great to think so small without a care in the world.  And then you may cry yourself to sleep at night for how deeply misunderstood you are.  What pathetic things we are when we desperately seek out these meaningless connections and then how we cling to them while wasting every passing moment of our lives.  Let’s not jump into bed right now with psychics.  We are approaching a critical juncture and there is another coming and I am not sure I am going to be around subsequent to his/her arrival.  

I honestly don’t know what to expect anymore, especially with this recent smear campaign.  Or would it be more accurate to call it a full blown conspiracy?  I want to believe things can be truly great.  If that is not possible I suspect I will be nearly as happy if it is an overblown, problematic, overly ambitious, doesn’t quite work, bombastic fascinating pop epic.  We shall see.  Ultimately, it may just come and go and leave nothing more than a pit of indifference in my stomach.  

One day he is going to wake up and no longer be able to hide the fact that he is deeply unhappy.  But he won’t be able to understand why he is unhappy.  Someone else will understand though, perfectly.  And that individual will be all too happy to explain why should he politely ask.

It’s so cold.  The ranging squires of dance that parade inside the mines of hallowed shadows.  My face is disappearing like sex in the desert and the world keeps spinning while flesh is rejoiced.  I’ve not been able to guide the transcendental principles that apply to the various green ruptures under the rich shade of newfound wealth.  All I can do is express disappointment to the unusual men who previously ventured into mechanical jungles where inside the gold bars were so evenly discovered taxonomic blades and infrequent departments of nutritional justice.  Oh the trails inside my mouth, I need someone to unscrew my brain.  Pretty please mommy?!  

Maybe I am looking forward to the R-rated cut!  One thing is for sure: I need to listen to more albums by Elvis Costello, Flaming Lips, Run the Jewels, a guy named Klaus and GZA.  Whatever, I don’t know what I’m doing anymore.  They ask me not to talk.  Oh, we are such pathetic ugly things.  Please let us lie around and binge and pretend the hardest we can.  This is awful, it is all so awful.  I think Thalia’s albums make me feel better most of the time.  Thankfully, I’m reading a book by Clive Barker these days.  I think when I grow up I’ll be morbidly obese and raise lovable dogs that I will subsequently sell on the streets to worthy families (though at admittedly inflated prices).  

The butterfly came from inside the sun and destroyed my senses.  Proffering a dark liquid afterward, I could not help but feel elated by the reproach.  My eyes were wandering beasts and I never sought to shield myself from the glass traps.  There was a monster inside of him while the others cheered and rallied.  It no longer looks like me.  Nothing is the same as it was before.  I think we are sitting in a white room somewhere.  From inside the sun, where all the gears and parts were slowly going to waste.  This is a rare moment of beauty.  Please, he does not want to destroy anything anymore.  Please just let him stay in his room.  Why does everyone keep talking to me?  Can’t they all just leave me alone?

Ghetto man is inside the hawk and I no longer understanding a fatherfucking thing!  

[Thank you C.W. (not the channel, or is it?!)]

We don't like the honest characters

I wonder if it is some sort of Indian magick that has done this to me.  An ancient strain.  Somewhere deep in the very back and very dark recesses of his mind there awaits the seedling of an idea, something which hasn’t quite hatched yet but perhaps with the aid of ancient texts with thousands of tiny words printed on brittle and yellow pages these secrets may be unlocked.  I found myself in a mostly darkened room last night surrounded by people which may or may not have been strangers to me.  We were all wearing burgundy masks, only occasionally lifting them halfway to sip richly aromatic drinks from sifters.  My garb was a traditional suit; the majority of the predominantly male audience wore the same.  There was a bit of smoke and then music but I could not locate speakers.  Strange sounds and incantations, they echoed.  Some of them were already becoming visibly excited.  Red curtains were pulled backk to reveal a woman who danced and then disrobed.  Her body was in fine shape but nothing remarkable.  She also wore a mask though it was more of a sack with crude eyeholes cut out.  There was a tattoo on her shoulder but I could not exactly make it out.  As she began to insert a long metal rod inside herself she simultaneously chanted something in a language I did not recognize.  Periodically, she would giggle like a school girl.  I was not quite sure what to think.  Those around me began to light candles and I noticed one in the arm rest of my seat as well.      

My shitty region free Korean copy of Abel Ferrara’s 1995 movie The Addiction arrived in the mail today.  I love Ferrara’s films and The Addiction is a particular favorite so it’s a damn shame for yours falsely that there exists no American DVD or blu ray copy and the only one I could purchase has no supplemental material and is in full screen!  Is this enough for me to break my former vow and kill again?  Maybe.  After all, how long can a man stay silent before he returns to the thing he does best?  

I might be questioning the motivations and I am surely not the only one.  Fear was rampant in their glassy eyes, pointed toward the sky in their unerring disobedience.  Are these scurrilous rumors true, does it indeed have sinister backing?  If so, what does it mean that it may also have my support?  My love is an ugly deformed thing.  I fear very badly the idea that I may be floating above myself.  Please do not let it be so.  What sins are committed in the name of art?  Did I watch a recruitment video, crystal clear and not without moments of glory?  Did words meant to inspire only serve to terrify?  Am I in the hands of something very wrong?  Please let me take the right path.  

Sometimes one just needs that power to be exerted, is that correct?  Such delicious power.  Subjugation and degradation feel so delightful.  And we certainly do not measure time in the same way, do we?  The moon was speaking a great many things to us and I considered how the moon terrified me as a child.  Even now, I sometimes look up at the sky during the night and am filled with fear.  But before me now, this leather slipping from the body, crashing to the floor.  There is a strange ecstasy invading.  I am no longer in a simple realm of disobedience.  There are great dogs of prayer and their voices are a new and valuable weapon.  She makes commands and I follow orders.  It’s all on the tongue.  

I saw two feature films in the multiplex this week: Deadpool and another movie.  I liked one more than the other but I will not yet reveal which.  However my love for Gina Carano is as undying as ever and I shall be purchasing Extraction on blu ray disc this upcoming Tuesday despite having serious doubts as to its quality.

  
Carrie Rodriguez’s new album Lola sounds very promising.   Mayhaps I’ll have to snag a copy and give it a healthy listen.  I’d also like to listen to Kanye West’s new album at some point in the near future but I’ve no desire at all to subscribe to Tidal.  Fuck Jay Z!  Nah, I kid the Z man.  I was merely quoting the song Ether by Nas from his great 2001 album Stillmatic.  Nas has long been one of my favorite rappers and I frequently find his flow to be far superior to the more popular likes of Jay Z and Kanye West, which does not mean they are not great artists/rappers in their own right so don’t start sending me a bunch of hate mail (unless you plan on going through with what’s necessary).  I love the second half of “Heroes”.  Mother fuck fuck I just love it!  I love the first half too, good gravy!  I’ve just been crushing hardcore on the second half this week!  

I’ve been slowly but surely catching up, gotta love those ass-numbing marathon viewings!  I have fallen heel head over once more (here I go again, the cycle never ends, I just pray I don’t get burned)!  This time with none other than the daughter of the demon herself.  Nyssa.  She shot an arrow straight to my heart with her lethal first appearance.  

I saw her running once she wrestled free of the moth, another love renewed.  There is too much lately and his heart may be on the verge of exploding.  Scissors are still frequently on his brain.  And a strong denial of mercy even when he begs for it.  You are a strong symbol.  I am a very weak man.  Likely, I will end up as a photographer somewhere at the end of the world.  

There are strange supporters of evil right here in this very world.  Please do not promote anymore of your high school philosophy.  Why don’t we all go read a book?  I’ve often wished to have hair like Christopher Walken.  I’m going to start reading The Stranger by Albert Camus today or tomorrow.  Sports Illustrated huh?  I never have before, do I dare start now?!  I suspect there are some very improper eyes paying attention to my every word.  Oddly now more than ever before.  

I suspect we’ll meet again someday in a capital city; the prophecies were correct.