Dolphins are like rich chocolate cake (saw this on ivories, cherish)

The Bird With the Crystal Plumage is getting a slick hip cool awesome deluxe blu ray release this July!  That is a day one purchase for yours falsely.  I love that flick!  One of my favorite Giallos and could be my favorite Argento flick!  I’ll watch it in the hopes of forgetting what a worthless loser I am for a couple remastered hours.  But please give me a bluray of Don’t Torture a Duckling!  That’s my fucking favorite!  I will forever be grateful to Blue Underground for my DVD copy which I’ve watched on a daily basis for the past forty seven hundred years but I desperately want an upgrade!  I will do anything to make this happen, kill anyone.  Good ol’ Stadium Arcadium!  Hard to believe it’s been more than a decade since I bought that one and listened to it to death!  If only that death had been mine….

Please don’t ever leave me. No one would understand the charts except Scott.  Recently, it’s become even more shaved down.  I couldn’t agree more that we’ll make great pets.  I did not have that dream of hiding in the closet while two met entered our home and I was terrified that I would never see my parents again.  Were they men?  Planet Earth has a lot of special memories for me.  It the first I anticipated.  The first new that I went for and experienced in the same time/space continuum as everyone else.  Do you remember? I’m addressing that question to someone who does not read my work and hasn’t for quite some time.  You were with me through that unforgettable moment as I fished coins from my lint filled pockets and spilled them out all over the cold hard floor.  I begged for your help but you only turned your head away in frustration.  I understand.  A model used to be a role model.  Great memories.  I still love it.  I try to be unapologetic.  That bridge on the opening number.  I like that sound.  Airy.  Breathy.  Spacey.  Open.  

Reaction within the community has been hotly divided but I actually quite like Morris Day’s new song and find it to be a good, heartfelt tribute.  Is it cheesy?  Yes, but The Time always had a strong thick element of cheese which I maintain was a chief part of their appeal.  Word on the streets is that Day is prepping a solo album under Snoop Dogg’s label (this new song was produced by Snoop I hear or maybe I’m just disseminating erroneous information, as is my wont) and I will definitely check it out when it drops.  Then I’ll strip naked and dance a ballet or maybe eat a fruit cocktail (I ain’t too hungry).  

True to my word I have begun reading The Virgin Suicides.  It is not a very long book; I expect to finish it sometime this miserable week.  I enjoyed the first two chapters.  What more can a man in my position say?  I watched a lot of smoking videos today.  

I can’t think straight right now at all.  My brain is one fire (or is that my heart?).  Wheel turning.  She looks like Ecuador.  Yes, bright Ecuador!  I could not see The Jackal.  But maybe Ecuador.  Mother, forgive me. 

As is so often the case I was dead wrong about something in my last blog post.  I said Delfonics but what I should have said was Stylistics.  Technically I could still be considered right.  But I was also wrong.  Man, I’m stupid.  One slithering idiot!  The Most Beautiful Girl in the World.  I will always prefer the Experience.  Love em all.  But always the Experience is number one.  All time lush classic.  Summer.  Driving around.  Memories.  Life giving sun.  Love.  Colors everywhere.  Dreams.  

The Little Star is torturing me again.  But now there is a Puma in the mix as well. I am so impure. The Little Star fell from the sky in a flash of red and echoing screams and it was horrifying.  And then a return with a flash of gold this time.  We live in a world of influencers.  Why have we not been destroyed yet?  

What can I say; Lovesexy blew my fragile eggshell mind when I bought back in the great year of 1988.  I didn’t quite get it at first.  But slowly and surely I came to realize it was possibly the greatest thing I’d ever listened to in my utterly failed life.  

I’m going to read Ashley Graham’s book. I think.  Does that make me a bad person?  Who asks questions like that?  Stop asking stupid questions.  

I was not able to see that sweet debut of combat in person.  No, not in person, not live in the classical sense.  But later on.  I am proud.  Or am I pleased?  Or am I both?  Or neither?!  How worthy was the other.  And still, the desire was strong to know the one (girl) who held the ring.  I don’t know anything (why do we have to live in so much pain?).  I like New Power Soul a lot.  Isn’t that a great sentence?  I love the production, the fucking feel of it!  I wanna listen to it while driving around, maybe tomorrow!  I also like that one Black Flag album.  You know the one.  6-pack!  

You should be in a band in Ecuador.  That’s what I would say to you if I knew I you.  I had The Babadook on the in background at some point today.  I love that flick.  And of course La Nave de Los Monstruos.  Gamma and Beta own my heart.  Ana and Lorena.  Commandresses.  Oh, how I need you.  I wish I weren’t.  He realized that shadows collide with people more than people realize.  I am so sick, don’t make do it.  The other, better half of & Louise.  La Big.  But the one I know.  Better the devil you know.  She is like a giant piece of industrial machinery.  And then the beautiful ascent.  

But getting back to what I was saying earlier: Stadium Arcadium, oh the memories!  I gave you a flower.  A rose!  I purchased it a local grocery a dozen or so blocks away…next time I think….

You know, I also really like that album Up! by Shania Twain from way back in 2002.  It is so wonderfully glossy, polished and addictive (country) pop.  So many people misinterpreted the movie It Follows because they just skimmed the surface.  It is not about AIDS, STD’s, or even sex.  It is about the inherent meaningless of life and the horror which accompanies that all-consuming realization.  It makes sense that I was able to see this given how worthless I am.  

I am very thankful that I am rediscovering and reconnecting with Prince’s music.  It was not easy.  But it was very very necessary.  Thank You.  And thank you.  I Wish U Heaven.  

She is like The Jackal.  She is The Jackal.  Icons surround us.  The Little Star.  Ecuador.  Rhapsody in Blue.  All the languages spilling from her mouth.  Release need. 

Spot(A), that was not the word i wanted to use but it is almost a sort of close approximation

At the end times there will be a beautiful woman making guac one moment and in the next she will be gone.  The guac!  In all the cities!  In all the cities!  I drove around today and listened to the song Heart Shaped Box by Nirvana, slowly realizing I don’t really much like that song anymore but acknowledging it was applicable to The Guac Woman as we will be forever in debt to her priceless advice.  Are these the end times?!  Fascinating that there is the some 400 year break after the end of the Old and the beginning of the New.  And one ascended up in a wheel of fire.  Is The Guac Woman prophesizing to me?  To all of us?!  Please help me?!  I don’t know why I phrased that in the form of a question.  My ultimate hope is that she wears RHT pantyhose beneath her work pants along with classic black high heel pumps and at the end of a long hard, sweaty day of advice giving and guac making she kicks off her heels, fills them with thick freshly made guac and then slowly sticks her aromatic hosiery clad feet back inside her guacamole filled heels, making all manner of delightful squishy sounds and causing the glorious green guac to drip down the pumps and spill out onto the floor.  Then she could use my face as her footrest – occasionally verbally berating me by telling me how pathetic I am and forcing me to eat the nylon-clad-feet-sweat-infused guac off her adorable toes and lick it off her lovely arches – while also further prophesying and proffering more priceless advice!  

I recently finished The Secret Diary of Laura Palmer by Jennifer Lynch.  It definitely stands on its own as a disturbing, haunting and heartbreaking piece of work.  At the same time it also enriches the Twin Peaks mythology, particularly Fire Walk With Me (always my favorite piece of the Twin Peaks pie) and makes the ending of that particular work feel even more earned.  Though who knows what the future and Showtime may bring?! 

Ever since a couple days ago I’ve reacquainting myself with the Emancipation album, chiefly focusing on disc 1 (though disc 2 may be my favorite but I also love a lot of disc 3!).  Somebody’s Somebody is such a great beautiful, lush song, great listening in the middle of a rainy night.  I want to subliminally dedicate my listening of that song to a dear friend right now.  You know who you are!  Damn it, you know!  Get your head out of the mud baby!  That’s what Bono says on the title track of U2’s 1993 year album Zooropa!  Love that song!  Fucking love that album!  Real underrated!  Or is it?!  A key release in their catalogue.  I like that line because it’s a real polite way of saying pull your head out of your ass!  That’s what I want to say to that dear friend to whom I dedicated Somebody’s Somebody!  Pull your head out of your ass baby!  I want to listen to Get Yo Groove On right now.  I’ll listen to Emancipation (not sure which disc, maybe all of them tee hee!) and then I’ll listen to Zooropa!  Then I won’t want to die as much as I do right now, especially if I start hitting the sauce!  Tequila shots, boys!  And whiskey on the rocks!  Hey, that’s an AC DC song, from one of their lesser albums – 1995’s Ballbreaker.  That one was produced by Rick Rubin!  He produces everything!  I like the first song on that album.  Don’t remember too much else about it though I’d bet my miserable worthless life it sounds like every other AC DC album.  But with Rick Rubinesque production!  Rubinesque burlesque!  And Courtin’ Time!  Such a groovy, jaunty little thing!  And the Delfonics cover!  The Delfonics were heavily referenced in Jackie Brown, still my favorite Tarantino flick!  Maybe I’ll read the book!  Hell, maybe I won’t!  The Hateful Eight was real good too!  Whatever the fuck ever, huh?! 

I had the classic Spike Lee joint Do the Right Thing on in the background while I wrote all this crap.  I love Spike Lee joints.  Actually, I just realized what a blatant lie that was.  I had that joint on whilst I was reading.  While I was writing this crap I actually had on Michael Haneke’s creepy French flick Cache.  I love Cache.  It has stayed with me in big ways since I watched it so many years ago, alone in my post flat and wishing for death (how little things have changed).  It takes a big plot device from David Lynch’s Lost Highway (Haneke himself seems to acknowledge this given the name of one of the characters) though he does his own uniquely disturbing thing with that device before quickly veering off in a wildly different and rewarding direction.  I like the cover too.  All things became clear.  I like Juliette Binoche quite a lot.  

She was thinking of death as a companion she longed to meet.  How lovely.  

Kim Kardashian West seems like a very stupid person.  I’m not sure how I feel about those who watch her show(s?).  Great ass though!  What can I say?  Great ass!  I guess that makes it all okay.  Or does it?  The more I discover the less I want to know.  On an unrelated subject I love that movie I watched the other month.  We Are the Flesh!  It’s still rattling around inside my empty skull!  We are the flesh.  That is an affirmative statement.  

Very recently the realization was too clear to deny.  The source of my bitterness.  No, that’s not quite right.  That’s something separate.  But no, I judged you, them, him and/or her, thinking you were all a fool for not being as bitter as I, for still clinging to hope and for feeble whatever significance you ascribed to things.  Maybe I was the fool.  Probably.  Though I suppose it doesn’t matter as no one ever listens to me anyway.  Happy Earth Day everyone!  Don’t forget to earth it up!  Eat lots of dirt and rubbish!  That’s all we are anyway, just little pieces of dirt!  

I need to do more research (maybe even legal research!) but there seems to be no Biblical support for the rapture (in the Left Behind sense).  This seems to be something which came from a different source entirely and then through the years was somehow lumped into Protestant Christianity (maybe Catholicism too, I don’t know!)!  I must dig deeper!  If any of my readers believe in the rapture let me know in the comments below how ya’ll became so stupid!  

I miss you terribly.  Who am I even talking about anymore?  Kind of hard to do these things now that VCR’s have gone the way of the great and noble dodo.  

O?

please stop the ritual of slow, slow, slow/fast and then fast, i am so so sorry for everything me

Continuity from last time folks, I’m all about the continuity: I awoke today and it was Adamari’s legs which made my life worth living again, if only for one more day.  We can be heroes!  Just for one day.  I think I put Sara last time but I meant Sofia.  Why are you so stupid, I ask myself?!  That’s something my mother asked me on more than one occasion.  Like many questions, it remains unanswered.  Oh wait, I actually did it right!  But the question is still valid.  I think I want to read the book The Virgin Suicides.  Maybe I will.  Also, I really like the song Damned If I Do by The Artist Formerly Known As Prince from the Emancipation album.  I love that album.  The end of that song has a Santannaesque Latin jam that I totes dig!  I like to drive around with the windows down and that tune blaring!  I sometimes wonder if I am me or if I am actually a shape shifting space alien impersonating me.  The more I discover the less I want to know.  Oh, and I coincidentally I listened to that aforementioned song yesterday while riding around in my automobile.  Later that same night I spent several hours crawling around on my floor naked, licking myself and eating hair and lint to cough up later on while pretending I’m a cat.  

Just look at us.  What pathetic, ugly, stupid things we are.  Laughing, crying, fucking, not understanding a thing.  We are not what was intended.  What small sad lives we all lead.  Where is the meteorite I was promised?!  Please continue to fake it though.  You grew up.  You’re happy. 

You know, I gotta admit: it did look good in certain shots but on the whole I do not like the Batman suit in The Dark Knight and The Dark Knight Rises.  It’s just too fucking busy and segmented and plasticcy and unnecessarily complicated and bulky and clunky and weird.  I just don’t like it.  I’m sorry.  I much much prefer the suit from Batman Begins and the suits from the 2 Tim Burton movies.  I would likely even prefer the suits from Batman Forever and Batman and Robin (not the ones they wore at the end of those movies) if they removed the Bat-areolas.  What can I say?! 

I was pleased as proverbial punch last night to learn that The X-Files is coming back for another cute little season later this year, this time for 10 episodes.  I’ve always been a big X fan and I loved the little 6 episode season from last year!  I’ve watched it multiple times – sometimes with a gun to my head – and have enjoyed it roughly equally each and every time.   

It was a familiar rhapsody in blue.  And a compliment not paid.  And familiar and hollow pleas for forgiveness.  We’re awful.  Awful.  So much blue though.  Everything is blue.  Electric blue, that’s the color of my room, where I will live.  I cribbed that last one from David.  Thank you, David.  Maybe I’ll get the picture disc tomorrow.  Maybe not though.  

I hate myself so much. no need to mince words!  Or wince birds for that matter!  But yes, I hate hate hate myself.  Desire is such an ugly disgusting thing.  Oh I wish I were Dennis when around you.  Or Tom.  Or that classic Dennis/Tom hybrid.  I’m an alcoholic in real life and an alcoholic in my fantasy life.  There is empty stickiness later on.  Everything is so happy.  He comes to me in the middle of the night and makes me open wide.  Please, I just want to cry and let it all out and then die.  I don’t want to view myself through her eyes because that would be too awful.  My rhapsody in blue, please forgive the endless longings.  I guess we’re all crazy.  I am infinity.  I wish everyone would please stop talking to me.  I wouldn’t even care except….  Oh no, we are such sad disgusting things, spinning our little wheels in our pathetic useless lives, thinking what we do matters.  I suppose I justify all manner of fucked up and worthless things to myself.  One day it will all be exposed and everyone will point and laugh.  You didn’t have to take that one off the tab.  Take care.  Don’t take care, that’s what should have been said.  A ballroom where we are all wearing masks; let me drink it all away.  Except us two that is.  And then you and the real one who matters both need me on the train or in the house and look at me with a bit of horror afterward but I’ve never been more real, even when or especially when I am cleaning blood off my vest.  I know less and less about who I am or who anyone else is.  I feel so bad.  I feel so bad. 

Maybe I’ll watch the show Outlander some time.  I don’t know, maybe I won’t.  Neither would surprise me.  

Pity on all these wilfully ignorant worthless fucks. 

Empty.  It’s all meaningless.  It is truly sad to watch us desperately flail about in a pointless attempt to ascribe some significance to it all.  I am the very worst offender.   I am a fraud.  He’s tearing it up, the friend said, in regards to an avant-garde sax solo.  When the royalty needed sax, he called Candy.  I should have recommended something to the Indian girl.  French horror.  

I’ve forgotten the face of my….  I think I need to wear a black shirt with a button up white shirt over it or a white jacket over it.  Grey would probably work too.  Actually grey might work better.  No collars though.  I became trapped on the island.  It was my own fault.  No one else’s.  It’s never anyone else’s fault no matter how much we wish it were so.  This reading here at the end did me a world of good.  It’s a shame how worthless I am.  Lovely smile I would say.  Forever in debt.  So easy to fashion.  Green. 

The things I love do not receive the best of me.  I am an awful terrible thing and I deserve an awful end.   

Today was one year.  I see little need in pointing certain things out but there it is.  Forever everything.  Always enriching.  Always inspiring.  Of course, I Wish U Heaven.  

3 of 1 of 1 of another equals 5 which is odd which is what i like slash need slash want

Recently, I’ve still been listening to a lot of AXXoNN, my favorite radio show.  My clothes smell like tapioca pudding and I wouldn’t want it any other way.  Magenta.  Or fuchsia.  Already my memory is growing fuzzier than a big pile of fuzz fished out of my jeans pocket.  If I wore jeans that is.  She looked just like Tiffany though I wouldn’t realize it until precious moments later.  Then I could not get it or her out of my head.  It’s something akin to a pinwheel, right?  the princess was involved on more than one occasion.  I’m going to cut myself with a razor and leave the blood there. you’ll understand when you get older.  But yes, she looked very much like Tiffany, especially when she smiled and it was one magical moment.  They were not being paid for their time.  I kept asking for more manila folders.  Ulterior motives.  Back and forth in front of me.  Lovely.  

More than a year on and less than a year on.  Some know what it is about.  Reading has been hurting me.  

Woke up in a panic and wanted to end it all but I didn’t.  I think I’ll pick up Haim’s album.  I loved that live cover they did of I Would Die 4 U by Prince and the Revolution from the little known 1984 album Purple Rain (what an amazing piece of art!  One of the best of all time!).  I’ve often maintained that I Would Die 4 U is my favorite song from that album and am forever grateful I was able to see it performed live.  It truly is one of my favorite songs ever.  I think I’ll listen The Love Symbol Album today.  And/or Diamonds and Pearls.  And/or Come.  And/or The Gold Experience.  And/or Emancipation.  And/or Mayte’s album Child of the Sun.  And/or the NPG album Exodus.  Man, I just adore that whole era.  Some of my favorite sunniest most brilliantist music.  

Have I underrated Ben Shepherd as a bassist?  Maybe.  I’ve been having Martin Scorsese’s Gangs of New York on in the background a lot recently.  I don’t consider it a great movie honestly.  But Daniel Day Lewis’s performance as Bill the Butcher is fucking hypnotic and a weird second cousin to the cat he played in There Will Be Blood (A much better movie!  Or is it?!).

  
I’m getting excited for that Twin Peaks revival!  I need to start drinking a lot more black coffee and eating a lot more pie.  Maybe cherry (I’m just dying to taste your flavor, girl).  

I’m about halfway through Mayte’s book.  Heartbreaking.  Lovely.  Elegant.  Beautiful.  A unique and refreshing perspective.  It’s still hard to believe…both of them….

I’ve now purchased it and I love Haim’s first album.  Great album!  Great songs!  Great new wave feel!  Great thick P-bass sound driving it all!  And live, Este’s bass-faces are surreal, adorable, bizarre, sexy, lovely, outrageous, gregarious, flamboyant, odd, hypnotic, confrontational and enchanting!  And Sofia Rei’s album De Tierra y Oro?!  Beautiful.  Life affirming.  Much needed.  Thank You.  

Maybe I should have been a farmer, I think to myself, apropos of nothing.  

I spent all night looking for my copy of The 36th Chamber of Shaolin but I did not find it until just a few minutes ago.  And then there it was, right where I left it!

I’ve now finished Mayte’s book.  It made me cry multiple times.  I’m pleased to report it was not at all a tawdry or scandalous tell-all but rather quite a lovely, respectful and reflective look at their relationship and that era.  It was an enriching read. 

In many of my sweetest dreams I am murdered by a laughing Kate Del Castillo while she is wearing hosiery.  I’ve watched 4 episodes of her show Ingobernable on Netflix.  It is a good show I think.  It has good production values.  It is nice to look at.  The actors do well.  The story is interesting.  I have watched the 30 second YouTube video of her explaining how to pronounce the show’s title five thousand times.  I like to watch it while chugging black coffee and wondering why I exist.  

It’s only taken 8 short years but U2’s 2009 album No Line on the Horizon is finally growing on me in big bold ways!  That album’s been a constant in my automobile, my posh flat and in the diseased inner corridors of my brain for the past several weeks and I’m really feeling the grooves, messages and production.  I can’t say it is up there with Achtung Baby or Zooropa but it has a similarly experimental, angular, lush, obtuse, fascinating, shimmery, washy, plumy feel to it and I’d probably put it above Pop.  I still love that gaudy single Get on Your Boots and recently learned the bassline when I wasn’t busy hating myself and contemplating the strength of my ceiling fan.  Unknown Caller – I love those group harmonies and the quirky lyrics!  Quirky as fuck!  And that last song Cedars of Lebanon poignantly shifts perspective and serves up a subtle…I don’t know, I lost interest in my paragraph but not this album.  I like this album lots.  

Oh Adamari…how I adore those legs.  Let me count thy ways: four hundred and fifty seven billion!  They are the reason I wake up every morning.  That green dress!  Oh please, oh please, that green dress!  Oh, someone help me…oh God….  The only reason one might say.  I hate myself so much and often wish…trailing off again….

I’m gonna throw up a few trailers here and give some brief thoughts.  I love trailers.  Often, trailers are better the movie itself which is always a great surprise.  

This first trailer is for Justice League which is…I don’t know what to think.  Lots of special effects.  Lots of dark colors.  I cant lie.  Every time these characters are brought to the big screen the fanboy in me is always simultaneously ejaculating crystal colored come as well as letting loose with highly explosive red hot diarrhea right into his formerly clean and crisp white jockies!  What a feeling!  The excitement just overtakes me!  I am going to remain cautiously optimistic.  It is true that the DC on film universe is a bit of a mess right now but I’m just going to take it as it comes and just judge each thing film by film.  I’m pumped to see Aquaman and Mera (swoon) and to see what they do with the Flash and with Jack Kirby’s Fourth World mythology which I adore (almost as much as Adamari’s legs) and I squealed with girlish glee at the end there when Wonder Woman (swoon) jumps down and lands in front of Aquaman and Cyborg, ready to throw down!  

This second trailer is for Stephen King’s It!  It is one of my favorite books of all time and I found the massive brick like tome to be a totally engrossing and terrifying read, one to which I regularly return for inspiration and to relive those thrills.  Aside from Tim Curry’s performance as the titular It AKA Pennywise the Dancing Clown AKA Bob Gray I’ve always found the 1990 miniseries to be a humongous pile of steaming crap!  Still, I’m not fully convinced by this trailer despite the huge positive reaction it yielded in the epic online communication.  The cinematography by Oldboy’s Chung-hoon Chung looks great but…I don’t know…maybe I just need to see more Pennywise to know for sure but I’m not yet convinced.  Hell, I’ll still be there opening night though!  Such is the nature of wisdom.  

And the last trailer is the most recent one shown for Wonder Woman.  This is the movie I’m most excited to see this humble year and I’ve LOVED all the trailers so far.  This makes me very worried that the movie will be bad, tee hee.   Love the color, the brightness, and it seems they’ve really captured the heart of the character.  There at the end when she says she is Diana of Themyscira…that makes my heart melt!  Please be good!  PLEASE!!!  

Diamonds and Pearls is like thick chocolate cake and lemonade.  And I mean that in a good way.  I still prefer Symbol though.  I like 3121 a lot too! Probably not one of my fave faves but I likes it a lot and it has lots o good memories attached.  And the Batman soundtrack!  Both of em!  Love em!  Electric Chaaaiiirrr!!!  Partyman!  Trust (Who do ya?)!  Lemon Crush!  Batdance!  I’ve seen the future and it will be….  I need to give up the chains!  If I don’t I will die!  (Maybe I shouldn’t then, huh?!)  I love 3 Chains O Gold!  And Vicki Waiting!  Oh man, still I keep Vicki waiting. 

Oh, and I just watched the trailer for American Assassin and I was surprisingly engaged!  No doubt due to the presences of Sanaa Lathan (swoon) and Michael Keaton (swoon!)!  This reminds me I must hitchhike on over to Ye Olde Conglomerate today to purchase a copy of The Founder!  And maybe that one book about suicide!  My life for The Keats!  

Chicas Kimba (among several) others really helped me out yesterday.  Explosive help!  

1,141 (island)

Jack Sherman will always be the definitive guitarist for the Red Hot Chili Peppers.  Having seen them as recently as two weeks ago I am more sure of that than I’ve ever been in my miserable worthless life. 

The most recent Tegan and Sara album is great!  I recently listened to it on repeat while driving 7 straight hours through the inky night, operating under several Monster energy drinks and several thermoses of piping hot black coffee. 

False faces are literally everywhere and I think it is partly my fault and partly not but it probably doesn’t matter.  I should just go dramatically crashing through a window.  More impurity.  That is his specialty.  And a furry thing.  But we’re all related. 

I think the smile took control of everything.  And there was cotton.  Maybe cotton.  And something very boyish.  Short and boyish.  And things were stretched to the very limits.  Don’t think about white collared shirts and different types of ties and for heaven’s sake don’t even mention….  Don’t apologize for not having as much time because it is not your fault.  The long week with nothing to do but cross over the bridge.  That sounds very lovely.  What else can I get you?  I have made a grave mistake.  Is it time to end it all?!  Maybe. I certainly do fancy the idea.  Nope nope all those other ideas running through the brain.  So much electricity and screaming.  You showed up thirsty today.  Everything is you.  I know friendship is not a possibility and that must make you feel very comfortable.  I cannot speak a word of German.  God, I am Frank.  Please forgive me.  My pleas for forgiveness are hollow and meaningless.  We are all lost and that is the great beauty of things.  There is no reason for any of it.  I always listen to that one Lady Gaga song afterwards.  I wish I could quit you.  This ain’t no rodeo.  You wouldn’t even dare watch that.  All of a sudden I’m talking about something entirely different.  How was the preparation?  It was very slushy.  But I don’t care.  I never care.  People already know what the objective is.  I won’t even listen to that message.  Someone is plotting my doom.  How richly appropriate.  Did she make the right thing?  Yes, of course.  How could there be any doubt.  Sunsets are always preferable to sunrises but I’m sure the alternative would have been just as sweet.  God, the smile again.  Getting back to that other thing.  The color surely pops, eh?  I woke up on red sheets and felt so confused and blissfully alone yet I could think of nothing more appealing than killing myself; perhaps blowing my brains out and making pretty patterns on the floor and walls.  Then I walked outside and I was singing into a tape recorder and looking out at a river which only reminded me of another river.  I imagine myself in this situation and I am needed and it is all quite lethal and lovely and for some bizarre reason that is the only way he can see himself ingratiating himself but it works if only for a moment and then it doesn’t but at least there will always be that one moment.  On the train, right?  And that of course leads to the flashback of the initial moment which caused everything and it was the explosion that created the universe and the world had never known such sweet torment before and a very blonde tennis player left the festivities early to ensure maximum pain (cream corn, yes, ideas have it, he has ideas). 

Even after that though I still imagine over and over again…I think it is a blue dress, could be another color, almost any color really.  We are all wearing masks.  No, I am wrong again.  Almost everyone is wearing masks but this is a moment for seeing.  I don’t know that I really want to kill myself but I sure do think of it often.  It doesn’t feel bad though or sad.  It actually feels quite peaceful.  You’re tired of it.  That’s what happens when you say hello.  The weariness is noticeable and beautiful.  

What did the litigator say?  I am the goddess.  It is too difficult to recall the rest – perhaps something about totems and a tiger – but surely that goddess quote is correct and could not be more apt.  how could that person be such a keen and astute observer and translator of the international language of body?  I guess that’s why the litigator is the litigator. 

The faces are not the same one moment and then in the next they are.  The smiles are the same and too lovely and I simply want to die.  A thousand little deaths sound so blissful.  They prick me.  mutual respect.  Or is it you shall respect?  Or something else.  But no, it seems the perennial favorite shall forever be haunting this space and there is nothing you or I can do about it. 

I am a despicable creature.  I don’t want to be seen again and then in the next moment I do.  I wake up and everything is awful and there appears to be flowers on the wall but they are all dead.  There are other things rotting on the wall.  At least I haven’t punched holes in it and written cryptic narratives.  I still have those precious few wits about me.   

Yes, twice.  That is what it is to be.  And lies the likes of which you convince yourself to believe.  Those are the best kind though, right?  What does this mean?  An admittance to emotion.  It’s all so fucking meaningless in the end.  The word “fuck” appeared in my mind a lot today, often in big flashing capital neon letters.  It’s not the word’s fault though.  Do not blame language for my shortcomings. 

But don’t include you in that.  I got the name wrong.  No I didn’t.  it’s just two names.  But don’t include you in that.  Lovely.  That is the only appropriate word.  Peach.  Does that sum it up?  Why, oh why?  And why am I me?  I am so ugly and awful.  There is nothing to me.  Yay, it’s going to be party time very soon! 

You’re very welcome.  Too many words and they are burning my brain and I don’t know what to do.  Except these terrible thoughts about myself give me so much comfort.  Please be happy.  Don’t think twice about me.  that would be such a waste of time. 

Basically, I just mean to say that I need to listen to David Bowie and Scott Walker right now, though not necessarily in that order (but not not necessarily either, dig?). 

Still waiting on that phone call on the book.  I wait still. 

There is a plectrum in my mouth.

you were on the other side before (what?), one knee on the booth, smile when red

Shunshine.  That is what we are all looking for.  It was such a perfect word I very nearly exploded when I heard it for the first time.  I am so very impure; I cannot deny that for a millisecond.  I suppose it all does come down to mathematics in the end.  What would we do without Professor Ackeret?  What is this thing I see spreading out all over the cities?  The crazy planet, the cosmic and the concept of zero.  Then the inevitable spasms were terrifying and yet I’d never felt such clarity before.  It washed over me in an awesome wave.  

She showed him the little scraps of paper and at that precise moment he realized she is in fact blissfully deliriously insane and really, can there be anything greater than that?  What are these five mystical language which you practice day in and day out (underrated)?  Don’t forget the little smiley face with the tongue sticking out lurking there in the corner.  Heaven sent.  Perfume.  On my knees.  He is being forced to kiss.  And there is laughter and mockery and joy.  There is perfume everywhere.  This is part of something.  But she is whole.  Can you not get that through your extra thick skull?  Ecstasy in nylons. 

Did you experience jealousy of a construction worker?  That jacket was quite florescent wasn’t it?  Her honeyed words are not reserved only for you my friend.  There is no such thing as deserve. I rather love the elaborate fantasies which we construct to push ourselves through our miserable lives.  

You hid her phone.  Dude.  There was such a wonderful wince.  Or was it a cringe?  No, neither of those is accurate in the least.  But it was a search most spectacular and in the end the word roommate appeared in quotation marks.  There was discover, everything through the glass.  Very pink.  Really pink.  Totally pink. Everything pink.  Fuck, what the fuck was it?  Never that type of language in her presence but what the fuck was it?  This must be a result of the gas covering all the cities. The pyramids.  The human servitude and the homeless monkey.  They left markers and sign posts.  They would return one day when that mathematics had properly caught up.  Yes, it was pink all over and wonderful and someone’s face was turning red.  Rhinoceros.  Does she know? She has to know.  She knows, she knows, she knows.  Does it make you feel good?   There is hope that it is so.  You called him on it.  You said it was turning red.  Buenas dias Senor Sol.  

I know friendship is not a possibility.  I imagine that makes you feel very comforted which in itself is a wonderful thing.  Still, what if we met on that train and there was a fifth round knockout (you know what I’m saying? Maybe it’s fourth).  I’d like to think you would understand and see something worthy inside.  

He’s kinda weird right.  doesn’t like them to talk too much.  But it still happened anyway.  Promises switched hands.  This is sin and awfulness and he says he is sorry but is he really?  He is the only one to blame in any of this.  But the sky was so blue and the world felt so beautiful in that particular moment.  There are no speech problems whatsoever, please don’t say that.  Five.  What a great and ambitious number.  Please go back one day. Fulfill everything.  White on black and always so exquisite.  It is death by aromatic orgasm every time she is moving through this proximity.  

He must be rather terrified to enter the void where one’s mind’s eye can see what lies beyond.  We are constructing an inner sanctum of rebirth and very soon we are going to sing songs of national pride and then engage in acts of dance and cannibalism in equal measure.  

It all goes back in time and these moments are relived again and again and they are never anything less than perfect.  That was a time of no codes.  And there are bleach blondes but that’s not entirely true because a soccer player inquired to the true color and the naturalness was revealed.  And then there were later connections or maybe this happened before but who really gives a flying fuck, am I right?!  But then, no, saw for the very first time in orange with a long gone best friend.  Delicious.  That was the word you used.  I can see why.  Was peanut butter the code word(s)?  I guess there were codes back then after all but only the one.  And then afterward she left earlier before dessert and it was the very first time (I think, when did the angel who loves torture come into play?  The hug.  I am so wrong and so sorry for everything.  that hug was everything but I am so so sorry for my existence. Please forgive me everyone but especially you know who you all are.  Met at a potluck.  I’m sorry. The spring dress.  The articles and confessions and everything meaningless because it comes from me.  Please I am so very very sorry!).  But that first time set the stage for everything and please forgive the endless longings and the appropriately interrupted communication.  And then it just came back again.  Each revelation brings joy.  This is the affect.  Effect.  Red again.  all pink.  That was your own personal touch and it was divine.  His feelings are so wrong.  Please never stop being lovely.  

There was bemused concern there at the end.  Reminding him so much of another.  One obsession begets another.  I can’t talk.  And then always a smile.  I can’t talk and then there is a smile.  I am the goddess. I think a spiritual animal (maybe a tiger) quoted that to me, talking about the very first time.  I am wrong in everything.  

I saw that one movie the other day. Snikt!  It gave me tears.  And then…the flesh.  Touch of blue.  

I listened to the album Station to Station today.  First in my car and then again in my posh flat.  What comfort it gave me!  So hologramic.  And love, thy will be done.  This comforted me as well.  

Shunshine.  That’s how it begins and just perhaps that is how it ends.  Though deep inside I somehow doubt it.  Of course, I think as my head goes light, how utterly improper.  Eleven seemed appropriate.  I’m sorry again to everyone but most of all to you know who you are.  Especially.  He hates himself.  I hate myself.  But I love you.  

He's so swishy (I don't have that level of potential because I have no potential!)

These are all just fragments and meaningless, just like my utterly meaningless life. 

Hunky Dory is 45 today!  Oh how I love that one.  It is happening right now around me, pure inspiration, art, beauty.  Everything. 

Windy took control of everything recently.  Boy, did she ever take control.  Magicians and lovely clowns.  What have I done?  And now the Magic Moon again.  I will never be in control.  And I will never be free.  That peach though.  I did not take a bite out of the peach today.  That is the only victory to which I can lay claim. No, I am totally wrong.  Because soon after I did take a bite of peach.  And what came afterward was hollow and lifeless.  None of the preceding had anything to do with being wild at heart though I understand if one were to make that confused assumption.  Why did you have to make a fresh pot of coffee?! 

I liked and sometimes loved many (all) of the albums which came after but I feel confident in saying that Prince’s 2001 album The Rainbow Children was his last masterpiece.  What an emotional ride. 

 I recently finished The Flash season 2 and did not find it as satisfying as season 1.  Specifically, the main villain’s motivation and history was beyond convoluted and nonsensical which wouldn’t necessarily be so much of a problem if (sentence unfinished).  Still, I remain an avid fan of the program and its delightful silver age slant and sensibilities.  In my effort to continue catching up on all the superhero TV shows I recently began Legends of Tomorrow and found the first two episodes to be replete with good clean and colorfully bombastic superheroics!  Consider me a fan, dear loyal readers!  I also fell truly madly deeply in love with CHAY-ARA.  I need her! 

Yes, everything hunky dory!  I so need it.  Thank you again, thank always for the rest of my miserable pathetic life.  Look at those cavemen go!  I couldn’t do it without you!  None of it!  Fuck!    

I never considered until now that the whore might be time itself, first flexing and then punching.  I suppose that was patrol though.  Still, that fits in a way I never would or could have considered before due to my debilitating ignorance.    

So the new trailer for Spider Man Homecoming came out very recently. Michael Keaton!  Yes!!!  Playing the Vulture!  The man could not be more meta.  Vulture is a man in a bird costume.  Keaton played Batman (still the best one) in 89 and 92.   Years later he starred in Alejandro Inniratu’s Birdman, where he played an actor who previously played a superhero in a bird costume.  That movie also made general jokes about the genre including chief stars like Robert Downey Jr and of course it was impossible not to connect it with Keaton’s own filmography.  And now Keaton plays a straight superhero villain who dresses in a bird costume in a movie co-starring Robert Downey J.!  Brilliant!  He can’t get more meta!  I love him!!!  And yes, he’s better than Bale, no fucking contest! 

“Just in case,” she said.  and like that I melted as though my body were made of soft calcium left out in the sun too long on the last day of the hottest month in a classic leap year.  Just in case. As in, just in case you didn’t get the memo.  As in, just in case I wasn’t sexy enough for you already.  As in, just in case you wear too many pairs of shoes on the wrong day.  I fantasized about being electrocuted and then I laughed heartily when I turned the wrong way on a one way street.  It was like having a heart attack on a one way street (whatever the hell that means!)!  A Czech now controls my bank account. Art official age fucked up when it was in my car.  Why does my life have to be so hard!?  The thrashing of legs. 

I started reading Jack Ketchum’s book Ladies’ Night yesterday.  It is slim book and I read about half of it and should be able to finish it today.  I’ve wrote a fair amount about Ketchum recently after reading his first novel – Off Season – and finding it to be a sweaty and grueling slab of hard horror that I absolutely adored.  And I am so far finding Ladies’ Night to be right on par for that course!  I’ve ordered a couple more of his books and hope to literally devour them at some point in the future of my miserable life.  What a writer!  When it comes to Ketchum I gotta ketchum all!  I finished that book. 

Lovesexy.  That is everything.  Anna Stesia.  Glam Slam.  Title. 

I don’t really know him, never could, never will.  How utterly proper. 

It all comes back again.  This is the third time in as many times.  This time the almighty and awesome importance of white belts truly came into play.  And the cancerous cuts were glory.  Braided.  Coffee drinker, says not I, at all mad hours of the day.  If only it were possible to segue.  Rhinoceroses were charging through then and replacing one, old hat now.  And she knows. 

I should have ordered the elephant man.  What an idiot I am.  Idiot is my chief role in life.  We are long overdue for that apocalypse so these prognostics please me to no end. 

The Annunciation.  Gabriel appears at some very critical times. 

McAslin was the last key player then.  The one who would set off the final explosion. 

We’ve arrived at the final station.  I’m still not quite sure who will connect me with love. 

Finally, Nine Inch Nails announced new music earlier today.  Not a bad way to end a largely miserable year. 

I saw Star Wars: Rogue One last night.  On Monday I went to see Nocturnal Animals.  On Tuesday I went to see Dr. Strange.  I did not like these movies evenly.  Mads Mikkelsen was in two of them. 

9311.  this is a reference in volving time (the).  But the key of course is something hidden and as it relates to an unrelated text.  Would it be a sin?  I suspect so.

I love Soda Stereo.  I need to learn some of their basslines.  Persiana Americana.  What a tune!  It defines it all!  The thing from earlier!  Help me to stop!  I paid them more to stop! 

So it appears doubling down on the muses is in order.  Chuckles to himself, I think I would love to come and die in sweetest sin.  He was thinking about smooching Hawkgirl while a Peter Gabriel song played but that has nothing to do with this.  I couldn’t pick a favorite.  Homo sapiens have outgrown their use, so true.  Don’t believe in yourself.  How could I possibly single out only one?  Is life on mars the greatest thing ever?  But this has nothing to do with anything.  I was talking about him doubling down.  Wonderful.  Perfect.  Muses galore.  Explosions at the gates, whatever that means.  And ever the appropriately unsatisfying spurt. Please, can we meet just once at a costume ball?  If only he could have shared those raspberry delights.  White belts.  Heaven help us all.  Always thoughts of hosiery.  Don’t go back.  That coffee jacked me up.  My friend said he saw it happen.  He told me.  He made this other thing happen.  Even after I changed races and threw my ring into a river in Italy.  Oh bella, bella, bella.  Why?  Fucking why?!  

kitchen

Is Plectrumelectrum a defacto sequel to Chaos and Disorder?  I don’t know!  Is Blackstar a defacto sequel to 1.Outside?  I don’t know that either?  Is Nine Inch Nails’s Year Zero the spiritual successor to David Bowie’s Diamond Dogs?  I don’t know that either but it sometimes sounds like it maybe possibly could be!  Does anything I say make any fucking sense anymore whatsoever?  I suspect not.  I listened to the album The Will to Death the other night while I was typing.  I really like that album.  Actually, I love it.  I cried afterward and was only comforted by the thought of ending it all. 

I just learned that Robert Eggers is set to write and direct a remake of the 1922 classic Nosferatu.  Normally, I would be against such a remake as the vast majority of remakes – particularly in the horror genre – are limpdick piles of shit!  But after The Witch I have nothing but complete and utter faith in Eggers and now anticipate this project with great relish and sauerkraut.  Of course, I’m being a bit of a moron (even more than usual somehow) as Werner Herzog already crafted a perfectly great remake of his own in 1979.  Boy I’m stupid!  I think I’ll pick up the new A Tribe Called Quest album very soon.  Then I will listen to it in my car (where I feel safest of all).  Metallica’s new album and Little Mix’s new album also both came out today.  I am more excited for Little Mix. 

I gave it up of course. He is now able to simply…I don’t know.  I lost interest in the train of thought.  You know, I find war movies to be dreadfully uninteresting.  He was able to go there though.  He was able to go and not make the usual requests and everything worked out just fine.  It was a lovely liquid dinner.  It is the anniversary of sorts for Pearl Jam’s 2002 album Riot Act.  You know, I really do like this album, lots o lovely songs with some great rockers, some great deep cuts.  I fucking love that record!  Don’t really know what more I can say!  I just don’t know.  I watched the movie Red Desert the other day.  I think it may have some sci fi elements but then part of me thinks I’m completely wrong.  Oh God, all these moments, that is my life.  That’s all there is.  I love alienation.  Pura calentura.  Discovery never ceases. 

I dreamed about The Jackal last night.  I think at some point a Tsunami washed me away. 

I recently watched the movie The Secret in Their Eyes.  The original and not the piece of shit American remake.  I was blown away again like a field of corn in a high wind.  I loved it so much I wanted to shoot myself in the face with a really big gun afterward to only leave behind a horrifically deformed piece of head with my brain matter splattered all over the walls.  Such is the nature of wisdom.  There was one scene where Soledad Villamil wore hosiery and I nearly died.  I just remembered I watched a great movie on a plane at some point but I can’t remember the title!  Why am I so useless? 

The new trailer for Kong: Skull Island was so good it made me want to take a shit in my trembling hand and then consume that recently expelled excrement, washing it down with a hot shot of Sauza gold tequila.  Seriously, the trailer is that good.  Well, I guess it’s not that good but it got me excited anyway.  Here’s hoping it doesn’t turn out like that limp dick American Godzilla flick from a couple years back!  The new Spears music video!  Yowza!  Boing!!!

I recently acquired Skeleton Tree, the new album from Nick Cave and the Bad Seeds.  Truth be told it’s been out for a couple months but I am a very new Cave and Seeds fan and as such I was behind in the moment of this release.  I listened to it today while writing some crap.  It is impossible for me to listen to this album without considering what happened in Cave’s personal life during the time of its writing and recording.  As such, am I ascribing too much despondency to the work?  Deeper analysis is necessary.  I speak from a place of ignorance as I am just beginning to know this artist and their repertoire but it sounds akin to their 2013 album Push the Sky Away which is an album I am growing ever more fond of.  It also raises interesting questions that I will ask myself while sitting alone in the living room of my posh flat and.  I think about Blackstar and how unique an experience I had.  For those first three days I heard the darkness but it gave me hope of a bizarre and wonderful new beginning.  Were these occult leanings?  Were we playing with something awful?  So much boundless creativity.  And then a truth was revealed and suddenly the darkness took on an entirely different meaning and I will never again be able to experience it as I did initially.  This is the fascinating face of art, that the same piece is constantly changing based on your own shifting perspective.  What is Blackstar to someone who left this plane earlier than that Sunday but who could still listen?  Or to someone who acquired it and then shut him or her self off entirely from society?  What is it to someone who acquired it the week after and what will it be to those who listen to it for the first time 1 year or 10 years or 100 years from now?  It will be the first thing for some.  Getting back to Skeleton Tree, that song I Need You makes me ache.  Getting back to Blackstar, it sometimes scares me. 

I’ve been a fool.  I see that now clear as the muddy day.  Blood still thick with narcotics.  I need to remember love sexy.  I need to get Lovesexy in my heart again.  Maybe a walk through the heart.  I’ve spent too much time in the black.  I need something naked with flowers. 

He is a prisoner.  Oh what a sad sad prisoner.  The other one needs to get used to the face.  He always had a firmer head on his shoulders.  There was something quite bizarre taking place.  A bit of inside communication.  Inside baseball.  So obvious, she said.  please do not be discouraged by this sudden change.  Lack of attention is a new kind of compliment.  Must escape from this macabre…. Balls of grease control everything.  What a sad pathetic world.  He is the poster child. 

Good ol’ Steve says humans only have about 1000 years left on earth.  That seems like far far more than we deserve and I hope his estimates are greatly exaggerated.  After my ninth cup of repulsive NesCafe I was driving around and gurning and screaming my lungs out while looking at all the neon lights and listening to the song Touch Me and for the briefest of moments everything felt all right! 

My morning was full of dopplegangers and strange, distressing occult symbols.  And a new sister.  White and black.  Easy to remember and reshape.  Family affair.  Sly.  Drugs on the tape.  My hands are shaking.  It is an ass for the ages.  

held close while it is siphoned out (so oddly loving, and what language?)

I very recently finished Jack Ketchum’s excellent novel Off Season.  My sweaty fingers were turning the yellowed brittle pages so rapidly I nearly bled out from the plentiful papercuts!  What a book!  Ketchum has ketched my imagination and put a spell on me!  Upon completion I immediately hitchhiked over to Barnes & Noble Booksellers to order 19 more of his books which should arrive by the end of business Tuesday.  Standard unspoken rules of hitchhiking mandated that I pay the generous driver with gas, grass or ass so I dutifully dropped my rent trousers and allowed my sweet puckery hindquarters to be mercilessly pummeled as a means of reciprocity.  No joke though folks: Ketchum’s book was highly inspiring and exactly the kind of pulp literary horror that gets my blood pumping something fierce!

The other day I listened to the album L.A. Woman by the Doors (or simply Doors as the cover sleeve states) and concluded it to be my 3^rd favorite Doors disc.  Though therein lies the rub.  Because on its day I think it could edge past Strange Days but only on its day.  Additionally, on The Soft Parade’s day I think The Soft Parade could edge past L.A. Woman (but likely never past Strange Days) so what does that mean exactly?!  Regardless, L.A. Woman is a grimy, gritty, greasy, sweaty, cigarette and especially hard liquor stained bluesy corker of an album. No, not bluesy, BLOOZEY!  Yeah, that’s more like it.  It may not be as greasy as some Tom Waits or Captain Beefheart records but it is plenty oily, make no mistake.  Man, I just fucking love that album.  I listened to it while driving and rarely thought about blowing my brains out.  I love those deep cuts.  Morrison’s voice is in fine worn out ragged form and the band (with invaluable assistance from bassist Jerry Scheff) sounds tight as a rat bastard! 

I paid her a pretty penny and as part of the arrangement we made she spoke with a Brooklyn accent during our time together.  Her hair was black.  Sno-cones.  The tips always reminded me of Sno-cones but I tell ya that I didn’t really miss em.  When my airways were right and properly constricted and with the right amount of taunts applied I tell ya that I was doing just fine without em.  I must again give hearty thanks to Allen Gant.  I tell ya, Mr. Gant, if we meet in the next life the first 457-thousand rounds are on me! 

I think I’ll read The Naked Lunch now!  Look at me!  Look at how well-read and cultured and sophisticated I am!  I know more about art in any of its forms than anyone I know and that’s because I’m the best and everyone else is a close minded, simpering, needy, mouth-breathing loser!  Haha, I’m so great and all you bottom feeding lowlifes just go on with your pathetic ignorant lives blind to the truths around us!  Stop pretending like all these superficial connections actually mean something!  Haha, oh how I love being me!   

Once I read the book I will promptly order Criterion’s blu ray copy of David Cronenberg’s film adaptation.  I actually saw this flick many moons ago though I don’t recall too much beyond some rather striking and bizarre imagery as well as the fact that I understood very little of it.  I’ve been rounding up as many Cronenberg flicks as possible on blu ray and next week I shall add to this with the long awaited blu ray release of his 1988 film Dead Ringers which is probably my favorite movie from this director.  Good ol’ Jeremy Irons.  He might be my favorite Alfred.  My copy of Fellini’s La Dolce Vita arrived via airmail yesterday and the transfer looks stupendous!  “Via Airmail” was the name of a paper plane designed by a girl I knew in 5^th grade. 

I need to buy both of Martika’s albums.  I told someone the other night that I like animals more than people, further clarifying that I largely hate people.  They were chagrined by my opinion.  But I spoke the truth.  That’s gotta count for something right?  Nah.  The truth ain’t squat! 

Those able to cannily read through the proverbial cracks have likely noted that in recent weeks I have slowly but surely been in a phase of rediscovery and reconnection with my undying love for his music (and now his musical legacy I suppose I should add).  Hold me.  All this unreleased music.  A vault.  I am in love.  I must say thank you for all these gifts.  Everything is renewed.  Make it through the storm.  Now I must begin the long and joyous process, just like in the beginning.  Where did all these come from?  What were their intended homes?  You have saved me so many times.  Alone in my room I listened to you all night.  Lying on a cheap bed in a strange town.  Lady cab driver.  This is what it is all about. 

The other night there were three David Bowie songs which reflected quite well how I was feeling: Loving the Alien from 1984’s Tonight, I’m Afraid of Americans from 1997’s Earthling and Fall Dog Bombs the Moon from 2003’s Reality.  I think Fantastic Voyage from 1979’s Lodger would also have fit.  And maybe the 1971 single Holy Holy!  I have nothing more to say on the subject than that. 

I watched the movie Arrival last night at the cinema with a predominantly older and respectful crowd.  I’ve been telling my contemporaries that it was so good that if I’d had a gun I would have blown my brains out right there in the middle of the theatre as the closing credits rolled.  Director Denis Villeneuve is 6 for 6 for yours falsely!  What a dude!  And Amy Adams!  She is slowly cementing herself as an actress for the ages!  When the eventual biopic of my life is made I hope she plays me!  Though I do actually hate biopics!  And she has another movie coming next month called Nocturnal Animals which also looks great!  What a woman!  Be careful not to confuse Arrival with David Twohy’s 1996 movie The Arrival starring Charlie Sheen.  It can be easy to do this since both movies deal with an alien invasion.  In some ways Twohy is as consistent as Villeneuve though his films are decidedly more in the schlock category (though loving schlock).  I’m waiting on needles and pins for the next Riddick movie. 

I was playing a rousing game of backgammon the other day with a giant talking pelican when the world inadvertently exploded.  Now, I don’t recognize a damn thing.  This world is full of unrealistic cheddar mongers. 

They call me ugly because I do not have the capacity to love everything.  Or maybe anything.  Sometimes I am not sure.  I think I probably am ugly. 

I guess there is a lovely trilogy of death we are all graciously privy too.  Let’s ignore it though.  We are the willfully ignorant.  We are a disease.  My word, humanity is so stupid and ugly.  Talking with others is painful.

He saw the future and it was murder.