Dirty Dozen Redone

Of Ancient Memory (the Oblivion Seekers)

I think this is the end now. The people who could escape have done so and the people who were stuck are no more. It's a bit scary how much of Jarboe's words I can relate to. Maybe I'm just looking and want it to but still.

as far as the eye can see heat is rising off the sand
somewhere out on this holy land time once
was held in their hands
but it bleeds now down the mountain red to the river bank
where they burn their dead
and it sinks deep in the blackest sea
to a bed of ancient memory-
the incense is sweet fills the air this night: lulls you to sleep
the past and the future are here in this fever
from the cold star that makes no sound
a cruel poison comes down as we bathe nude
in the wind, metallic blue becomes our skin
strange is the magic
the waters make no sound
strange is the magic
we lay our bodies down
love dark and tragic
we lay upon the ground
love is the magic
now we spiral round
we drink the waters
filled with delight
the past and the future
closed to our sight
no need for the wisdom
words from the sages
for here is oblivion
come down through the ages
you don't come to this place on your own
you're born to this pain it's your home
it's useless they say to run and hide
you know it's useless they pay who stay and fight
we didn't come here of our own volition
it's prophesy, apathetic contrition
and we didn't come here of a free will
to grip a silent unknown fear then lay quite still
we close our eyes, turn our face
close our mind now go away
shut your eyes and turn away
you've closed your mind but it's here to stay
in the flickering blue century
the blue eternity
blue bombs explode on the screen
blue arms outstretched as they plead
see the cold star, it makes no sound, poison comes down
it sinks in the black sea: a bed of ancient memory

valkyrie in the roller disco

Bangalore born and Bangalore bred
when I dies, I'll be Bangalore dead

...with due apologies to Frank Hennessy

So my favourite blogs are dying. One by one by one like dominoes they fall. It started with boizebu then enemy of the music business, then the worried well went down and now even the relatively innocuous metalhcalbums is dead. I'm not liking this at all.

In other news, there really isn't any. I only came here so I could steal Frank's line and use it for my own selfish needs.

well done Bannakaffalatta

Life's been a little confusing the last couple of weeks. A million unasked questions and elements that are in constant flux. Weariness I think, more than anything else. Tired and hopelessly lost and a little resentful of the way my life is going. I know not what I want but know this isn't it.

I haven't been getting a lot of sleep lately. the weekend was the weekend and then the last couple of days have seen my sleep plagued and broken by what might have been an imaginary cat and an all too real drunk friend. I have a feeling tonight may be no different. also it's bright and sunny today. after a really long while and it's really fuck all. typical doom metal weather when the sun is hidden away somewhere, a cold breeze and the constant threat of rain is where it's at. makes me happy.

i saw Rajneeti and the less said about it the better. I'm still watching doctor who and it's getting a bit hit and miss. I've started on grand dad's books and am currently reading "the streaked blond slave." turns out he also left me his collection of cuff links which i got today morning and which came completely out of the blue. Must get some shirts to go along.

meetings, meetings, meetings
they drive me up the wall
they'd like to feed me their leavings
it'll be fun to make them crawl

later.

homecoming

He grinned a 32 watt grin. His tongue was pressed against his teeth and almost seemed to be oozing out from between the gaps. He was dancing without moving. He was where he'd always wanted to be. Fire all around him and it felt cold. It felt good. He stood and watched. His tongue making further progress. Squeezing and forcing its way into and through the gaps. He didn't know and even if he did it would have made no difference. This was rapture. He stared at the columns of fire and the faces he thought he knew. He stamped his foot to the thumping bass groove and kept on grinning. Even as his tongue made slow but inexorable progress through his teeth he exulted in the fact that he'd always known. This was where he'd end up. Was prepared for it. Was looking forward to it for most of his life. The music fell silent and the dancing stopped. His tongue was sticking out now. His teeth losing the battle but still fighting the war. A trace of blood on his lips, a few teeth sticking out and a few cuts on his tongue. Lost in glorious rapture, he was indifferent to the war in his mouth. He danced now. With renewed energy. Moving every limb like his life depended on it. A madman's dance, a merry go round and windmill somehow combined. He danced and his tongue sneaked out of his mouth. A brilliant red thing of indeterminate length. He danced with his feet and his hands and his hips and his head. The faces came closer and he found they came attached with bodies. He felt he should say hello but simply could not. The faces stared and seemed to be waiting. He didn't know about this bit. The fires had gone out and he was sweating. His tongue must have come into his line of vision at this time. Moving now at a noticeable rate. Cracked teeth, blood stained gums and a few standing teeth were all that remained. This war was lost. He stared at the faces and wondered where he'd seen them before and what they were waiting for. He tried saying hello again and he couldn't. His tongue inched onwards and upwards. The bright shining red seemed to move and ripple; a life of its own. When he saw her he knew it was getting to the end. As he swayed and moved to a beat only she could hear. As she made her slow but inevitable approach. As she stood in front of him, his tongue. As she reached for it and held it in a grip all at once gentle and firm. His tongue seemed to purr and became brighter. The tongue knew as well. She pulled. He danced as his tongue now stretched out infinite. She pulled hard and soft at the same time. The faces were forgotten and every sense he had was focused on the woman. As she pulled him and the tongue with her eyes and her hands.

Finally. He was home.

Watchoo talkin' 'bout?

Gary Coleman died. Different Strokes, The Fantastic World of DC Collins, The Kid with the 2000 IQ and Jimmy the Kid. Used to be a regular Sunday afternoon feature at home when I was little. Whats with all my child hood idols biting the dust?

RIP Gary Coleman

our dying republic

sons of liberty is the best thing Jon Schaffer's done since Something Wicked this Way Comes. This is so cheesy but i've been singing along all evening. and there's one song on this album where he's ripped off the intro from living on a prayer and used it as the main riff on the verse. i'm probably just hearing things but yeah, video. with lyrics and everything.

i hope it passes me by

i've been sitting at home the last couple of days with a sty in the eye. It's reduced in size now and i feel pretty good but the pills made me woozy and i slept in the afternoon. It's made me woozy again. I hate pills. So anyway, sat at home all day and listened to music.

The Pack AD is catchy and has a couple of great songs and a great vocalist which always helps but I'll forget about them in a couple of weeks. The new Integrity's made me want to listen to seasons again and it actually sounds tame in comparison to the blackest curse. well done. In other news I've also been playing these two videos through the day.






I also saw this movie called the anatomy of murder with jimmy stewart as a defense attorney trying to get off his client who killed a guy who raped his wife. whatever. it was long and it was alright. i think the only black and white movies i like are the silent types and the heist types. riffifi came so close to doing both. I'm going back to the terrace. so bored.

those who fear tomorrow

long ago. in a time and place most never knew, there was a magazine. not just any magazine. this was something called terrorizer. a beat up photo copy of the original that a friend had got his hands on from the vast and dark underground. paradise lost was on the cover plugging draconian times and inside in the album reviews section was a band called integrity and an album called seasons in the size of days. like motohead, slayer and agnostic front in a gang bang the review said. main man dwid had been arrested and then released in question with bombings and he looked like a psycho fuck. i was an impressionable boy. it took me years to track it down and when i finally found the band it was those who fear tomorrow on a beat up cassette. humanity is the devil followed in a beat up used CD sale. i finally found seasons and realised it was a good album after a bunch of great ones. Now, Integrity has a new album out. This is their first proper album since Closure in 2001 but they've had a whole bunch of splits and eps and DVDs and what not so can't really call this a comeback. So far, it's awesome and Integrity continues to be just one of those bands from a time and place that most never knew.



today was an ideal sunday. a boring early evening led to watching the milk boil for a whole fifteen minutes. watching a solid frozen block of ice slowly crumbling into liquid milk. like a world was sinking into the sea. like deep impact but boiled and not deep fried. it was fun and i managed to switch off the gas before the milk boiled over.

steve von till's as the crow flies or steve kelly's spirit bound flesh? i think as the crow flies but sometimes i'm not so sure.

suffering makes great stories

no sleep. listening to blut aus nord and making a play list that's crossed the 100 hour mark. bored. waiting for the evening. done with lunch and another light drizzle. blame it on Laila.

Dwid's back. It's no season in the size of days but it'll do.

one hand to hold down and the other to panic
one eye on the task at hand and the other on escape
one half right here and the other in bed

strength through shopping

She asked him to pee on her face. He ran out of the house screaming. I blame it on the heat.

This year's shopping list is going to go totally out of control. I can feel it. I need new cabinets and a nice looking shelf. I'm stacking books on the floor and I've long since stopped trying to order my CDs alphabetically.

You know, after a couple of long hard days at work with crazy shit going on it feels good to sit down for a couple of noisy beers and watch as your friend's evening goes into the shitter. Most laughs I've had in a while.

I met some interesting people today. Interesting for all the wrong reasons. If you're husband gets to be cultural secretary then do you get to be the first lady of culture? I hope not. It's 11:27 pm and I really should get down to work. It depresses me and makes me very very irritable. Whine whine whine.

I might have a gk party at home next weekend. I hope to see things through and have time left over for the clean up. I need to get less fucked up over the weekends. Especially when I'm outside. Saturday morning's have not been fun for a while. I have vague memories of actually getting up around breakfast time and heading out to Airlines on Saturday mornings. Spending the entire morning and afternoon there and heading back home only to doll up for the weekend.

My parents are regarding me with suspicion. They always have and they've always known when something was up.

I'm getting new perspectives on how much parents will do for their children. I saw a strong man bend till his nose touched the floor. For his child. It blew my mind.

Tom G. sounds a bit hoarse but Eparistera Daimones is awesome.

Mickey Rourke seems to have become the flavour of the day with Iron Man 2. I think he might even kick Downey's ass but will hold the opinion till I've actually seen it. Anyway, turns out a bunch of local art fags have been catching up on Barfly and and a couple, even 9 1/2 Weeks. What did they watch when they were in school? How come no one ever mentions Johnny Handsome and Bullet. I hope I can find that clip on Youtube with Rourke and Whitaker and the Halloween story and just about any scene in Bullet that has Rourke in it. Those two movies need to be seen.

an inheritance

So today I finally pulled out granddad's books. 16 years after they moved next door and 16 years after the books were meticulously packed away by him. It was mostly old medical journals and texts and books, what seems like hazaar 70s and 80s bestsellers, puzzle books, Shakespeare and about 7 copies of the Bhagvad Gita. Buried among all of this though was what I'd been looking for. My summer holiday reading every year I went to Mangalore. Every year grand dad would pick and choose a row of books that I could read and the rows that I wasn't old enough for.

Erle Stanley Gardner
I moved to Perry Mason about a year after I was done with the Agatha Christie and Sherlock Holmes I think. Nice to see these again.

The Case of the Fiery Fingers
The Case of the Singing Skirt
The Case of the Foot Loose Doll
The Case of the Cautious Coquette
The Case of the Vagabond Virgin
The Case of the Ice Cold Hands
The Case of the Mythical Monkeys
He Case of the Mischievous Doll
The Case of the Shapely Shadow
The Case of the Horrified Heirs
The Case of the Deadly Toy
The Case of the Beautiful Beggar
The Case of the Half Awakened Wife
The Case of the Green Eyed Sister
The Case of the Dangerous Dowager
Fish or Cut Bait

Ian Fleming
I wasn't allowed to read the James Bond books or see his movies for the longest time. At least not under parental supervision anyway.

You Only Live Twice
For Your Eyes Only
Octopussy
On Her Majesty's Secret Service
The Man with the Golden Gun
Moonraker

James Hadley Chase
I still remember the first time I read No Orchids for Miss Blandish. It was a harrowing experience and also the first Chase book I ever read. Nothing ever came close to it after that but I think this was also when my love affair with pulpy crime fiction first started.

A Lotus for Ms. Quon
Cade
The Wary Transgressor
This Way for A Shroud
You Find Him – I'll Fix Him
The Sucker Punch
No Orchids for Ms. Blandish
Miss Shumway Waves a Wand
Mission to Sienna

Mickey Spillane
"I'm not an old man. I'm a young man something happened to." There's a million quotable quotes from Spillane and I love the man. These just put a big smile on my face.

I, the Jury
The Big Kill
The Long Wait
The Deep
The Body Lovers
My Gun Is Quick

Edward S. Aarons
I have no idea who this dude is or what the books are about but man the covers and the titles had me hooked the minute I saw them.


Assignment: Nuclear Nude
Assignment: Peking
Assignment: Carlotta Cortez
Assignment: Mara Tirana

Edgar Wallace
More classic crime fiction. More big smiles.

The Calendar
The Feathered Serpent
The Clue of The New Pin
The Gunner
The Yellow Snake

Carter Brown
The one series of books that totally had me curious. Just look at the titles and the covers. Damn.

The Streaked Blond Slave
The Ice Cold Nude
Who Killed Dr. Sex
So What Killed the Vampire
The Dance of Death
Sweetheart This Is Homicide/ Madam, You're Morgue Bound

Leslie Charteris
The dude who created the saint who was much much later played by Val Kilmer and a totally unexpected find.

The Saint on Guard
The Avenging Saint
The Saint Steps In

John Creasy
Another British crime writer most famous for his Toff and Gideon series.


The Toff in Wax
The Toff on Fire
The Man I Killed
Gideon's Badge
Wait For Death

I also have about 30 westerns that I'm too lazy to list and about another 30 really dodgy pulp fiction with naked chicks on the cover that I have absolutely no recollection of ever seeing. Must have been hidden away for most of their lives. Turning into quite a good Sunday and continuing to find out more about grand dad. Good times.

abcdefg live

Live videos from the tour to support ABCDEFG are finally out and here's a couple.

This is probably my favourite song from the new album. It's simple and yet so damn powerful...



Then this one's just super fun....

so much to do and so little time

I had a terrific apricot and peach cheese cake today in the hole in the wall. I like the vibe there even if it is too damn small.

Feeling tired and sleepy and decided to give up on coffee house so I could update you instead. Are you grateful? You should be, you sniveling little drama queen.

Goatsnake's set from Roadburn is making it's way round the internet and one of these days I'm going to send a fatty, put on my headphones and pretend I was there.

Bored and tired and sleepy but there's work to be done and the fear of unemployment to be put in people. Later.

the work ethic myth

The Work Ethic Myth

We have paved the roads that have led to our own oppression. Fear of the unknown, of rejection, has put brutes and villains in power. The fetters that restrict our arms and throats were cast by our own hands, just as we have set our own guards at the door. We drag boulders a thousand leagues to erect their palaces. We have established a system of education that celebrates sacrifice and creates generations of slaves. Hold hands in a ritual of deception. Hold hands in a ritual of desolation. Hold hands in a ritual of self destruction. We are the accomplice class: footstools for our masters, spineless bastards all.

this and that

Is all well? I hope so but I doubt it.

Holiday today. Ambedkar Jayanthi and Vishu together or some such shit. Already bored and that sick feeling at the pit of my stomach seems to have settled in and got itself a solid grip. Today would have been perfect to spend in coffee shops all day with the cool breeze, coffee and cigarettes. Back to not being sure why I'm doing what I'm doing. Back to being mildly irritated and generally dissatisfied.

I'm going to airlines in a bit. Then hopefully some shopping will put me in a better mood.

arundhati roy must die

hello again. bored. another sober night. another peaceful day. most of today went by like a slow goods train. i watered the plants today. that was my highlight.

i have nothing to say. at all. not sure why i'm bothering with this at all but what the hell, why not? not like i have lots to say otherwise. i'm really in the mood to watch the wire again. i tried watching love, sex and dhoka and lasted about 15 minutes. seemed like utter shit. i'm quite glad i stopped going to the theatre to watch hindi movies that i thought would be vaguely interesting. striker was alright in parts i guess but mostly pretty shitty as well. i also finally saw naan kadavul which managed to live up to all the hype and managed to disturb the shit out of me for about 15 minutes after it was done. not bad.

i hope to one day live a life of complete and utter dishonesty. till then all i can do is strive.

i think i like typing shit out without capitalizing.

oh, mom made her cream and fruits thingy today but her friends ate almost all of it.

sick of it all rock and i can't wait for the new album. if the song is anything to go by then the album should be awesome.

i need to hide or block a whole bunch of people on my gtalk and facebook but i've already hidden 30% of my facebook friends and i still have annoying people.

also, tired of getting myspace links on my gtalk. it's become almost impossible to just talk to the people i want to talk to without getting bombarded with a bunch of have you seen this/ heard this/ fucked this nonsense. I do not want to check out new bands/movies unless I find it somewhere and decide i might like it. understand?

then, what else? not much. chalo, later man.

Omar coming

Sitting around in the afternoon with nothing to do and watching clips from The Wire.

Some sort of tribute to the character Omar from the show. I like this song and the video's pretty cool.

"I want to be normal."

"But, you're not."

"I could be if you'd let me."

hallways of always

I hope to turn the key around and walk right out into blinding sunlight so white that I cannot help but fall to my knees and say, “Thank You.”

There's a sick feeling in the pit of my stomach. Like something terrible is going to happen. It's a feeling I can't shake off. Fucking drained man. I kid you not. I think it's generally the last few days. No sleep, my knee's been hurting again after a few years and I think I've had my fill of people and their curiosities. For a while.

This is the story of Tired and Tiresome. Two brothers who couldn't help but walk hand in hand to torment a poor soul who only needed to sleep. Wanted to sleep. There was no sleep, alas! The poor soul drifted and Tired and Tiresome took what they could. I think life is funny sometimes. I'm in a deep philosophical mood. I'm waiting for it to pass.

Fuck, the new Negura Bunget is worth every penny. This is really powerful shit. The opening song with the flute is the most haunting tune I've heard in a while. I feel like talking about this one will spoil the listening experience. Wow. Treat this with the reverence it deserves.

I wish Herzog had made Pagannini and not left Kinski to his own devices. Europeans and their names, no?

I'm off to watch Kinski doing Jesus Christ. Later.

the embalming of gods

I think I need to do something. About this constant need to fill you with garbage. I hope to keep away from certain elements. Make restitution to others. I need a new hobby. Something different. Don't worry. I intend to keep you around. Your secrets are mine to keep and keep them I shall. I'm getting to know more and more people. It's like as I grow older my list of acquaintances just keeps growing. I'm not sure what to make of it. Also, the Airline's gang is gone. It's over. Change has come and I find myself a remnant of something that has ceased to be. I missed it also. Like no idea when The End happened. The coffee still kicks ass and the service seems to have actually improved. Everything is more expensive now though. I think the music was on too loud. I'm hoping that tomorrow I'll wake up fresh and full of energy. I'm hoping that tomorrow I'll finish Declare and the djinns will live and Elena will die. I'm hoping Brokeback Mountain's actually worth the hype. I've got a couple of hankies in case it is. Today's match was a disgrace. What happens when you can predict a game like it's a Bollywood script. Unbelievable. Pune and Kochi get new teams. For astronomical sums of money. I want the Bangalore team to stay as it is. Keep all the South Africans. Kumble as captain for one more year. Praveen Kumar, Pandey, Dravid and Uthappa and we're set. Yes I realise I just said we. Can't help it. My village and it was awesome to watch them all play.

Got some business to take care of. Excuse me. (This Triptykon is one awesome band. I'm really liking this and have a sudden hankering towards the procurement of some Red Harvest CDs)

in shrouds decayed

I am your shrine, i am your womb
you'll rest inside of me, my flesh, I'll be your tomb.

Your words they came through foulest rain
A shroud of no good lies wrapping your remains

Your body draped next to mine
And hell ignores us; they've chosen to be blind

as if nothing existed here

I sit. Weary. Aching back and stiff shoulders. Bleary eyed and not sure what the time is. Or the day. I sit and wait for sleep. Sometimes I hope for it. Sleep's eluded me for months now. Since the big three O. I miss the swamp and everything that comes with it. I miss the swamp and its endless night. I miss the swamp. It used to scare me and then it didn't. The swamp became a refuge. I was up in it. Literally. Up to my neck. Then I stopped sleeping. Whats going on? I think I'm losing my mind. I think thats mostly whats going on.

I have a hundred rifles. Raquel Welch is in all of them. I'm listening to Tryptikon as we speak. Tom G Warrior's new band. Continuing along the merry lines of Monotheist. They're playing Roadburn too. I have a ridiculously large shopping list and it's only March. I shudder but grit my teeth and make a list.

I hope to one day own an island. That would be fun. With a waterfall or two and not too many bugs. Environmentally controlled would be preferable. Like a bubble or like Springfield in the movie but an island.

One of these days.

It seemed like we were traveling from signal to signal. Cutting our way through traffic, polluting the village with our cruel wit and cheap laughter. A hundred pointless Fridays. We thank God for this.

sick transit gloria mundi

The Coen brothers are remaking True Grit with Jeff Bridges filling in for The Duke. Wow. That news really cheered me up. Like wow man!

In other news not much is happening. I'm bored and a little tired and waiting for a phone call. Sad state of affairs. What to do i say? I kind of like it. My time on this earth is limited but I shall strive to be as retarded as I can be. No offence meant to the special people. I think I'm really happy and my room feels like my fucking room when I'm playing music. When my speakers are set and I'm sitting in the middle it's just perfect. Long play list happening. Farflung, Kongh, Orthodox, Red Harvest, Pensees Nocturne, Neurosis and Chumbawamba. I really like ABCDEFG.

I think in my humble opinion. Some would disagree.

Bored. It's worries me a little that people on my facebook always have shit they've done, are doing, have done and opinions and how come no one's ever bored. I'm fucking bored all the time. I think that's what really annoys me about facebook.

I'm off to see my first IPL match tomorrow. It should be good. Bangalore Vs. Rajasthan. Warne Vs. Kumble. 2 master tacticians finally going head to head. I'm backing Bangalore. Kallis looks great, Kumble's bowling well and Praveen Kumar is very effective. I'm liking Pandey as opener and Uthappa was terrific in the last game. Rajasthan basically has Yusuf Pathan and Warne. Looking good.

bongs away

Hello. it's been a while. Not a long while but some while at least. Life is moving at a very fast and predetermined pace and I'm struggling to catch up. Most times I'm only reacting as things happen around me and occasionally I'm letting things happen to me. It's a mostly liberating experience except for the catching up bit which is a little tiring.

The bong has been put away, the chillum has been relinquished, the bags have been packed and sealed and put away. I hope the bathtub doesn't feel lonely tonight.

I'm beginning to feel a slight and new sense of responsibility. It's there but not really adding anything in terms of weight. More when I figure it out I guess.

Sleep still plays truant. Rest continues to avoid his responsibilities. The rest of my relatives are doing well.

The Tim Powers book is progressing very nicely. For some reason I can never remember the titles of his books. I'll remember the stories, I'll remember specific scenes but no idea what the books are called.

I'm listening to gunshots amidst the early morning chirping of birds. It's not happening outside my window. It's not happening outside my window.

Tomorrow's a holiday. Today was almost a holiday. I'm done and dusted and considering a shave.

This Salem is a pretty good band except for a very muffled drum sound and slightly weird female vocals.

I think for the most part things are.

I think I'll leave in a bit and get that shave. I'd also like a massage and some time in a sauna. Preferably the non Finnish types.

I hope to finish some pending work this week. Long pending.

Then I might start on something new, wonderful and full of hope for a better tomorrow. Or I might just sleep.

"Don't anger the voices," she said. I think I'll listen.

the chasm rock!

We're aware now of a woman with a forged Canadian passport who flew from Istanbul to Beirut yesterday morning and a Beirut taxi driver remembers driving her to the Rue Kantari, where Philby lives, at sunset. She was carrying a case for a music instrument the size of an alto saxaphone. We made the Istanbul head get whatever he could from the room she had vacated: but the room had been cleaned and all they found were two slips of paper in the waste bin – on one was written, “Bueno Ano” and on the other “Medio Ano.”

It's been a while. The cold war is familiar, comforting and fun. Who needs terrorists and the Russian mafia when you can get the KGB. The magic is still only hinted at and I'm hooked. Will keep you updated.

Bugger, not done. There has to be some limit to your laziness. Pass the joint. Don't throw it.

I saw a place called Deja View Apartments. I want to go back there.

i like this

black jack jack black more cash less back

i broke my 30 game losing streak last night. It went up to 45 before I managed but I did eventually break it. Or maybe the dealer did.

long fucking day

long fucking day today. really long. not a lot else to say but i'll leave some pics and a video here to stare at later.

I like this more than the original

dirty dozen 2

I thought of calling this post dirtier dozen and then thought better of it. This is basically my part 2 of famous, beautiful women I want to do.

Angelica Huston just looks so fucking dangerous. She's intimidating in a way that makes me think of knives and burns and hot candle wax and all sorts of terrible things. She can do whatever she wants to me pretty much.

Debbie Harry has that whole combination of pretty, cute and innocently hot.


I was on a huge Tilda Swinton trip a while back which started with Julia and ended with Orlando. I want to go to there.

Heidi Klum. Looking at her photographs just makes me happy.


Faye Dunaway. There's something really bitchy about her. Maybe just her movie roles or whatever but damn she can be totally sizzling.



















Not sure why I needed 3 photographs of the Dame but I did and she's still just as pretty.

I first saw Marianne Faithful in a Metallica video. She's awesome. What else to say?

Shaitan. That and an issue of playboy in French are my only two reference points but man Roxanne Mesquida is uber hot.

I once saw all of The Princess Diaries just so I could see Anne Hathaway. :(

Anna Paquin. The Darkness and 25th Hour. Leave all of that X Men crap at the door.


Vera Farmiga. She so pretty. That is all.


Salma Hayek first came to my attention with her dance in From Dusk till Dawn. After that, she's just been getting hotter and also somehow prettier.

I think that's a dozen. It's a slightly uneven list but every single women here is quite beautiful. So I guess it's alright.

the evening redness in the west

When the lambs is lost in the mountain, he said. They is cry. Sometime come the mother. Sometime the wolf.

I first heard of Cormac McCarthy thanks to the Coen brothers and No Country for Old Men. When i saw that movie I was blown away by the dialogues and then when I read the book I found that all of the awesome writing came straight from the book. The Coens only had to cast and shoot. Anyway, that set me off on a search for more McCarthy and after the depressing Outer Dark and the coming of age western trilogy of All the Pretty Horses, The Crossing and Cities of the Plain I finally got my hands on Blood Meridian or The Evening Redness in the West.

McCarthy's west is quite unlike anything John Ford, Peckinpah or even the epic honour bound west of Leone. Instead, McCarthy's wild west is a savage unforgiving land where the only code is one of survival and honour is something no one's even heard of. The book begins with a boy referred to only as the kid as he leaves his home and sets out on a journey with no real destination. He joins the Glanton gang after some severe bad luck and comes into contact with Judge Holden. The Judge is a terrifying huge man, a polymath, ambidextrous and seemingly invincible. With the judge leading the motley group on an Indian scalp hunting mission across the border of Mexico the book basically becomes a tale of violence and survival. Seen through the Kid's eyes for the most part except when the character of the Judge threatens to overpower everything in it's path.

The violence in the book is only there to describe the nature of man and the extent he will go to to survive. The gang is a tight unit who describe all men of colour as nigger except the black man who rides with them and hunts with them. All men are equal and a part of the gang as long as they can shoot and scalp. The journey through the Kid's eyes is one of marked indifference. There's little the Kid thinks about. He thinks the Judge is full of shit but he follows him through hell and back. The judge is evil in a manner that is cold, intimidating and always carefully under control and held tight.

The scenes of slaughter are told with a detachment that makes it horrifying and McCarthy quite obviously loves his violence but never over plays his hand. Whether it's the Judge killing a young Indian boy he's rescued from a massacre, killing Mexicans and passing off their scalps as Indian or the lone black man in the party killing his namesake who keeps calling him nigger, the violence is always brutal but also always understated.

The book ends with the Kid bumping into the Judge again years after the scalping party. The two meet in a bar with a dancing bear working its magic on the bar and the Kid is now the Man. The Judge refers to the man as the 'last true dancer' and the Man still thinks the Judge is full of shit. Eventually the Man is attacked by the Judge although it's unclear if it ends in some serious sweaty fucking or if the Judge simply kills the Man.

The book finally comes to an end with the Judge dancing in a bar and proclaiming his immortality and an epilogue with a lonely figure marking fence holes in the ground with a bunch of people following him on the trail. It feels like the Wild West is over and done with and man has finally claimed this land.

This book blew my mind and along with the Border trilogy pretty much gave me a new outlook on the Wild West and the savagery of man. For those of you who read this but can't be bothered with the book, check out Ben Nichols and his Last Pale Light in the West. An absolutely awesome though thoroughly depressing set of 7 songs based on the book.


And the answer, said the judge. If God meant to interfere in the degeneracy of mankind would he not have done so by now? Wolves cull themselves, man. What other creature could? And is the race of man not more predacious yet? The way of the world is to bloom and to flower and die but in the affairs of men there is no waning and the noon of his expression signals the onset of night. His spirit is exhausted at the peak of its achievement. His meridian is at once his darkening and the evening of his day. He loves games? Let him play for stakes. This you see here, these ruins wondered at by tribes of savages, do you not think that this will be again? Aye. And again. With other people, with other sons.
The judge looked about him. He was sat before the fire naked save for his breeches and his hands rested palm down upon his knees. His eyes were empty slots. None among the company harbored any notion as to what this attitude implied, yet so like an icon was he in his sitting that they grew cautious and spoke with circumspection among themselves as if they would not waken something that had better been left sleeping.

wake up wake wake up

the good old days

You know how every now and then i crib about how badly i used to get wasted in the old days? and how I don't anymore? I think I'm wrong about that. Last night was epic. I think it was epic because I don't remember a lot of it. I remember You Give Love a Bad Name, the jaeger and the vodka but not much else. Also Final Countdown. That I remember. No recollection of coming back home either but I woke up in my own bed and there was a large empty bowl of chocolate mousse cake on my table. Which reminds me, one of the benefits of going to the same place for over ten years for your coffee and pizza is that you can go there after closing time and guilt trip the waiters into turning the ovens on again and get pizzas in the middle of the night. I could have really done with a chocolate frappe also but I figured asking them to turn on the blenders also would just be overkill.

Got conned by a very drunk dealer last night. Shame on me.

I'm on some really crazy high on fire trip. NP: High on Fire - Blood from Zion

bruised, bitten and torn

It's hot in the village. Like crazy burning hot. I'm sitting in an air conditioned room with my feet crossed and folded and dreaming of ice cold beer and hoping for rain. It seems it rained in parts of the village yesterday. I think it's pinko commie propaganda and all a lie. It's crazy hot.

The weekend just past found me happier than I've been in a long long time. Now that it's gone I'm annoyed and grumpy and would probably do well to hang a stay away sign around my neck.

Sachin scored a double century in a one day game yesterday. Something I thought was never going to happen with an India. It was a truly spectacular innings and I didn't miss a single ball that was bowled to him. Dhoni batted like his old self yesterday and it's nice to see him just come out and slaughter the bowlers. I thought we were done with that. Overall, it really was a spectacular batting display.

I'm annoyed and tired and sweaty and grimy now. Want to go home, want coffee, want a smoke and some lime juice. I want and want and want. I'd be surprised by my greed if I wasn't so used to it.

Devil went down to Jamaica

bones

This women looks so damn familiar just looking at her now gives me a headache. I'll be fucked if I can remember who but.

galas and the gloomy sunday

It's hot out. Luckily, no plans to venture out till 6 at least. Then another evening spent doing nothing or the same thing depending on the mood I'm in. It's hot out. The new Rotting Christ album sounds a bit mechanical and weird. It's great after one listen and some truly awesome solos and a fantastic reworking of Diamanda Galas's Orders from the Dead.

I spent most of last night watching Galas's videos on youtube. I don't know why. She depresses me more than Gira and Jarboe put together. Her version of O Death is truly haunting while Orders from the Dead is probably the single most depressing song ever written. Worse than Failure. This her doing Gloomy Sunday.

liz lemon life lesson

I watch as a thick fat globule of phlegm makes it's way out of his mouth. It arcs perfectly and bounces a couple of times off the road. I've never seen spit bounce off anything before. Something new everyday. I made some special chocolates. They're a little more special than I anticipated. It comes and goes and comes and goes and people will say I have no shame. Such is life. Hard, bitter, the mistakes I make are mine to swallow. I revel in it.

Today was another strange and mostly ridiculous day. I ate some really spicy food and now my lips are burning. Terrible. So anyway, this is not the same. This is boring. I find myself hoping for the world to end. Occasionally.

I feel like writing some poetry. I'll hold my breath and wait for the feeling to pass. I think I deserve thanks. Season 4 of 30 Rock and Tracy Morgan has some great lines. I used to have a crush on liz lemon. I will not lie and I think I'd still hit it.

I'm feeling a bit hungry. Little bit. I'll hold my breath and wait for the feeling to pass. I think I'll watch some television and hope for sleep. Later.

the kings of speed are off the road

So I'm back to working at my own place. After almost 6 years I think. It's mostly good. I say mostly because yesterday with no warning at all after 6 months of complete absence the acid came back. I think it's the work but what am I going to do? Give up coffee and eat curd rice every night?

my love

http://www.links2love.com/poem_generator.htm


Your skin glows like the pineapple, blossoms sexy as the jasmine in the purest hope of spring.
My heart follows your bongo voice and leaps like a cat at the whisper of your name.
The evening floats in on a great crow wing.
I am comforted by your hat that I carry into the twilight of chairbeams and hold next to my big toe.
I am filled with hope that I may dry your tears of whiskey.
As my ears falls from my shirt, it reminds me of your girl.
In the quiet, I listen for the last screech of the day.
My heated wrist leaps to my boxers. I wait in the moonlight for your secret bird so that we may fly as one, wrist to wrist, in search of the magnificient blue and mystical bus of love.

Yes, I'm utterly jobless and very very bored.

2009 and the movies

I saw loads of movies this year. Maybe more than at any other time in my life. These are my ten favourites from last year in no particular order.

Inglourious Basterds



Tarantino's best yet I think. This movie shows the director in top form. While before the set pieces in his movies were either over the top action sequences or clever dialogue loaded with pop culture, here it's pacing, tension, a strong story and some absolutely terrific performances, chief among them being Col. Hanz Landa a cheerfully sadistic German officer.

Bronson



Nicolas Winding Refn first came to my attention with his uber grim Pusher trilogy and Bronson is his new movie based on the life of one Michael Peterson who is Britains most violent prisoner played by Tom Hardy in breathtaking style. The movie's alright on its own but with hardy's absolutely stunning performance it becomes a bit special. On par with The Wrestler in terms of one absolutely crushing central performance making the movie a lot better than what it is.


Fantastic Mr. Fox



Wes Anderson's take on a Roald Dahl story about a chicken thief fox who's given up on the thievery only to go back to it for one last hurrah. His targets are the three most dangerous farmers in the world and his exit from a life of thievery is a grand triple header. Excellent cast and the whole stop motion thing works really well. Willem Dafoe as Rat is a show stealer and the movie on the whole is actually quite fantastic.

The Limits of Control



Jim Jarmusch's new one with the ice cream seller from Ghost Dog, and a whole bunch of cameos. I'm still not sure if this movie is specifically about anything. It's basically about a man who may or not be involved in diamond smuggling, the people he meets and his last job which is to kill a man. It's vague and never really explains anything but man, it's a trip from start to finish. The soundtrack by Boris helps too.

Thirst



Park Chan Wook's take on the vampire tale about a Catholic priest who turns into a vampire. His lust for human blood increases as does his desire for sex and everything goes horribly wrong soon enough. Not as steeped in melodrama as Lady Vengeance I guess but a fine tuned movie with some great performances and terrific atmosphere.

The White Ribbon



Michael Haneke's new movie about a little German village and the goings on there just prior to World War I. Bad things start happening in the village as narrated to us by the school teacher who himself is an old man now. Children are dying, people are getting hurt and no one's quite sure what to make of it. Haneke gives us no explanation or rationalisation for any of the happenings and everything is left unresolved with the breaking out of World War I. This movie just held me spellbound.

The Hurt Locker



I don't like war movies. never have and probably never will. The Hurt Locker is an exception to the rule probably because it's about people fighting a horrible pointless war and what makes them tick. Another solid central performance from Jeremy Renner as the reckless bomb disposal sergeant and some really tense scenes made this a really impressive movie.


Julia



Another fantastic performance, this time from Tilda Swinton as Julia, an alcoholic middle aged no hoper who decides to take up her neighbour's offer to kidnap her son away from an evil grandfather. The movie's pretty good but Swinton is spectacular.

Bad Lieutenant



I think Cage and Herzog should make a few more movies together. I thought this was going to be a remake of the grim and nasty original Bad Lieutenant with Harvey Kietel but its not. This is Herzog's own take on the film about a corrupt cocaine snorting cop in post Katrina New Orleans. Cage is fantastic as the corrupt cop investigating the murder of an entire family. Eva Mendes is his hooker girlfriend and has never looked as hot. She can also act surprisingly enough but really this is a Herzog/Cage show and it rules.

Martyrs



IMDB lists this as 2008 but fuck it, this has to be the most intense and downright disturbing horror movie in a long long time. Enough said.

I woke up this morning to a steady stream of phone calls and guilt tripping. Sometimes, people just won't let you be.

happy birthday bugger

red eyed and thirsty

So here we are again. There's an eclipse afoot and I'm pretty sure some virgins somewhere are being sacrificed. I've been told not to go out and not eat anything. Even got a phone call to make sure I was indoors. I'm hungry and restless and idle and that old cliché about idleness is very true. Bored and lonely, red eyed and thirsty. Also hungry and restless. Still.

I made a new compilation for the car. Yes, I was that bored. I thought last night that I would be productive today. Clean my room, catch up on some stuff etc and right now I have no mood for anything. I hooked up my speakers and Alkaline are doing their weird dub thing and it's all really a mood thing. I think too much when I'm like this.

I think I should sleep. Fantastic Mr. Fox really was quite fantastic. I hope it comes to the theaters here. In the Woods doing White Rabbit. What a fucked up crazy band. I need some In the Woods CDs. Later.

We are Gods dreams.

I think I need exercise. This laziness is getting tiresome. Jet City Woman after what seems like ages. Crows outside. Also a huge bat that terrorizes the night sky just outside my window. Traffic's back on the street. Is the worst over? I hope so.

A man walks into a bar and says “gimme a baccardi and coke”
The back of beyond repair welcomes the broken and the broke

mutual respect and peace

and she walked

Do you know women who become more and more attractive as they grow older? I do. This post is about one of them. It's about me also. Maybe. Mostly about her though.

12:40pm Lunch break. Everyone's out. Inmates trying to make the most of the 35 minutes on offer before going back to the torture chambers. There's chaos. Noise; both human and machine. The jocks are heading to the basket ball court. The smokers are heading for the road. The nerds are heading to the library. Father's looking, hands on hips, magnifying glass firmly entrenched in his pocket. And then she starts to walk.

Not a blade of grass on the back lawns. Not the leaves on the Ashoka trees. Not the boys playing basketball. Hell, not even the ball. Nothing moved when she walked. When she started from the back and walked all the way out of college. It was like the world stopped to watch her walk. 12:40 pm, every single afternoon. Lunch break was forgotten. Time moved on, we stood still and she walked.

Mr. Kennedy started talking about controlling impure thoughts in Tuesday morning value education classes. I started visiting the graveyard. She still walked out everyday and we all still watched.

Yes. Me too. I watched her walking out. I had a vantage point. Unfortunately I didn't have motivation. My maroon tinted vision just made everything seem pointless and it didn't help that both her brothers were my corex buddies.

Then one day at about 12:45pm maybe, she crossed the road. Came right up to where we were sitting. Regarded us with an icy fucking stare as she lit her navy cut.

“You're dropping me home. Let's go.”

Everything went sort of dark when she told me I was dropping her home. Everything disintegrated into sheer panic when she told me to come in. I fainted when I finally realised she'd been calling me by name.

I remember afternoons spent locked in a tiny room listening to her dreams, to her plans and wondering why I had none. Mornings spent walking through the graveyard talking about death and being morbid. Looking at each other through clouds of grey smoke from morning to dusk and breathing in that sickly sweet stench as if it would make us immortal and then doing the same thing every day for the next six months. She knew it was only a matter of time before everything ended. She knew this entire scene came with an expiry date and sure enough, everything ended. One whole scene. Like 2012 with fewer survivors. It had to.

We stopped our morning walks in the graveyard once the last body was buried, we slowly stopped everything. We said goodbye. I didn't see her for almost a year after that. When I finally saw her again it was like always. She'd talk, I'd nod along, she'd talk some more I'd nod some more and then she'd steal all my cigarettes and send me out for more.

She was a survivor. Still is. All of the skullfucks that life threw her way didn't change her. She walked through it all and thrived quite literally in the face of adversity.

When she left for foreign climes I thought I was finally saying goodbye. Life moved and took me places. I forgot mostly. Then, two years ago I saw her again. Watched for a while. Then watched some more. It took me a while to work up the courage to go say hi. What if she'd forgotten. What is she'd forgotten and would stare at me with that same icy cold look that used to freeze my blood when I was seventeen? Were those 2 little girls her children? I did say hi finally, eventually.

She was the same mostly. When the past was the present she was the only one who knew how shitty it was but now it's all rose tinted glasses and a longing for the good old days which were anything but good. She still talks a lot. Like non fucking stop. She still has her hopes and dreams. She still continues to thrive. In spite of the skullfucks and a life that sees her walking through minefields too often for comfort. Maybe because of it.

The world still stops when she walks. The world still looks. I should be resentful but I'm too busy looking. She thrives in the face of adversity. It doesn't matter how she does it. She thrives and I'm glad she's around.

We'd survived a scene that died. Maybe our corner of ganja park was special, maybe she still had some functioning brain cells, maybe it was something else entirely but I digress. This is still about her and she thrived. She lived, loved, lost and did everything beautiful people do I guess. It was like she took every curve ball life threw at her and somehow came out fitter, better, faster even if not always a winner.

She saved my life once upon a time and is still charging me for it. I wouldn't have it any other way.

2009

2009 in review. What might be a rambling, pointless and overlong review, much like that Deathspell Omega one somewhere here and you might wish I'd never put it up but what the hell, why not?

Things started well. Mostly. The 1st of the year started according to plan. Ihsahn ends A Grave Inversed with the closing riff on 21st Century Schizoid Man. I might be hearing things that aren't necessarily there. Yes, the years big shift was in finally getting out of jail. Finally saying fuck you, I don't need your job, a job or any job. Fucking awesome. I think I'd been building up to this for a while now with my serial jumping but I really enjoyed the final resignation. A bit more than when I quit Barclays.

This year was also great for trying new things and the opportunity. Thank you 2009. Nice of you.

I had an absolutely terrific holiday for 2 days in Suratkal. But it's Suratkal and an awesome holiday there is pretty much the default setting. That first morning was fucking epic. Thank you Kau. This was actually the only holiday I had. All other plans met with disaster and personal tragedy.

I finally met an old friend for the first time and lost all sense of proportion. It's been a pretty wild ride so far. Exhilarating even if a bit strange.

I lost my grandparents. It's not something I'm totally at peace about. Zen has not happened. It happened way too quickly. Like, what was the hurry? I'm a bit angry but mostly just sad. In other news I'm off to Mangalore next weekend for my third 13th day ceremony in the last 5 months. Terrible.

I heard a lot of music this year. More different shit than ever before. I didn't read much though, Hardly. I did read Toll the Hounds and Dust of Dreams in the same year. I'll read it this year too when it finally gets here and I get my own copy. Don't remember reading anything else with that much excitement. Saw some really fantastic movies but mostly I think 2009 was all about the music.

Oh, by the way I almost forgot. I turned 30 this year. I had no epiphany, no morning after sickness or revelation. I was just another day older.

I had a mostly sober year. Sober as in calm and peaceful at least when it came to hanging out with the boys. Wednesday nights meant going to Tavern a lot and we started a mid week pit stop. Weekends were spent mostly getting hammered but with very little driving around and behaving badly. It was pretty good.

My 2009 sounds a bit drab. I hit a guy. He was asking for it and he provoked me but I probably shouldn't have. Still, I felt pretty good once my heart went back to its normal rate.

Okay, After is an altogether different beast compared to the first two albums. There are elements but the Spiral Architect rhtyhm section seems to have more freedom here. Also the saxophonist adds a very avante garde feel to the sound. This is quite a dense piece of work from Ihsahn. It doesn't have the immediate catchy feel of Angl but I've been listening to it for a while now and it's mostly awesome. I think as good as Angl, probably better but also a bit different. This fellow's brilliant but I'm also totally digressing.

This year I would like to make a few changes. I don't know what exactly but I'll write about it here once I know. I'm quitting cigarettes as of tomorrow morning. I think it's big deal even if I've quit 4 times in 2009. I'm also going to take up swimming and yoga.

Coming back to 2009, it was a strange year. It was filled with chance and coincidences and weird skullfuck moments that more often than not ended with more skullfucking. I had some absolutely terrific highs and also some totally horrendous lows. I put my plans in place very nicely and everything turned out pretty fucking well but then I realised it wasn't really enough. I wanted different things and freedom only means something if you know what to do with it. Some of it worked, some flopped but I'm going to try it all. Like I said at the start, awesome.

Okay, it's back to being really cold. I'm going to go back downstairs. I hope I haven't forgotten some epochal moment. I don't think so. I also don't think I can give the past year any sort of rating. Too much happened. Good things and bad things that were not comparable to each other in any way. A year pretty much filled with some strange confusion. Like it wasn't sure which direction it wanted to go in. I managed as best I could although I did have a few moments of weakness.

If I had a chance to do it all over again I'd do the same shit all over again. I think that's a fair year.