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.