Monday, March 29, 2010

"I want to be normal."

"But, you're not."

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

Sunday, March 28, 2010

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.

Sunday, March 21, 2010

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

Saturday, March 20, 2010

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.

Wednesday, March 17, 2010

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.

Monday, March 15, 2010

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.

Friday, March 05, 2010

Thursday, March 04, 2010

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

Monday, March 01, 2010

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.