i really like joaquin phoenix's character in the village, right? i just think he's great at portraying a paladin; he's fearless, right? not in a "i am a retard who can't retreat from a fight," or anything; in fact, nothing like that. he runs away, right? but he isn't afraid, he just acts prudently. on top of that he just seems so genuinely good. i was in the middle of telling jenny that lucius hunt was one of the only sympathetic good guys in film in recent memory, when she said of course! that he was some huge sociopathic weirdo. is that true? what ever. he still is a great paladin i figure. of course, i'm just about the only guy who likes this movie. jenny made the point that the REAL twist of the film is that ivy is the main character, not lucius. anybody faulting it on the whole "scooby doo" twist or anything kind of misses the point. i feel like fuckers won't forgive m. night shyamalan for tricking them in the sixth sense. i mean- it is all about the suspense, isn't it? o, speaking of clever things jenny said & horror films? i've been trying to simmer american horror to some crude form, discarding the dross. largely based on the idea that japanese horror is all based on something ill-dignified happening & then everyone dying of anxiety. the american corellary escapes me. early zombie movies are race allegory, right? & then there are the gender issues in the 80's & 90's. but jenny theorized that the big thing about american horror is the violation of the home, of the house. the serial killer is upstairs, the zombies are trying the break in, the spiders are infesting the place, i am hiding under your car with a butcher's knife, ad naseum.
few among your kind are aware that you are not alone. despite all the clear evidence otherwise. you kill gorillas for the same reason you wiped out the other hominids. like must kill like- this is the way of tribes; indeeds, if the hive of heaven were to clash against another hive (o heaven's hive!) there would be black blood spilt. do thee fair by thy species, fools, & stand united against the wheels of fire. but you will not; in fact, even i quake. the mood passes over me like chills across a grave. you are not alone, mankind, for at the very least i walk amongst you, like a clownfish amongst the anemonie. for fuck's sake. i shuttle between two worlds on the ferry boat; but i am of only one. a swath of abandonment may mar my face, my soul & self, but so be it. i am babbling. the fuck if i care. the sussurus (is there any name better for this phantasmagory?) is awash within me. fee fie fo fum! clash & rattle sword & shield! aye, brimstone too. the fuck you say, gentlemen! indeedd, the fuck you say. tonight my thoughts travel to spheres & realms. places we trod before your kind was awake. i tell you over: this is a lie made flesh! fucking smoke & mirrors, traps & tricks. bullshit, total bullshit. the swath, the school of coloured fishes. i am here tonight torn between my jolly mood & the misgivings of my heart. indeed- by nature i am all smiles. life is a cabaret ole chum! but the cancer of my chest sings another song, that tumor called my heart. in the end there is no real grim to back my mood. i have a jenny, a bastion, a jewel worth fighting for, a sword as sharp as my own self. i have an olive, who proves that there are soldiers willing to fight the battle. there are other's of course; most escribe to their own mythologies. aw hell. step up to the plate i say. there is good, there is evil, there is m. pick a fucking side.
sometimes i wonder at weird meat-bag functions. like, do other guys get all fucked up if they masturbate too near to when they have to go to the bathroom? its mostly a when-i'm-drinking thing, but every so often my lusts & wastes get their ends tied up in knots. i mean, i guess that is what happens; a tube-twisting kind of thing. maybe i have prostate cancer or something! man cancer. what i want is some kind of hypertrophic immune system that eats all the rest of my cells, really. also, there is this pressure-zone thing i have- this sort of cold-front, freeze-breeze thing. i can just get hit with a chill that makes my bowels want to void. have i mentioned this before? until about junior high, i thought this was the way everyone's digestive system worked, until one day i was playing m.e.r.p. (middle earth role playing, by iron crown) & mentioned something about closing the window because it was making me have to take a shit. fuck, human beings are disgusting. anyhow, another time, when i was still speaking with my biological father, we went outside to put up christmas lights? since he lived on some super-suburban street where every house went balls out on x-mas. anyhow, he got hit with the cold whammy too! so maybe it is some crappy gene. fuck, man, being a person is such a sucker's game. you can tell it is a pretty bleak day so far- i keep talking about the weaknesses of the flesh. well no more! starting now i initiate plan: PAISLEYGOWN! i'll be the prettiest girl at the prom (where prom is equal to ragnarok).
a black carriage drawn along by horse's whose hooves strike into flame. clip-clop across the ground & what the hell, their hooves are cloven as well. a sable coach filled with wasps, while we are at it, windows criss-crossed with spiderwebs strong as steel girders. do you think i even fucking care? fuck the whole thing. i roll into town on an iron chariot drawn by brachiasaurs. i can't help but watch people fall apart the longer they know me; some kind of vicious half-life. drawn into the oubliette of my shadow; as innnocent as a toadstool sprung up from lightning me. you'll be stung by my wyvren, my wasp. i'll prick you! i'll have your head on my silver platter, baptist. but i'll be ever so patient. suns will swell & dim to dwarfdom if need be. i'll be here in the black place, in the black palace. i've got 100,000 ice ages in me, i've got 65 million years under my belt.