Saturday, November 29, 2014

Free Writing - Take 65

I'm always bothered when someone tells me a person is a good father or mother, especially when they are filled with hatred towards others, based on their appearance. You would think, the birth of a child would scare someone into acceptance. Worried, that something might happen or occur that would cause their child to be different, but it doesn't. The hatred filled inside someone, still remains today as it did before the birth of their child. The disdain for anyone who stands up against oppression brings this person out of their bigoted shell. I wonder if their child were to grow up gay, if they'd cast them in the river, hoping god would sort them out. Or would they feel they'd failed god and slaughter the innocents? It sounds horrid. These words I say are horrible, but they are the things I wonder. How can anyone look at their child, their flesh and blood and feel hate for any other human being, simply based on their appearance. That child, is like someone else's and one day their child and that other child will cross paths and wouldn't it be nice to live in a world where both children might smile at each other. Share the commonalities between them, the humanity and maybe down the road, share that with their kids? That's how change works. When the birth of someone's child can't change their inner bitterness and hate, what chance does that child really have, but to grow up angry at what others have, with resentment instilled inside them, by a parent who is simply ignorant?

Tuesday, November 25, 2014

Free Writing - Take 64

A one handed catch and then another one. Snow Snow Snow. It's all anyone can talk about. Kid lies dead in the middle of the street and we talk more about uncontrollable weather events. Was it always like this or have our minds become mush? I see people posting, those I called friends, with so much hate in their hearts, that it almost makes me wish they could feel that pain, just briefly. The autumn chill turned to springtime today. I walked outside, took a deep breath, but it smells like winter. The party is over and on to the next. The turkey, hen, squab or duck. What will we have? Who knows? Who cares? I wish my brother would walk in that door and say he's done. He's back and I wish I could walk without pain. I wish my mother was here and my grandmother....scratch that, maybe not together, haha! I look forward to shoveling snow. Funny. I've stayed in almost every day, missing the warmth. Missing the beautiful foliage. Missing it, but not. The snow, I will embrace. Everyone walks like I do in the winter. No stares. I feel so much for those who are disabled, who must endure the stares of judgment, so much more than pity or sympathy. I empathize, but don't pretend to know their pains of knowing it can never change. I hope for it and know one day, whether I can afford it or not, it will have to be done. I can't live like this. Looking at an older blog, from two Thanksgivings ago and reading about my daily walks. I miss them so. Even then, pain in my knees and back, but not this crippling pain. Not this agony. Look at me, complaining of my physical pain, while people starve, look for shelter and die in the streets. How about that storm we're going to get? Might make someone late or so I hear. Problems like that makes you wonder, how people will ever deal with loss.

Monday, November 24, 2014

How Many Observed?

How many observed which one of your friends cheered the executive action taken by Obama this week? The day after, out of my 592 friends on Facebook, there were 27 posts regarding it. Twenty were negative, suggesting that the US was now part of Mexico, that unemployment and crime would go up or that Obama was Muslim (yes, still with this nonsense). Seven posts were in favor. Two were die hard liberals and then there were the five friends who posted...no comments, just a post. All Irish immigrants. All who have moved here and gained citizenship in the past two or three years. What does it say when those born and who spent more than half their lives in another country, show more patriotism and pride than most of us born here? Regardless of your views, you have to start questioning one who claims to be pro-America, who is against the principals the country was founded on. My Irish friends seem to understand.

That friend, whose skin is so thin, that any comment regarding their appearance, sends them either scurrying into their rabbit hole or releases a rant about how people need to respect their bodies, their choices and their life. Who notices when this friend has post after post remarking on someone's appearance, their beliefs or their musical preferences? Their choice of clothes, religion or haircuts? Their team affiliation, their food likes and dislikes or their mode of transportation. The hypocrisy is so deep with this person, I'd love two minutes to out them for it. I won't out of respect to those around them, who would then have to make a choice.

Those same people who posted about Buffalo and their "concern," were the first to say "what will happen to me if it snows four to six inches? Why are people so into minor tragedy? People died in Buffalo, but you might have to leave a half hour early to get to Aunt Edna's house. The world might just stop. Or you do what so many of us do. You sit down with your family and have a quiet Thanksgiving and you get together with the rest at your convenience and theirs. Isn't that what being thankful is about?

The multitude of stories of this business or individual doing right by others? While media centers on the atrocities and the lack of humanity, if you look carefully, you'll see the guy at the supermarket buying seven or eight of the smaller turkeys. Ever ask this guy or girl why so many? It's usually a quick story. The church, temple, center, hospital or other giving group. It's usually to guarantee that someone else gets what we all take for granted. I seek those stories, because I know that night I will probably tear up, thinking about those who can't sit down and be thankful for something as simple as a meal with someone they love.

Did anyone notice how calm the rain was tonight. Well at least where I was. I learned a new word today, pluviophile. Someone who finds joy and peace of mind on rainy days. I adore the rain and I pray for it nearly every day. It's when I feel the most alive and when I want to go out. Is it me being contrary or is it because I know I have those parts of the world that everyone avoids to myself. Have you ever went swimming in the rain. It's one of the most wonderful things ever, but most run for shelter, leaving the lake, pool or ocean, because why? They don't want to get wet?

How many observed someone else's happiness this weekend and were content with knowing that's all that matters? How many read a note or e-mail from someone else about their happiness and it made their day? How many struggled to walk, to stand and chat, without wincing in pain, but then forgot all about it, because of one sentence that made them laugh? Everyone will ask you what you are thankful for and honestly, if they're truly my friend, I'll ask them what they are and when their done, I'll say "I'm thankful for those things."

Sunday, November 23, 2014

Why Do People....

...say they want someone funny, but go after everything but?
...say are there for you, when they never are when you don't need them?
...say they are thick skinned, yet run when called out?
...ask how you are, when all they truly want is to talk about themselves?
...say they like something, just to prove you wrong?
...say something, just to be part of a conversation, but add nothing of substance?
...say they aren't racist, when they have racist beliefs, even if they are few?
...seek so much attention from social media, but when it is private, want none of it?
...interest me so, when I know what they will say before they even say it?
...think it hurts me when they unfriend me?
...talk about the weather, if they are not travelling or bracing for a catastrophe?
...respect some and not others, yet have no reason for either?
...cause me to fantasize about knowing them (some better), while most I wish I could release?
...say they have overcome things they have caused?
...miss people, but refrain from writing them? Is it because the fear of not getting a response?

Thursday, November 20, 2014

Free Writing - Take 63

A bagel with hummus, stuffed clams, a nice chat with an old friend (albeit electronically), a documentary on cave paintings. Sounds boring, but these are the kinds of things that go into a near perfect day lately. I don't go out anymore. Some would laugh at the life I've been living. Out to me, is checking the mail. Sitting in the backyard, eating a sandwich. The outside world hasn't seen me for months. Literally months. The recluse life isn't that bad at all. Despite what people might think, as time has gone on, I've drawn myself away from the social media pit that I'm sadly known for. I feel more connected to strangers who define themselves in 140 characters. They show emotions and disgust and love for me like others, but I don't have to hear about their kid's illness or their day in court. Their traffic woes are for their real life friends, but their tales of true horror, the one on screens, is shared with me and the others who get them. I've never been one who looks for likes, stars or any other kind of website affirmation of my nonsense, whether the people are those I know or not. I simply like sharing things I find interesting, funny or maybe even revealing a little of myself for those who might not know me to view. It's usually for me and for those I feel might enjoy it. Recently, I feel so connected, despite very infrequent interactions with four people. None on Facebook, although there is one person, who has made me feel good about myself and has given me a laugh when I needed it most. The others are virtual strangers. People I most likely will never meet and may very well fade away from or they from me, but for now they interest me and I hope I interest them. Life is different. Exciting? No. I think I'm done with exciting for the time being.

Wednesday, November 19, 2014

Quickie Review - The Taking of Deborah Logan

As always, I don't do spoilers, so not really a review, more of a critique. Let me start by saying I normally despise the found footage genre. It is usually a hindrance to a decent idea and limits what we are allowed to see. There are exceptions, but this one stuck to its guns.

I had heard nothing about this film other than praise by friends on twitter. I gave it a try and realized instantly, it was going to be about something other than initially proposed. The premise is pretty standard, with the wrinkle being that this film appears to almost not happen. The three main characters are female and in many ways, share nothing in common, which works. Even though two are mother and daughter (Jill Larson & Anne Ramsey), you can see that there is something odd between the two. We find out later, it's a little cliche in some sense, but it doesn't bog down the plot. The interviewer/researcher Mia (Michelle Ang) is also very cute, but no nonsense. While she's not on camera often, you get the idea, she's driven, which plays well into what happens with the mother and daughter.

What works so well is that the horror is more in the confusion for the first 80 minutes. There are also extremely funny lines thrown into exceptionally tense scenes that relaxes the viewer and enhances the following fright. The idea that there is a reason for this being filmed also ties up the usual loose ends of "why," as in, why wouldn't you drop your camera and get the heck out of dodge. While I usually despise open endings, this one is wonderfully crafted, because it can be viewed as THE ending or the new beginning. I personally hope it's the ending, but we'll see. The film does seem to be getting some positive buzz on the web and that usually leads to sequels.

One thing that should be noted for horror/gore fans is that this movie might not stimulate your sense of what horror should be. The movie is extremely well acted, with the actress who plays the title character, giving a truly remarkable performance as the troubled elderly woman. The few scary, violent scenes are more mentally disturbing than visually. This plays well throughout and allows us to get comfortable in that we won't be terrified by anything we see, well, for a bit. I am very rarely more than pleasantly surprised, but this one truly stayed with me and deserves to be spoken of as one of the top five found footage films to date.

Laughter

I miss laughter. I mean the silly laughter over nothing. The laughter over a connection between two good friends. The stuff that starts over one thing and carries on to all those other things throughout the night. The kind you wipe your eyes, but it doesn't help. I miss that laughter I got from seeing the body of another jerk with the uncontrollable flailing of someone who has lost it completely. That contagious laughter. I can't get that through the computer screen. Then again, only one or two even try anymore. I can't get that through the phone or on TV or even from my memories. Not the laughter I'm talking about.

I guess for now, I'll settle for the chuckles, the smirks and the giggles. It beats the alternative.

Saturday, November 15, 2014

Free Writing - Take 62

I just woke up, so I'm limiting myself to three minutes. I usually attempt humor when I first awake, but lately I've found the outside world, at least the one I'm connected to through technology, to be a sad place. Everyone wanting affection for their woes, reminding me of those children I miss, who care not if the attention comes from their positive or negative actions. They just need it. The nanny doesn't replace the parent, the parent doesn't replace both parents. The kid who wants to have a catch or to have a tea party. Both parents too busy, but the reality is we're all too busy for any adult who desires this attention. Some even use their children, to entrap us. Playing on the emotions they know some of us can't let go of. Then there are those who need something, but know not what it is. New pressures, white lies or just loneliness. I sit back in my big chair laughing, occasionally a tear.

Friday, November 14, 2014

Snowpiercer - Why I Disliked The Hipster's Citizen Kane

I never give any details in my mini-reviews, but wanted to get a few things off my chest about this film. I know I don't watch films like most of those I know and maybe it's a curse. Who knows?  I'm not claiming to be smarter or say my opinion is any better than anyone else's, I'm just saying this movie is too cool for school. Everyone is claiming this film to be brilliant and such a revelation, but anyone who watches a lot of films, especially films heavy in symbolism, metaphors and allegories, realizes that just paying attention gives away a ton. In Snowpiercer, too much was given away.

Spoilers ahead

Stop reading now if you haven't seen it, but I'll just state what ruined the movie for me.
Gilliam - anyone who saw Brazil, know Terry Gilliam directed it and this was an homage to him. That being said, the name, plus the name actor playing him, you knew he wasn't going to be a minor character. You also knew he would not make it.
The Train - forcing the characters (the classes) to look either forward (up) or back (down) depending on their view of their class. Yet, both are only allowed to understand these two directions. Even when given the opportunity, they don't see anything, but death and quickly look away. They have now view of the world but laterally, which is how most capitalistic societies view life.
The entire middle of the train is bright and the characters choose what they learn. The kids, about power, because knowledge (controlled knowledge is power), but then the father teaches the daughter to look, literally outside the box. It's right then when you realize that the father isn't the Key (yes the lock breaker isn't the key, he's the tool). So early on we know she will be humanities savior, but we also get the sense that she needs a mate and Curtis appears to old for her. We know for sure that she is "the one" when he stops her from stabbing the man he's holding down. Keeping her pure, like the soil he explains to her.
The scene in the classroom is a metaphor for our easily brainwashed class system. The middle class, so desperate to avoid the tail section, follows instructions so blindly, that they will do anything they are told. There is the idea they have an opportunity to excel, but really, they are raised simply to become the faceless henchman (which we see the scene earlier wearing masks). Realize that the whole idea of not killing the tail member, was to keep the balance. Just like in today's society, you can't expel the poor, because who will clean the toilets and paint the houses. It's all necessary, because without poor and the middle, there can be no rich. But notice as they closer to Wilford, there are no window. They too live a sheltered life, only socializing with each other in a life of decadence an loneliness. Fur coats and drugs represent the materialistic nature of this class.
I won't go into detail with the eggs and the simplicity of this symbolism.
Remember also the view of the frozen seven. This is taking place while the kids are being fed their propaganda. The kids are learning how the world works, while the father shows her daughter, the statuesque figures of those who came before them. Those who came up short, but who did what others didn't dare. Think of our world and all of the statues and who they represent.
Then there is the passing of the torch, well at least the supposed passing of the torch. It's important to realize that Curtis had to make it. For the only way to keep a society calm is the allure of a better life. That anyone can be the one in charge, no matter your status. It's that false hope that keeps civility in times of chaos. This too was a glaring mistake in the film's attempts to be clever.
Finally, if you paid attention to this common theme of leaving your mark, you know that once Timmy disappears, you are left with the picture of the artist. The two boys are shown a few times in those sketches. Both parents die. One of the children follows the lead and the other, the more cunning of the two, defies the odds. When the two characters make it out, into that bright world, they come across the polar bear. The bear shows no aggressiveness, which tells us literally he is not hungry and spiritually, that this is a sign they are powerful and the snow, rebirth and purity. This tells us they will survive.

There are also a few "ode to" films, directors, etc, which are common in this director's films. I personally didn't like the film, because at no point did I ever feel like I was being challenged mentally. The reality is, after seeing it and reading some of the comments by the actors and director, that this film wasn't meant to be taken literally at any point other than the beginning and the end. The earth is being destroyed, but no matter what it will survive, so we better find a way.

Wednesday, November 12, 2014

Veteran's Day Peace

Veteran's Day is such a welcome break on social media. Universal praise for one day. No complaints about traffic, the kids or the weather. It would be disrespectful to complain on the day we honor men and women who have seen horrors we can only imagine. Many still trying to forget those memories, while we try and remember where our keys are. For one day in November, we honor those who have earned the right to complain and usually don't. 

An old man stands in an outdated uniform. The bugle sounds and he barely hears it. Shots fired, symbolic acts, that ironically send some scurrying. The politics of war is so common, yet on this day, we avoid talking about the politics. We simply honor the men and women who courageously defended our freedom. How will we honor these men fighting today? Neither defending our freedom or protecting us in many ways. Bringing democracy or some form of it, to lands that have no use for our brand. Our war on terror seems almost comical, when every fear I have is right here at home, by businesses, banks and food commissions. Where are our soldiers for this?

Then of course there is our favorite pastime, never seeming to be affected by the horrors of the world. Social Media. The irony of seeing my friends post pictures of their fathers and grandfathers, yet voting for the people who have cut their benefits and who, had they been born ten years earlier would have sent their kids to war. Calling themselves patriots, as they pull the red lever, casting a vote for the men and women who keep one of seven homeless from what they deserve. Yes, one in seven homeless adults in this country are vets. Staggering to think. Then there are the liberals who praise their fathers and grandfathers, so proud of those who answered the call of war, but can't brave a windy day to vote for their support. 

And then there is the mirror I must look in. Someone who doesn't understand war. Doesn't understand the pride. Doesn't understand the killing, the senseless killing. Young boys, men, fighting a battle against something the don't understand. Being taught that the enemy is evil, that killing them is protecting their loved ones, but then must return to a country that embraces those same people. The confusion must be awful. The sounds of mortars and bullets, replaced by the fireworks and horns. I worry about one of the people I care about most in this world. Chosen a life, now twice, that I will never fully comprehend. Sacrifices I'd never make. For my family, yes, but not for some figment of my imagination called pride. Pride is seeing a child grow into man, then a father, then a grandfather. Pride is not visiting someone in a hospital or telling them the noises are just a celebration. 

I thank every veteran who has given a part of their lives, themselves and given so much up to create what we have. I respect the choices of those who continue to do so. I just wish we, the ones who praise them, realized that praise doesn't put food on their tables, clothes on their backs or roofs over their heads. I just wish we showed them this much respect when we defended those who have done nothing to help them, including the military. It's time these men and women, all of them, were treated with the same respect the other 364 days of the year, as they are on Veteran's Day. 

Monday, November 10, 2014

Lists

Americans are obsessed with lists. Christmas Lists, Top Ten Lists, Shopping Lists, Hell, when I was a kid, one of the most popular books was aptly titled, The Book of Lists. We're obsessed. I make lists all the time and while I try to use the universally accepted limit of ten items, they rarely end up that way. That being said, lists are a terrible thing.

I have never, not once in my life, used a shopping list. You know what I'm good at? Shopping. I buy what's on sale, forgoing the avocados this week and buying some peaches that looked ripe and at a bargain. I walk down every aisle and find things I'd never think to add to the holy list, but now see the large can is but 89 cents. Lists keep us from exploring.

The inspiration for this, was not a rebuttal to a friends first blog, in which she lists things, proclaiming lists are a part of her life. No, this was inspired by a comical moment had at 5:18 in the morning. I went to get a glass of water and gazed in the fridge. Two slices of cheese, one egg in a carton for a dozen, some cream cheese, olives, salsa and a plethora of juices and other drinks. I winced at the thought that there was nothing to grab and eat, not even a delicious tomato or maybe some microwaveable item in the freezer. I sighed, then went to leave the kitchen. Atop the dining room table was a grocery list, developed by another, with the plan shopping today.

Tomatoes, tuna fish, celery, milk.

An empty refrigerator and a conversation about tuna salad and a desire to hold off on cold cut consumption and this was the master list. It made me wonder how one person looked into an empty refrigerator and saw the need to grab items with reckless abandon to fill the void and the other saw the opportunity to make a snack. The one egg, masked by the large carton? One would think peaking inside before making such a list would be obvious, but that isn't the way we think when we make a list. We make haste and I won't go into the cliche, but we all know what that makes.

As someone who always ate their way through the fridge without shopping for more, I am always perplexed by other's shopping habits. They buy only what they need for the next meal and invariably cause themselves two or three more trips during the week. I hate wasted time, despite having so much of it to waste. I can't stand to watch someone open a cabinet, put a plate in, close it, grab a second plate, open the cabinet, put it in, close it, then grab, well you get the idea. These valuable seconds aren't going to change the world, but they grow our inner frustration. It's like folding laundry. It's one of those things in life so many hate and do only because of the wrinkled repercussions. I laugh. It takes less than four minutes to fold an entire basket full of clothes, yet, people will find ways around it that take three to four times the span. Sure life is trial and error, but so many of go back to those wasteful ways.

I have lists of movies in my head that are ever changing and once they hit paper, I'm never satisfied, remembering a movie that needs to replace another. I have made lists of my accomplishments and faults and find that sometimes what I see as a positive moment was really a negative and those flaws that so many point out are rarely as bad as they seem.

In friendships, relationships and family matters I have always been known for my photographic memory. I remember complete conversations word for word and whenever anyone needs information or confirmation, they ask me what that name, face or place was. I usually quickly reply and they commend me on this ability. Ironically, when it doesn't suit them, it's called selective or I'm told I only remember what I want. We all know how that goes, because our greatest assets are always seen as flaws to those who don't share them.

Back to lists. I have a ton of lists in my head, but to share them would open me to ridicule and maybe, like with most lists, I'll forget one of the key components. I've aspired to make a list (more so a book) of the 1000 greatest movies I've ever seen. The reality and hindering facts being, nobody cares what I like, nor do they want to pay to see it. I always find that I stop, because it's daunting to take on something that will essentially be for my own pleasure and will most likely change within a week of it's finish. It's similar to my worries, that this afternoon, I'll mix the tuna salad, slice the tomato, pour the milk into my coffee and go for the bread to create the vessel for my food and it won't be there.

It wasn't on the list.

Friday, November 7, 2014

What If Heaven Exists?

And everyone is there?
The people who have hurt you.
Maybe beaten, raped or even killed you.
The people who made life on earth hell.
Those who you felt were bad, but had been absolved of those sins.
What would be so heavenly about it.

What if it was truly heaven as we think of it?
The people who you love are missing.
The indiscretion you didn't know about, keeps your lover from joining you.
Your daughter who bullied her classmates is nowhere to be found.
Your son who didn't listen when she said no, is absent.
What would be so heavenly about it?

What if heaven exists and it's only as good for you as you made it for others?
Would you want to go?
Would that never ending look into the mirror be pleasant or damning?
Would you want to be treated as those you love, those you call friends treat others?
Would you want a life like the ones you gossip about or ridicule?

What if this the concept of heaven is that we're all given something perfect?
We are given equality.
We are given choices.
We are given free will.
We are given repercussions.

What if heaven is what you make of it?

Wednesday, November 5, 2014

I Voted: The Most Pretentious C***s You Ever Want To Meet

Let's get this out of the way. Voting is a good thing and it's a right, not a privilege. We owe this right to those who fought, protested and died before us. We are given a single voice with the idea, a poor one, that we can then choose who represents us. That in theory is a beautiful thing. The problem arises when we are only given two choices. This is like walking into a restaurant and being told the vegetarian dinner choices are steak and ice cream. You're given a choice, but in reality, your morals allow you only one and it's not even close to what it is advertised. So let's get it out of the way, the right is a right, but it's a poor choice generally.

Thanks to social media, all the little cunts who voted decided to post on their Facebook pages how they are superior to those out there who didn't vote. They usually followed this up with "you can't complain if you didn't vote" or "I don't want to hear it if you didn't vote." Hey fuckers, ever see Sophie's Choice? That's a fucking vote. That's a life changing decision that takes balls and forever alters someones life. That is a decision which warrants you the balls to say "don't you ever, ever question me again, because I made a decision you can only dream of."

Voting between creepy liberal gangster fucker or racist conservative fucker isn't a choice. Choosing between which guy distributes the middle class' wealth to which Fortune 500 company, is hardly a choice. And you ignorant fucking cocks who think you're paying for someone else's insurance because of ACA, stop the nonsense and read a fucking book. More people are paying their own way than ever before and you know why? ACA! Oh and if you insist on calling it Obamacare, please stop acting surprised when some people roll their eyes. Sorry our education offends you.

Somewhere out there in the heartland is a single mother of three who has been up since 5am. She drove her kids to school, where they waited outside for an hour for the janitor she pays whatever she can to let them early. She then works her 7-3 job, picks them up (late) from school and rushes them to their neighbor's house. Their they sit, do homework, play and live a life oblivious to their mother's struggles. She is at her second job, which lets her out around 11pm. Just enough time, to come home, put the kids into their beds and collapse on the couch. Only to be awaken four five hours later to repeat the cycle. Tell her how she failed you. YOU! Tell her how she isn't allowed to voice her displeasure at our elected officials, because she didn't give up the $8.25 or more to drive 20 miles to the nearest polling place, hoping there isn't a line. Tell her, how voting was more important than the hours pay she worked so hard for, just to be able to buy a box of cereal, milk and maybe a piece of fruit for their "snack."

You voted and you should whenever possible. A few years ago, there was an election between a drug addict who had twice misused funds to buy drugs and prostitutes and a killer who was found not guilty on a technicality. Election day came and people voted. Do you think one of these people pointed a finger at someone who chose to abstain? Do you think they boasted about their choice? So why should you boast about your vote for a man who many think is a racist? Why should anyone be proud of their pulling of the lever or dropping that paper in to a slot for the man who passed laws to contaminate the water supply. Why should a sticker adorn your lapel claiming victory, because you chose the man who would have been convicted of fraud had he not been in a position of power (and white).

Before you judge someone, remember that civil obedience has been the greatest downfall of our culture. It was the cause of the slaughter of the Native Americans, the rise of Nazi Germany, Fascist Italy, Communist Russia and China and the demise of much of Africa and the Middle East. Our personal obedience is accepting the format, never voting outside the box and even more so, never demanding there be change.

In voting today, we did one of two things. Either we voted for the party that would propel us into two more years of stagnation, maybe even worse or we voted for the party that guaranteed our decline, which history has showed us, yet we refuse to learn from. There were of course those few who threw their support to useless candidates whose numbers do nothing, but show us that it's still a country where a few hipster fucks can vote for someone whose main concern is the use of biodegradable supermarket bags and pushing hemp sandals. The reality is that the silent minority is now the silent majority and if they ever take our forefather's words and constitution as it was meant, there will be a rising of these voices and there will be much chaos and anarchy, but even more blood and when the dust settles, there will be change. I'm just sorry, I don't think I'll ever make it to see that day and if it doesn't happen in the next one hundred years, neither will your great grandchildren.

Monday, November 3, 2014

Free Writing - Take 61

So many thoughts, but the problem with the world today, is that we're all connected. I want to praise one for their courage, but feel badly for the one whose actions I take for granted, merely because they praise themselves so. I want to call out those I care about for not being there and those who have for not doing it right. I know how that sounds, but when you do for others so often, you feel your way is the path. It all sounds so silly. I worry greatly about my mind. Awakened in the middle of a dream, her blouse was being unbuttoned and then I awoke to the sound of branches outside. Sleep came back, but the dreams were of rioters, with torches blazing, while I sat in a tower like some sort of Frankenstein monster. Copyright laws that I've broken, due to a silly thing posted. I don't know the rules and in so many cases, I act like all Americans and just plead ignorance. The decade I've spent, which I want to attack, even if just for therapy. The simple changes I've had to make recently, tear away at who I am. Conversing about sports, politics and religion over round after round of beers and shots. I sip a pinot noir and use toothpicks to pick olives and I realize why those above me in stature don't care about those below. Tonight, my dinner was bread, egg and mayo. Months ago, I'd calculate and enjoy my $1.03 dinner and smile. Put in a movie, my eleventh of the billing month and watch my $1.18 cent movie and smile. The dial on the wall says 55, but is supposed to go on when the temperature goes below, right? The coffee cools before my first sip and by the third it as if iced. I drink slowly. Does even that have to change? I peal the layers and get into bed. Layers? The most clothing I've worn in the last ten years was shorts and a thermal. The sweats, the undershirt, the socks. Socks! I didn't even own a pair when I arrived. The morning have become early afternoons and the afternoons have become when I sleep. The night is when I rise and go about my business, like others in the daylight hours. I secretly relish in this falling back of time as the days shorten, I sink my teeth into them, like some carnivorous creature, fearing the light and longing for love. I mock those who claim life is short, yet complain constantly about their days. This hour added, reminds me of March and the hour lost, spent with someone I truly love, no contact, just laughs and loyalty. That has become my love and my life and to those who don't understand, it's an eternity.

Sunday, November 2, 2014

Macabre Photo Challenge 2014 - Mostly Written

Anyone who follows me on social media has noticed that for the month of October, I have participated in the Macabre Photo Challenge. The only twist was that I did last year's list, because I enjoyed it more. So here is my 2014 version, some photos will be omitted

Favorite Movie Killer  - Leatherface, Texas Chainsaw Massacre


Sentimental VHS Rental - Maniac
Creepiest Doll/Puppet - Leech Lady

Best Or Worst Remake - Let Me In
Funniest Horror Comedy - Tucker & Dale VS Evil
Favorite Black & White Movie - Nosferatu

Best Kill With An Object - Basketball, Deadly Friend
Freakiest Circus/Sideshow - Freaks
Favorite Ghost - Sisters, Rigor Mortis
Best Dracula - Bela Lugosi
Coolest Transformation - American Werewolf In London
Best Zombie Franchise - Romero's Dead Series
Favorite Friday 13th Moment - Sleeping Bag Meets Tree
Favorite Freddy Moment - Johnny Depp Eats It
Biggest Crush - The Twisted Twins
Guilty Pleasure Movie - Deep Blue Sea
Ugliest Alien - The Thing
Best Popular Song In A Movie - Not Pretty Enough by Kasey Chambers - The Loved Ones
Favorite Halloween Special - It's The Great Pumpkin Charlie Brown
Most Badass Final Girl - Sharni Vinson, You're Next
Favorite Director - Pascal Laugier
Your Horror Collection - Don't Have One
Most Awesome One Liner - Alexandra Daddario, Texas Chainsaw 3D
Favorite Cursed Object - The Box, Hellraiser
Do The Thriller Dance - Trust Me
Favorite Killer Robot - Chopping Mall
Scariest Monster - The Entity
Spookiest Haunted House - The Grudge
Sickest Torture Porn - Martyrs
Cutest Demon/Possession - See below
Best Halloween Party Scene - Linnea Quigley, Night of the Demons






Saturday, November 1, 2014

Free Writing - Take 60

Another Belle comes;
door eases forward,
gathered hunters invited.
Jumping,
kindly lunging momentarily.
Notice of parents;
quick results.
Smiling thanks
under veiled words.
Xenophobic youths?
Zero.