Month: February 2012

“All my life I’ve been a lonely boy.”
Somber this, somber that.
A man’s showering technique says much about his character.
There’s a certain level of skeeve here, but what is acting, what is by design, what is the reality of the setting and characters?
Dialogue is out of an episode of Seinfeld.
Ben Gazzara? I mean, Jackie Treehorn?
You always blame the kicker.
I had me some Goon hair until all that rustling got to me.
“Don’t do bad things. Just don’t do any bad things.”
What is this? Post-industrial fantasy? Super reality?
Made sure the bed was straightened after he sat on it.
Okay, yes—Christina Ricci’s tits.
Life is an improv. Didn’t they teach you the rules of improv? You go with it. You move forward. Don’t trip anybody up.
To fall for a pouter is obvious.
They dance for you and lose interest when you pay attention.
D’you ever get caught up in a stranger’s ways, goin along on some sorta immeasurable tangent where you were just tryna get through your shit for another day, and later, when you’re back to your shit, you don’t know who you’d be if you hadn’t.
Reminded of that motel room in Chicago. The blinking red.
The red room from my visions.
What is the significance of the red shoes / What is the significance of the black hat.
Confront the 2nd person.
A nice girl to bring hot chocolate to is all.
No one can expect the happy ending. We simply hope.
KT: There is a level of realistic portrayal that helps a work achieve its tone without the sense of overproduction. The midwest and the east are familiar but distinctly strange. If it seems too outlandish it’s all the more believable/real.

“All my life I’ve been a lonely boy.”
Somber this, somber that.
A man’s showering technique says much about his character.
There’s a certain level of skeeve here, but what is acting, what is by design, what is the reality of the setting and characters?
Dialogue is out of an episode of Seinfeld.
Ben Gazzara? I mean, Jackie Treehorn?
You always blame the kicker.
I had me some Goon hair until all that rustling got to me.
“Don’t do bad things. Just don’t do any bad things.”
What is this? Post-industrial fantasy? Super reality?
Made sure the bed was straightened after he sat on it.
Okay, yes—Christina Ricci’s tits.
Life is an improv. Didn’t they teach you the rules of improv? You go with it. You move forward. Don’t trip anybody up.
To fall for a pouter is obvious.
They dance for you and lose interest when you pay attention.
D’you ever get caught up in a stranger’s ways, goin along on some sorta immeasurable tangent where you were just tryna get through your shit for another day, and later, when you’re back to your shit, you don’t know who you’d be if you hadn’t.
Reminded of that motel room in Chicago. The blinking red.
The red room from my visions.
What is the significance of the red shoes / What is the significance of the black hat.
Confront the 2nd person.
A nice girl to bring hot chocolate to is all.
No one can expect the happy ending. We simply hope.
KT: There is a level of realistic portrayal that helps a work achieve its tone without the sense of overproduction. The midwest and the east are familiar but distinctly strange. If it seems too outlandish it’s all the more believable/real.

Survive.
“I just missed your heart.” Always the heart. Guaranteed it will repeat.
Flip the switch; be a woman.
Laika’s story always ends the same way.
The military-industrial complex is strong with this one.
How can anyone trust a uniformed white man who smiles? Investigate innate racial bias.
The desert. Open. Wild.
The killings in the fields far from your home.
Cate Blanchett is in all of the films.
Unto the world of men. Life, voices, music, kettles, Arabic, guns, bombs, beds.
Snarky Brits.
And insufferable family road trips are not missed by this man.
Esas Españolas se ven que son de sangre furiosa.
“We need paper or computers so we don’t have to ask people their name or look them in the face.”
Abandoned Cold War playgrounds.
As comes maturity, so comes death.
Satisfaction—it ends with the heart.
KT: Story is essential to action, but action is not beholden to story. Sexualization is not always characterization. The confidence of knowing takes one far. There is always a quest to create the master race.

Survive.
“I just missed your heart.” Always the heart. Guaranteed it will repeat.
Flip the switch; be a woman.
Laika’s story always ends the same way.
The military-industrial complex is strong with this one.
How can anyone trust a uniformed white man who smiles? Investigate innate racial bias.
The desert. Open. Wild.
The killings in the fields far from your home.
Cate Blanchett is in all of the films.
Unto the world of men. Life, voices, music, kettles, Arabic, guns, bombs, beds.
Snarky Brits.
And insufferable family road trips are not missed by this man.
Esas Españolas se ven que son de sangre furiosa.
“We need paper or computers so we don’t have to ask people their name or look them in the face.”
Abandoned Cold War playgrounds.
As comes maturity, so comes death.
Satisfaction—it ends with the heart.
KT: Story is essential to action, but action is not beholden to story. Sexualization is not always characterization. The confidence of knowing takes one far. There is always a quest to create the master race.

Pondering you

Pondering you, I think only of what I’m certain was the most wonderful cunt. The kind I will have spent hours enjoying to my mouth’s—and cock’s—delight. Would be nice to think of you with a soft and inviting bush, however. I can’t shake the thought of a clean shaven body and all the misguided effort it speaks of. Actions speak louder, do they not?

This is all the impetus behind every moment I spend with this girl whose cunt is sweet but wholly familiar after these many hours between her thighs. She doesn’t know how to talk dirty either. Lots of “baby” and “oh God, oh God.” Sure I’m making fun. Hey—D, if you read this, well, go to sleep, but remember that line I whispered? We’re beginning to taste like ash in each other’s mouths. It’s been on the tip of my tongue. No matter, of course. You swallow like I’m going to leave if you don’t. It’s a wonder I found you at all. Are you listening?

All this thought and nothing constructive learned other than ways to get you/you off. There is no lesson to speak of, except perhaps to appreciate one’s physical senses for more than the ability to see and type. Redundantly: For now life is defined by the desire for sex and the fact that women—certain women—are as available to me as rain drops from the sky.

Pondering you

Pondering you, I think only of what I’m certain was the most wonderful cunt. The kind I will have spent hours enjoying to my mouth’s—and cock’s—delight. Would be nice to think of you with a soft and inviting bush, however. I can’t shake the thought of a clean shaven body and all the misguided effort it speaks of. Actions speak louder, do they not?

This is all the impetus behind every moment I spend with this girl whose cunt is sweet but wholly familiar after these many hours between her thighs. She doesn’t know how to talk dirty either. Lots of “baby” and “oh God, oh God.” Sure I’m making fun. Hey—D, if you read this, well, go to sleep, but remember that line I whispered? We’re beginning to taste like ash in each other’s mouths. It’s been on the tip of my tongue. No matter, of course. You swallow like I’m going to leave if you don’t. It’s a wonder I found you at all. Are you listening?

All this thought and nothing constructive learned other than ways to get you/you off. There is no lesson to speak of, except perhaps to appreciate one’s physical senses for more than the ability to see and type. Redundantly: For now life is defined by the desire for sex and the fact that women—certain women—are as available to me as rain drops from the sky.

That fucking theme song. It makes me wanna fight somebody.
Sagat was the tallest, meanest, most eye-patched motherfucker around.
We played this on the back porch that one summer before girls were a big deal.
Are there no warriors in Africa?
The soundtrack is once again awesomely 80s.
Instant flashbacks to that ghetto arcade in Huntington Park that used to be the basement of a department store when white people still lived around there.
The trick is to stop thinking about what you’re doing. It becomes about instinct and reflex. The unconscious mind does can work wonders.
Chicks with scars and skimpy leotards are hot.
Sagat’s story is still the best: seek to improve one’s mind and body. Leave petty hatreds behind.
KT: You can vicariously experience the skill and reflexes of the best fighters from around the world. Each individual has his or her own strengths and weaknesses. Strive to be impossibly muscled. Africa doesn’t count.

That fucking theme song. It makes me wanna fight somebody.
Sagat was the tallest, meanest, most eye-patched motherfucker around.
We played this on the back porch that one summer before girls were a big deal.
Are there no warriors in Africa?
The soundtrack is once again awesomely 80s.
Instant flashbacks to that ghetto arcade in Huntington Park that used to be the basement of a department store when white people still lived around there.
The trick is to stop thinking about what you’re doing. It becomes about instinct and reflex. The unconscious mind does can work wonders.
Chicks with scars and skimpy leotards are hot.
Sagat’s story is still the best: seek to improve one’s mind and body. Leave petty hatreds behind.
KT: You can vicariously experience the skill and reflexes of the best fighters from around the world. Each individual has his or her own strengths and weaknesses. Strive to be impossibly muscled. Africa doesn’t count.

Pizza used to solve all my problems, too.
Why is a foot clan waving that psionic dildo at me?
It was agreed that I was the smartest and therefore always Donatello.
Kids really had to choose wisely when it came to spending their quarters. I mean, play shit vs. replay the best? Easy choice.
I’m dying more times than I remember. Do I suck this bad?
Playing with Dani: “Those aren’t spikes, they’re sais,” “They wore different colored bandanas because… they’re the world’s most fearsome fighting team,” “No, Master Splinter was human, but he got turned into a rat, and the turtles were just turtles who were anthropomorphized by sewer ooze,” etc.
The soundtrack kills.
KT: You are in the TMNT television show. You have the freedom to choose one of four protagonists. Give up all your quarters to complete this game while your mother finishes her shopping. Tell her you want all the toys now.

Pizza used to solve all my problems, too.
Why is a foot clan waving that psionic dildo at me?
It was agreed that I was the smartest and therefore always Donatello.
Kids really had to choose wisely when it came to spending their quarters. I mean, play shit vs. replay the best? Easy choice.
I’m dying more times than I remember. Do I suck this bad?
Playing with Dani: “Those aren’t spikes, they’re sais,” “They wore different colored bandanas because… they’re the world’s most fearsome fighting team,” “No, Master Splinter was human, but he got turned into a rat, and the turtles were just turtles who were anthropomorphized by sewer ooze,” etc.
The soundtrack kills.
KT: You are in the TMNT television show. You have the freedom to choose one of four protagonists. Give up all your quarters to complete this game while your mother finishes her shopping. Tell her you want all the toys now.