Tag Archives: movies

Caring Tan

13 Jun

Caring Tan

 

The sun clung to her skin

like a marching band in soft slippers

 

and when she walked by

the whole world turned into headphones

because she was playing my favorite song

 

it was a marching band version

so it had that tone, and too many trumpets

staring into their cell phones as

the trombones utterly butchered the verses

 

Shit! It’s still a great song though,

no matter how you play it

I counted all the big drums

 

until she was gone

This New Internet Troll Who Keeps Threatening To Kill Me Is Kind Of A Prick

1 Jun

This New Internet Troll Who Keeps Threatening To Kill Me Is Kind Of A Prick

 

I suppose I should be flattered, maybe

or disappointed in humanity

or equally outraged

or sitting in a quiet bar somewhere listening to Steve Perry

and re-reading Dune

but I’ve got my very own literary Internet Troll stalker now

He’s read a bunch of my books

and in his initial internet introduction there was the implication

that he liked them, that they’d made a connection

and he even apologized for intruding but he was wondering if I could share

a little insight into a few of the broken hearted ones

that I’ve put out there over the years

and his tone was gentle, almost tender

like how I imagine a self-involved prick would speak to a stern cop

writing him a ticket for making love to an Arbys roast beef sandwich in public

or the way John Hinkley Jr. tried to come across

when he was writing Jodie Foster about how great it must be,

just being Jodie Foster

and even more so when it rains

but I’m not Jodie Foster

ass hole (learn how to separate words you stunted prick)

so when he started ranting like a fist full of stolen lunch money

bunkered down in the 39 year old sweaty pocket

of a spoiled 8 year old

about a particular person who I will always care for

and wish only the best things that are still possible to obtain

in this bullshit Trump inspired hate filled version of new America

I skipped straight to the end

because I’ve got better things to do

(finish reading this importantly great book about tyranny,

and I’ve got a novel to finish, and also on the TV right now

they’re playing back to back episodes of The Incredible Hulk)

then trudge through an unsolicited manifesto like that

and I replied like they replied in the 1930’s

honestly, respectfully, while snorting something they used to call Rum

I replied with a simple response, super-simply

 

“Fuck off, Carl.”

 

while also maybe thinking, whoever said it was always nice meeting a fan

had a warped definition of ‘nice’ while also part-way figuring

that was that

which it wasn’t, my brand new stalker who’s favorite hobbies

seem to be tough guy talking on the internet, sloppily referencing

long sections from the Mad Max movies, and reiterating the cliché-fact

that he’s secret named himself after a 1970’s Charlie Bronson vigilante

who’s superpower is squinting like he hasn’t taken a bowl movement

since the 1960’s and shooting stunt guys in the head

 

(Ha! not so long story (it’s only been a week now maybe) short

Mister Smoochbritches has spent his recent days doing that thing that he does,

sticking his dick in and out of an old Easy Bake Oven while screaming “Oh Bethany!”

and threatening to kill me

 

Well, Sir!

(if that is your dick’s real name)

I am no stunt double

There is only one of me

And you’re gonna have a hard time sneaking up on me

while I’m at work at Chuck E. Cheese

when I don’t actually work at Chuck E. Cheese!

That’s just false info I’ve floated out into internetspace

because 1. I love Chuck E. Cheese

and also 2. I thought it was funny

and now that that’s where you’ve promised I’ll meet my own doom

  1. Because now it makes you funny

 

Funny little man

with his multi-paragraph stutter

(Historical note: You don’t need to send every draft version threat

about how you’re going to kill me. Just send the one you like best.)

 

 

 

 

 

Everything Is Fucking Something

5 May

 

Everything is fucking something

 

Where’d you learn to fight?

From watching Good Will Hunting?

It shows

Notes on Skull Island aka What if Kong Had Survived The Fall

15 Mar

 

Notes on Skull Island aka What if Kong Had Survived The Fall

 

(the world is one big spoiler alert, so naturally spoilers (Kong: Skull Island) exist here too.)

 

Remaking the original 1933 King Kong is a pointless act, like repainting Van Gogh’s wheat fields or fucking a ukulele with a tuba on a deadpan Wagner-tuned rainy night shaped bassoon. It’s sad madness but that hasn’t stopped humanity from doing it anyway. Dino De Laurentis fucked it up in the 70’s with his goofy monkey suit version and Peter Jackson gave us a big budget take in the early 2000’s that had Jack Black attempting to fill Robert Armstrong’s movie boots and a flawed CGI Kong ice skating in the middle of New York for some goddamn reason. [Historical Note: Jackson’s heart was in the right place, loving the original as much as all of us who love the original, and I respect him for that, still it’s a tough thing to forgive, all that goddamn ice skating in a script that just never felt right.]

 

[Historical Note 2: Son of Kong was pretty great, but that’s because they didn’t try to remake something that’s in no need of remaking. They made a sequel. Sure it doesn’t have the Kong-equals-unrequited-love-type-layers of the original and can play sort of like a jungle island version of Home Alone with Kong Jr. taking over a role originally played by Macaulay Culkin, but fuck it. Leave it alone, cynical bastards. I like the hell out of Son of Kong. (and Andy Schneidkraut digs it too.]

 

Just like I liked the hell out of Kong: Skull Island. Skull Island isn’t a remake. It’s a brand new movie that plays out like an alternate timeline sequel that goes something like this:

 

What if, in the original movie, Kong didn’t die at the end? What if he survived the fall somehow? The fall and the knowledge that the only lady he loved didn’t love him and the fact that half of the entire city of New York had seen his weiner (from both a distance and up close and unconsciously personal) because he’d been abducted against his Kong-will and wasn’t adequately packed for life in a big city/he didn’t have any pants on/I don’t have any pants on/We’ve all found ourselves inadequately packed for the city at one point or another in our lives/let’s move on.

 

Ah, but that’s the thing now, ain’t it. Kong can’t move on! And that’s what this Skull Island thing’s all about. Say Kong survived the fall. Say he managed to crawl his way out of the city un-re-captured and booked passage on a crab fishing boat of some kind working odd jobs here and there at sea until he eventually made it back to Skull Island. Say he made it home and now it’s 40 years later and he’s spent the entire time eating octopus, staring at a lake like it was Netflix, and missing the girl he’s still hung up on and will always love.

 

That’s where we find our hero in Skull Island. We find a post-lost-love Kong mangled by the effects of all those years that have followed the loss. We find a Kong alive in a world that at all times holds its stomach in like it’s trying to pick a fight. The metaphor has been shifted to the island in this one. The island is lost love. This is what the world looks like post losing your Helen. Lost love is an island full of loneliness and terror and monsters that must be fought daily.

 

And Kong fights them. Because that’s what we have to do. Oblivion is inevitable and also oblivion is not an option. And even on Skull Island, as hopeless as it is, not everything is inevitably hopeless. There’s a small group of natives that are still alive on the island, a small group of natives and John C Reilly, a small group of natives and John C Reilly who still have a shot at this. They are born and then they die but between all of that they fall in love. Even on an island that represents a post-love nightmare, there’s still love. And this new Kong can relate to that. So he protects it. He’s re-dedicated his post-Helen years to protecting the love that’s still out there. And when he’s not doing that he eats octopus and stares at lakes like he’s watching Netflix while wishing that Fay Wray’s happy out there, somewhere, wherever she is.

 

Because that’s all Kong really wanted from her. To be happy. He wanted her to be happy. That’s what this new Kong wants from everyone. That’s what this new Kong movie’s all about. Kong wants you to fall in love. Kong wants you to be happy. And he’s willing to go on fighting inside his own nightmare because of this. He’s still willing to fight for it. Because Kong knows what something like that feels like.

 

Because Kong still remembers like we all still remember.

 

Kong fights because

 

Flash forward to the past a little bit:

 

For a couple of million minutes or something like that, Kong was happy too.

Tiny Notebook Poems

13 Feb

tiny-notebook

Tiny Notebook Poems

 

I Want You To See My Underpants

 

I want you to see my underpants

But I’m not wearing underpants

So where does that leave us?

 

What are we looking at here?

My weiner or

The end of the world

 

 

Adam Duritz Letter To Santa Clause

 

Dear Santa,

 

I need a raincoat, a sunburn, and a new car. Mom says I’m too young to drive and that the sun can be dangerous, but fuck that. She has thus far voiced no objections about the raincoat. Also I kinda want a puppy. I’ll name her Baltimore. Is that asking for too much? If you’ve just nodded your head yes then I don’t know, forget about the sunburn. I realize now I was being unrealistic with that. Sorry, I’ve been day drinking. Let’s just stick with the raincoat and the new car and the puppy. Thanks man.

 

Sincerely,

Yr pal Adam

 

 

Saving Private Ryan 2

 

A post World War 2 Matt Damon

Falls asleep on the bus to the Denver Art Museum

And somehow wakes up in Cleveland

 

His family becomes worried when he doesn’t come home

For dinner that night because they had all planned to send

One of his twenty fucking grandkids to pick up a bag of

 

Taco Bell Doubledillas

Matt Damon’s favorite

So they call the police and report him missing

 

12 people die horrible deaths before they eventually find him

Standing in the TV department at Sears mumbling shit like

“When did Sylvester Stallone start doing tampon commercials?”

 

As World War 3 falls from the sky

Like cats dying

The end

 

 

Your Love Is A Boomerang

 

Your love is a boomerang

And I don’t know how

To throw a boomerang

 

I’m lousy at it

 

I have failed

many times

again and again

Unmellow Yellow

8 Aug

chewie

Unmellow Yellow

 

Han Solo had a 10 Parsec

 

long dong

vertically hairy

and Black Vest-idly

strong

 

He named it Chewbacca

and the Chewbacca you remember

from childhood is a figment

of Han Solo’s overly exaggerated mind

 

 

so, as a separate entity, the thick Wookie

that sat beside him co-piloting

the Millenium Falcon

doesn’t actually exist

(not in the way in which we perceive it)

 

 

Chewbacca is in reality a simple manifestation

of Han Solo’s grand thoughts about his own penis

a grand thought

so strong that it became

a shared vision

 

 

we all went along with it

 

It’s like Jimmy Stewart in Harvey

only Jimmy saw the rabbit

 

it’s like that, except on a much larger scale

because Han Solo wasn’t alone

we all saw Chewbacca!

even though he wasn’t there

or, in a sense, he was there

 

but not in the way our culturally connected minds perceived him to be there

 

he was there, in the literal sense, tucked inside

Han Solo’s pants

 

even though we perceived Chewie, as Han Solo did

as an eight foot tall best pal who’s posture slightly

stiffened every time Princess Lea entered and room

and haimishly gargled at all of Han’s jokes

 

we all saw it, ergo:

we’re all

in every sense

and in all actuality

totally nuts

 

and speaking of nuts

what kind of man nicknames his dick

Chewie?

 

The Unmellow Universe

is not only a coward

and hesitantly expanding

 

it’s judging us, about shit like this

unjustly

and thinking things like

if it had it to do all over again

 

it would’ve liked to have gotten a degree in Psychology

or something like that

 

instead of becoming what it is

an enormously nervous Tea Cup

that contains Everything

 

including Cocky Bastards

with Talking Teddy Bear dick

fantasies

 

so powerful

that everyone he comes

into celluloid contact with

 

as if dazzled by the variant amount

of loneliness and special effects

 

winds up believing

in the fantasy

too

I Live Down The Street From A Church The Size Of The Death Star

29 Jun

game-of-thrones-biggest-battle-01

 

I Live Down The Street From A Church The Size Of The Death Star

 

I live down the street from a church

the size of the Death Star

and on Sundays if the traffic

happened to find itself sucked sky-wise

this traffic

would blot out

the sun

 

and yesterday morning it was Sunday again

(because the church doesn’t have to pay taxes

so it can afford an ark full of lobbyist to ensure

it’s always Sunday again somewhere) and after not leaving

the house for around 56 hours I figured

I should probably

leave the house

 

the cats needed cat food

and I’d run out of fake meat and lettuce

and felt like getting a burrito

that I wouldn’t have

to make

myself

 

so I got in the car

(Helen, you see how easy that is?)

I got in the car

and the car needed gas

and why the hell did it have to be

so goddamn bright outside?

(I blamed the modern state of democracy

and the price of Ray Bans and all the White Walkers

who’ve fallen

for Trump)

 

so there I was

in the car without Helen and

the car was operating on E

because I’d forgotten I’d needed gas

the last time I drove it

 

so I turned right into the first station that popped

out of the horizon which happened to be located

smacked feet first in the middle

of the main parking lot of

the Flatirons Church

 

or the gas station was there first I suppose, and over time

the church had just consumed the mass of land surrounding it

like a blizzard consumes safe driving conditions

or how you can’t believe it’s not butter?

Well, that makes two of us

 

I checked the clock before exiting the car and committing

and I’d figured it was safe because I was consciously traveling

during the quiet period between sermons

 

when the streets were quiet between slaughters

I was traveling between the 9

and 11 a.m. shows

 

I should’ve had a good 20 minutes

before the 9 o’clock hounds were let go

and the 11 a.m. hordes choked the streets

dead with their sheer mass and their travel

 

I wasn’t being reckless, Helen

I wasn’t being like you or I used to be

I’d fucking planned this whole cat food/burrito journey out, damn it!

almost a full half hour before reluctantly

stepping out of the

house

 

(cue guitar riff from Dokken’s Dream Warriors: now)

 

but that planning didn’t stop what happened

after I stepped out of the car

that planning didn’t stop what happened next

(“I’m standing in the night alone!/for-EV-er!/toGETH-ER!”—Don Dokken)

 

I got out of the car and looked up

because when you get out of a car, that’s generally

the next step, ain’t it? How else are you gonna know

where you’re going?

You look up

 

so I looked up and I saw an entire army of movable bodies

pouring out of every orifice that church

had ever had built in it

a good damn 20 minutes ahead of schedule!

Did the house band decide to perform the slightly shorter

Pink Floyd song this week?

I mean, literally HORDES of people

a couple thousand of em’ maybe!

and every one of them heading

towards the parking

lot

 

that lot being the only thing that was standing between us

at the time, myself and that horde, an amount of traversable space

that would be traversed in the matter of minutes

 

(“Mee-nuts, Captain! Mee, nuts”—modern day movie Scotty, r.i.p.)

 

which means I had only minutes to get out of there

I could’ve made it, if I’d just jumped in the car

(do you see that, Helen. if you can jump in the car

but you don’t jump in the car, well, there are consequences

 

King in the North! inspired consequences #direwolves #sadFace #Boremeer)

I could’ve just jumped in the car

but the car was out of gas

and the crowd was getting closer

 

another two minutes and they’d be upon me

could I realistically choose the pay at the pump option

and get enough gas in my car to not be ridiculous

and get the hell out of there

in 2 minutes or less?

 

I didn’t know

I just did it

(#Kirk,out)

I swiped the card and entered my

very specific pin code

and I declined the offer of a car wash

and no, time is important here!

I wouldn’t be needing a bloody receipt!

 

and after getting the card approved go ahead

I pulled the gas nozzle out of the gas nozzle holder thingy

like I was unsheathing a valerian sword

and then I started laughing

until I started pretending to be

super serious

 

I turned dramatically on purpose

and stood there posed with the nozzle

just like Jon Snow was standing

when he stood down Ramsey’s entire goddamn army

in last week’s Bastard vs. Bastard episode

of Game of Thrones

 

I stood there all stoic, with the camera behind me

pumping gas as bravely as possible

as the horde crashed my way exactly like things happen

on Game of Thrones style

and Don Dokken just kept

on screaming

 

Can I be honest?

I want to smack things

when people say shit like

‘Can I be honest’

 

but let’s face it

(I’m actually not all that fond of

that phrase either)

 

I was pretty sure I wasn’t going

to make it

so did I make it?

did I actually survive?

 

I don’t know, I mean

(sentence deleted)

 

we’ll all just have to tune in

next week to

find out

 

 

 

(written while listening to Dokken)