Review on The Human Centipede:
“I gave this one three stars just because its effed up enough to where u gotta see it at least once. I dont love it i dont hate it, i just think it’s effed up, and in this day and age when we are all so desensitized its rare to see something and say, “Wow thats effed up man!” One things for sure, u dont ever wanna be the middle piece.”
… Hilarious!
I agree, BBoy Mugen. I agree.
{Photo: Ansel Adams}
I am usually drawn to photos in which there’s something, someplace, or someone I wish to experience myself one day…
I have dreams about being in the desert… taking peyote… and watching the world change right before my eyes with every sunset and sunrise.
I have visions of the light, racing across the land like the shadow of a tsunami, engulfing the Earth with inescapable hothotheat. My blood boils with the thought of it.
What would it be like, to watch as Helios pulls back the blanket of day, exposing a night that drapes from every corner of the sky, dripping with a thousand stars…? So many stars that it feels as if you could reach out and grab a handful to send home to your Motha… look what I got.
And the only sounds I imagine you hear are those of your heart and breath; the cringe of the ground as you break its thirsty back with every heavy-footed step; the sifting of sand reminding you of time; an old world creature scurrying about; or a vulture in the sky… looking to get some.
So here, with the veins of the dry Earth, changing with the wind, in a land that’s so far removed from what I call home… I dream.
Not like Dante
discovering a commedia
upon the slopes of heaven
I would paint a different kind
of Paradiso
in which the people would be naked
as they always are
in scenes like that
because it is supposed to be
a painting of their souls
but there would be no anxious angels telling them
how heaven is
the perfect picture of
a monarchy
and there would be no fires burning
in the hellish holes below
in which I might have stepped
nor altars in the sky except
fountains of imagination
- Lawrence Ferlinghetti, A Coney Island of the Mind
I love to revisit this book.
Obsessed, then bored.
Obsessed, then bored.
It’s an odd way to be,
slightly enthralled by specific things or peoples
and then completely forget about it,
or them.
The story of my life.
Terrible.
At any point during this movie if you took a picture it would be beautiful.
Except for the Ken doll part, that’s just creepy.
{Let the Right One In; American version: Let Me In}
At some point today I think I was having a nervous break down.
I’m not sure though.
My throat felt like it was slowly swelling shut and my tongue was growing by the minute.
I thought, this is what it must feel like to be allergic to something.
Or discover that you’re allergic to something.
And then I started to get angry.
Great, perfect timing, late night subway ride, alone.
Embarrassing.
“Hey guy, next to me, I think I can’t breathe.”
It’s one thing to lose consciousness and have people take care of you.
It’s quite another to be aware of the situation and talk the guy next to you through it, as you try not to freak out yourself.
I started shuffling through all the possible scenarios that might have brought me to this moment of….what? A nervous break down? An allergic reaction? Biochemical warfare?
Did I eat anything unusual?
Is it in the air? Is everyone else experiencing the same thing too, and just keeping their cool?
I imagined that all of a sudden we’d all start to sufficate and grab our throats and look at each other, like you bastard, are you doing this to me?
Or, the vision of me sitting on a hospital bed listening to a doctor tell me that I was having “what’s called a nervous break down” and asking “what could possibly be going on in your life to bring this on?”
Meandering thoughts took me in and out of all these possible scenarios, until I landed on the idea that this might be God, reminding me that I have a lot to think about.
And a lot to learn.
So, there, I sat, and told myself to breathe.
I spent the night not thinking about that,
until now.
