Because number three thinks you're a cunt!

#3 - Ghost World

I couldn't believe how well this movie replicated high school. It's funny, because I watched this movie before I even entered high school. It's so easy to hate the kids who were fond of high school. Why would you want to go through those miserable years yet again? Anyway, I'm getting off track.

I think this film had it all going on. There wasn't one thing really at fault here. The jokes were witty, it had that dude from the Red Hot Chili Peppers video, AND a joke about tight cracks and small holes! Not to mention that Enid was a role model for me during those horrible four years of my life which I don't want to speak of.

At the end of the film, you really form a bond with all the characters no matter how miserable, off-putting, or just plain crazy they are.

And number four goes to...

#4 - Amélie

Anyone who tells me they don't like the movie Amélie obviously loves being depressed. It's a feel good movie that men, women and children can get into. Doing random acts of kindness for the lovely people in France is something that I can definitely get into. Not to mention the vivid colors and imagery in this picture uplift you. You can't escape it!

Anyway, how can you resist the sweet beauty of Audrey Tautou? Sometimes she doesn't pick the best roles in the world to play, but her presence on the screen is so electrifying that you can forgive it.

Rigid Placidity, an opening volley of grafs

There once was a land. On and of, atop and abounding, there once was a race. This race was much like ours - ape-evolved bipedal cultivators of civilization and division and such - but for one peculiarity (from our vantage at least). This race of humans (for lack of a better) fell to sleep once still. Being perfectly still, rigid, motionless was necessary and sufficient for sleep. Consider it, lying down, back, attaining stillness. The second the body is without movement, devoid of even the slightest tension of a muscle here or a reflexive wiggle of the toe there, *snap* sleepy times.

The rub? Anytime a member of this race sits perfectly still for any reason *snap* they go, and the sleep of this peoples is shamefully deep.

Oh, the race had evolved to manage. To thrive even, the teeming masses of them. The will to lie still is strong. As well the urge to keep movie, shark-like. Never sitting still. Always tapping toes, rolling quarters along the knuckles. Snapping a finger to the beat of your own heart. This was an expressive, physically fervent people.

One day a traveler appeared. She was a stranger, an astro-anthropologist. My dear aunt Susie. She had been exploring the galaxy for over a decade and was thrilled to have finally come across an honest to god civilization, even one so unnervingly familiar.

Aunt Susie explored the hell out of their land, anthopologized the hell out of the people, just got all the hell up in it until she was one of them. They didn't have much interest in strangers until she showed up. Now she was among their cultural elites, hosting coffee breakfasts and tea brunches and wine-filled lat evening dinners for the statesmen and philosophers of this people. Within ten years she was married into them.

Their first child was ...TO Be CONTINUED....

Cinq

#5 - Kill Bill Vol. 1

This was the first Quentin Tarantino film I saw, yet I probably saw an hour of it. During that time period, I had a thing with seeing blood on the screen, so I closed my eyes for a good chunk of the time. I remember being so obsessed with this film, and went back to QT's roots -- Pulp Fiction, Reservoir Dogs, Jackie Brown, and From Dusk Till Dawn (Sorry folks, but I love that film)!

I watched Vol. 2 the day it came out. It was very dialogue based, but it didn't have the same impact as Vol. 1. I began to say "I'm going to go 'Kill Bill' on yo' ass!" shortly after watching this, and to this day I still continue to say it to people who piss me off.

A Sleep Lyrics; Crows Can Trollop

I sing songs as sung by drunk men
I carouse and I confuse,
myself

I ain't not sure I ain't not yours anymore
I ain't not sure I ain't sure
not and a more

I drink stories as drunk by strange men
cruisin' I confound.

my sloth.
Wasted my time for the last time, brain's on a third trime
ready to abort it.
Bested my time for the first time, anything less, 1.secondpointnone to the best
would be cream and all

I tranquilize while drunk men festilize
I trank and I tries.
my flies

open door clothes closet, ready up, ruddy up,
make it up, face 'rupt, ready o
knot shoes, tie tie, open door, greet sky, close door
dance floor

I'd rule everthing around me, dream
god's to wake up,
I clash, I titans
my gawd golly might

Dolemite, just because
I can found a lot of things if I've got nothing
better to do
it soon

I carousel and confuse and I myself
sleep again

Thoughts And Whatnots, Premiere Edition

I'm not ashamed to admit that I like Lady Gaga. I don't believe in Guilty Pleasures. I say without guilt that I like Lady Gaga. I like Rihanna too. I like that one song by Grizzly Bear but I hate that one song by Phoenix. I hate all songs by Animal Collective. Everything is Dance Pop. Indie Rock is dance pop. Lil' Wayne should have jumped on that bandwagon.

Luna's Tics

Sooner later stars suns, centauris and like may might manage to mangle by force of their light,

will strangle earth terrestrial with Satan's photonic might,

will derange Gaia's children with overexposure to bright,
will suffocate our atmosphere but not without a fight, la la la

Somethings, ch. 1, section A

Used to play guitar to keep my head settled straight. Unkind for a kid of what, was I 12? 11? having such a need but chemicals all wrong. Percolating incorrectly, triggering the wrong sympathetics or something to that effect, like a nervous cop. Itchy triggered. Needed to keep my head straight. All better now. All the best.

My parents were in college bands vamping out Tom Petty The Cars Blondie type riffs when they made me, or so they say. Me playing the guitar was thus important to them. Or so they say. So I still play it and it's part of me and so on. I musn't belabor the point.

It's good it's great but it don't fit on a plate.

Sometimes I focus so hard, so naturally to the point where there's no intent, no focus at all really, that I get this headache. It's my teeth. I grit them and never notice until my whole head hurts. I rock back and forth and focus my totality and play my songs and think my thoughts and I feel my head hurt. My teeth hurt. Gritting idiot.

A song doesn't need much but a hook. Any kind of hook. There's technical defined things called a hook, yeah? Think so, but I'm talking metaphorical hooks. Like that in Girls' "Lust for Life" where whiny singer tauts his voice diagonal like a sneer - "...cra-zy..." - or that greased twinge George Harrison spits into that lick in "Hold Your Hand". Latter that, that's quasi perfection so if that didn't hook me in melody could, harmony could, voices could; but the Girl's song is but awful but for a hooks. So I love it so. Want to write a hook, a hanger to hang my songs upon. And then.

Living under bridges isn't easy, but it isn't either hard or rough neither. It's day by day going past every day. Keeping fed, and keeping head set, that's a responsibility but only responsibility I've got or need. It's what I've always wanted or needed. Freedom. Nothing left to lose. Kris Kristofferson is a gnarly looking dude but he is gnarly and awesome. Categorical genius type Rhodes Scholar and such and he was mopping floors at Sun Studios just because he had nothing better to do. And he loved music. Got to meet Johnny Cash that way. I wanna be an iconoclast when I grow up.

The Hill People Are Alive With The Sound Of Music

Who has two thumbs and is awesome in bed? Your Mom!

If you give a mouse a cookie, [x], but if you teach a mouse to bake a cookie, you'll have to [y]. Please solve for y. Please solve for Y my life so lonely, Mr. Algebraic Man. If anyone knows of a good agent or a prominent publisher interested in losing a lot of money, let me know. I've got ideas. ....ten thousand mice hittin' home on their se-cond date. At this point you cannot wait to fumigate, but it's too late, mice licking clean. Wuzzy Fuzzy? A Fuzzy Wuzzy Wuzzy? Wuzzy Woozy? A Woozy Wuzzy Wuzzy? Wuzzy? Vell Wuzzy? Vell? Answer me, damn you! I'm just a ball of ball-kicking fury. In a way, if you think about, really think about it, everything you ever say or do is a goddamn, dirty lie. If you think about it. Those swirling spirals movie hypnotists use. You think any second now, any second now, you’re going to reach the black way in the back Closer and closer. Until you close your eyes, and then it's yours. And once you’ve got it, you don’t ever want to give it up. FYI, the clown is totally creepy. All clowns are. Sometimes when I look into my pants I see a clown. Sometimes, sometimes I'm creepy too. Are dogs people? That's a good question. Is it really a good question? That's a good question. Ancient Egyptians worshipped pu- I've been handed a news report memo thing. This just in, local anchorman handed paper that says This just i- New character name: Dr. Withus B. Adself, esq.

If my prose is too purple, if my steps stipstopastumble, if my throat chokes on egg yolks, if I startoamumble, then know that no I am not going mental. Know, yo, instead a thing fundamental. I'm in love again. I'm all a'rub again. I'm doing the frug again. I'm in love again. Wait, how do you pronounce frug? Another quality name for a character: Allison "Ballyhoo" Dumplins the third, of Worcester. NYer cartoon: Pig's sitting in front of doctor, waiting for his diagnosis, waiting for the waiting to end, just so he can move on with his life, if only to end it. His hooves ache, his snout drips. His eyes steadily empty when he hears the doctor say: It's your ribs. They're delicious. Poor little piggy goes no god nooo all the way to the butcher. No more markets. No more roast beef, as if he'd even enjoy it. No home. Two for the money, three for the show, I forget what eight was for, go daddy go, But don't you kiss off my blue suede shoes. Better add it u- So a man walks into a bar with his pet giraffe. Hey, you can't leave that lion there! Because the giraffe had passed out. It was drunk. Just back from the Albertsons. Someone was singing "Lost in the Supermarket." I informed her she was in aisle 5. Oh My God, none of that happened. Why did I make that up? Why would I do that? I'm, I'm sick. I'm sick. I'm sick. There isn't even an Albertsons nearby.

Ballyhoo Dumplins and the Case of the Misspelled Menaj Etwa: An Adult Adventure. Giraffes don't drink. Streets are runny like my eggs; city's mashed and seasoned like my taters. Tenements line the alleyways like the tines of my fork. Sign 'O' The Tines of My Fork. Beluga whale, buddy, yo beluga whale, call me yo beluga whale. Tell me I'm yo one and lone beluga whale, sonny, yo beluga whale, honey, yo b

Born an old man, dead at 17. Called his dad Pops and his GF his queen. Trained with a militia, owns an M-16. Runs a bakery in heaven, sells ice cream. Ranks among the best at zombie-ing for Halloween. Built a grand piano out of tusks and dental string. Surfed a volcano, owned magazines. Lived on a potato farm in old Aberdeen. Ran with the wolves for want of a dream. Broke boulders with his bare hands until the gangrene. Had sex with a thousand strangers, all at least 18. Winks at every post office man, so's they can live 4 something. Flies to Mons Olympus, keeps his shoes at full sheen. Works with autistic children, tells them his schemes. Cheats at poker, but always comes clean. If you need to know, yes, that awesome dude is me!

Space Tyger Space Tyger burning bright/ by the light of wan midnight/ if I may or if I might/ make thee dreadful Lamb symmetry. And so on. Space tigers nourish their young on cosmic octopus cooked in the cores of distant stars. Space tigers then feast on the litter. One lives. "Space tiger" refers to two distinct species: spatigris naturalet and spatigris helmetate. Natural Space Tiger can be found in the rugged terrains of low-gravity planets. It is immense, with a shaggy coat and elongated canines. Natural Space Tigers are rarely seen in empty space, preferring to roam the desolate desert landscapes of dust-ridden moons they call home. The aptly named Helmet Space Tigers (colloquially known as "Hell Beasts") are a unique case, thriving as they do in the void. Having evolved a perfect replica of a 1950s-era conception of a space helmet around their heads, these Space Tigers swim the night skies. If need be, the Natural Space Tiger will pounce app. 400 meters in chase of its prey. Its claws can disembowel a space rhino. Space lions, space tigers, space bears. Oh my. Dear. God. /space mauled

If someone gives me coffee, I'll supply the cream. That's how grateful and engorged I would be. As pink as your petals/ as purple as my prose/ as stiff as the "competition"/ as I be drilling them holes. Crumpled in the corner, crying out to all who'll listen/ isn't really drama so much as exposition. I...you...each and every one of us can legally have sex with someone who was born after Nevermind was released. Think about that, won't you? Suffering Saph[ic Erotica], exclaimed Wonder Woman [breathlessly] as above her, c[o]ckling maniacally, stood [Da]ngle Man & [C]octor Psycho...My friendly foes, please to dispose, my last remains, buried where a new me can grow. A me-tree for all my me needs. Man, I need sleep. Commencing the passing of out. Sleepy Bye Time. Good gravy is redundant. Raisins are nature's dried-up grapes. Rickety Rickety Rack/ The mouse was smoking crack/ super bottlerocket, pass it around/ Santa fell down the smoke/stack. What's the going rate on love today, honey? What the going rate on a date, these days? What's the going rate on naked fun times, slappy?

Cha! Cha! ChaChaCha-Choking on-a Cherry Wine, coughing up this blood of mine, sippin' on some syrup time, it's si-sippin' on some syrup time. What's the time?*SCRATCH* It's time to get -real-. Hi kids, I'm AdRock with MCA and Mike D and we'd like to talk to you kids about syrup. Whose House? Fun House!! Whose House? Fun House Game & Pizza Factory where you can get down your silly self! It's not that tricky! Oh No, the Gas Face! "Yo homey you stink" "But I used Quick Stick!" Narrator: You should have used Degree. Because no one wants a Gas Face. At 10:They say they came to drop bombs. Others get down - they get up. Why are these Irishmen jumping around and what does it mean for you? If space is time and time is money, then space is golden. Join a Goldenspace retirement community and count your ducats in peace.

Johnny was an appleseed/ Johnny was a soldier/ Johnny of a different breed/ Johnny born a cold year/ Johnny didn't go to school/ Johnny walk ed around it/ Come out with your hands up Johnny/ Johnny you're surrounded/ oh my da dipsy do/ oh my da dipsy day/ oh what a tragedo/ oh what a stylish comedy/ Now Johnny has a problem/ Johnny was a good man/ Johnny, Johnny, Johnny, Johnny/ Johnny Johnny catamaranned I consider myself a poet for a new age - an age unfamiliar with what most people would call poetry. It can't be bad if there is no good! Oh dear God, why am I even allowed to have a blog? Shouldn't there be someone in internetlandia who can look at what I'm doing and say NO? He-ey scorched lookin', Wha-at u got cookin'?, Hope u got meth cookin' up for me/ Lo-ove free-basin', a-and peyote tastin', a hesher re-cipe. My name is Luca/ I sleep by the corner store/ I live upwind from you/ Yes I think I've asked you for a quarter before/ before/ before... Venture deeper into the dead city of Dis/ Satan's legions follow a wet fragrance of fear/ Lesion covered bodies taste you vacate your waste/ Shrieking Blawdy Murder you sweat vomit and tears/ What if every dog was the reincarnation of someone who had a crush on you who traveled back in time to chill with you, as a pet? Wouldn't that be weird? Bollweevil up your ass. Ha! You looked.

Gonna be one of those days. Better put on my pants. The rain in Spain falls mainly on the- plain/ly all of everything comprises a totality/ confining our reality/ within the scope of sanity/ betwixt the bounds of fiction/ and of fancy which border our banality/ the order by which we relegate our dearest delirium to mere vanity/ a duality that claims the best in life to be infantile inanity/ what supremely sorry diction to submerge our own humanity/ what careless confused conviction that wreaks in us beastly banality/ this morose mundanity/ this fear of the feckless falsity that inspires in us a greater story, one of glory, of the grand and epic, of the wondrous and the thunderous rain in Spain falls mainly on the plain. That was particularly sucky. Should never have put my pants on.

In the time of Chimpanzees I was a(fraid, really. They're vicious bastards, torturing baby monkeys and whatnot. Time of Bonobos..?) Monkey. I once saw a cat that looked like a flower plucked from an endless marigold valley of an as yet undiscovered ghost planet. Nothing I've ever said has ever been true in the traditional sense. I accept that in myself and learn to grow from it. Watching an ep. of Under The Umbrella Tree on the youtubes. Best use of my time? I think that goes without saying. It's a bit affecting, watching a kid's show I loved when I was super little and recognizing everything I'd long forgotten. Picnic Time? My music box friends are having a party. You too slurms. Bug Juice! C'mon Quag, bring the peanut butter jar. I did it!

I put my hand upon your hips and/ I crip walk crip walk crip/ U put your hand upon my hips and/ U blood walk blood walk blood- Three will get you five/ sweet family will die/ Oh dollop o' sour cream/ very well with your chives/ Dull hell of butter knives/ Inhale pesticides/ something something something/ curtail of all your lives/ hail....curtain, um, survive...huh. Can you blame me preening?/ Feeling me? I'm flossin'./ 'Bout this sheen so blingin'/ See me up in Boston/ Hope you got yo shades on/ Yo vision I be 'ccostin'/ I'm the dapper don and/ You's the woodsman's rusted tin, son. BREAK! Wake up and smell the potatoes is what I say. Stately, plump Zapp Brannigan came from the space-head...and so on. I will not be writing this story as I am sure it can write itself. another good character name: Beatmaster Billy B. Finglongero. The B stands for quality. The world is a vampire de-fanged

They say the rain in Spain fell/ plain as the day we'll/ shoot on down to Cali and join up in a rally/ and marry 'til we're bored/ and find another door/ through which we'll travel time/ one second at a time/ and lose our lives in Paradise/ and cold dead hand grips a pair. Superman invents a perpetual motion device. Just as bait for Luthor. This comic was written in 1985. I'm afraid that's awesome. If an alien asked me about this thing we call televised comedy I would sit her/him/it in front of the first episode of The Young Ones. Live every moment like it was your last. If you do so, there's a better chance it'll be. Then you'll be glad you did. I'm chock full of thoughts. I find the adjective "plump" extremely erotic. When you cook 'em. Trained on gravy boats floating on cranberry/ sauce. Swimming far as I could see to sneak surreptitious peeks at the /source. Finding far too late everything I've ever known is / false. Face front, false gods, flee your throne, hide your/ balls. Bucolic is a word that doesn't mean what it should and that means what it couldn't possibly.

Michael J Rockaholic/ takes the whip 'cuz he's erotic/ spits his prick on spots bucolic/ slits the wrists of Semisonic/ helps the kids get hooked on phonics/ speaks in tongues in times demonic/ isn't that old, doesn't want a colonic. Can u guess the name of the game? The name of the game is can u guess the name of the game? The name of the game is can u guess the sizo'my- A spot of tea? That hit the spot, hmm? Spotted Dick? And 7-UP's Spot? Spot the pineapple? Inter-resting, very interesting indeed. Screw 'em. Graphical novelical/ semper fifo fanatical/ steal a token sabbatical/ vernacular-veratical/ tempero a heratical/ mad-on for Rom Vanatical... You know what really chafes my anus? You know what truly drives me mad? For the love of God, tell me! OK so in this NYer toon there's the canary in the cavern and the canary is dead. But not of inhalation. A knotted noose. "Everybody double your anti-depressants." The canary's function as an auger of the dangers ahead has been expanded to include existential nausea. What this says about how the dangers particular to active man have evolved in our post-industrial post-modern late-capitalist society is too jejune to offer profit worth the cost of analysis. No, we must dig deeper. Consider the illegible suicide note. Doesn't this mean, or rather couldn't this be read to mean, that we can communicate no more in death than we could tweet in life? That understanding never...

Red is white/ The sky is blue/ Don't kick me please I'm/ in love with you. Balky, good buddy, old pal/ my perfect stereotypical stranger/ Together we shall dance solely of joy/ Fear not, we court nothing but danger. Oh Urkel, who art but an artless, pernicious personification of all that is awful. I insist you desist from this cruise towards a bruise. I suggest you resist the urge to play the pest. Please leave to friend Carl his overdue snooze. His long and awaited long overdue snooze. Red is the wine/ that makes me blue/ Your breath is sweet/ and so. are. you. Awwww. Your handts are cold/ Your breaths are nice/ Fe're growing old/ let's thkrew like mice. I guess I must admit that what they say to us is true - The best part of me being me is me being in you. My old Cadillac don't leave room half-a-way near enough in the back for the two of us to have a whack, to light a wick, to run the track, to...The man could launch a snot-rocket clear across the room like he was Johnny Rotten on MTV. That and doing math in his head, his only skills. I think sleep is one of those bits of one's youth you just have to shed as you grow older. No one really needs sleep; it's a bad habit. Sleep is something you must shed as you grow older/ Mind if I *cue wah-wah* shred while you think it over?/ nieu wah neee, deedo ninininiini A novel written from the perspective of a dog would be incoherent. Would I be a genius to write it in spite of this or because of this?

I sing the booty electric. Because I could not stop for booty. Booty be not proud. I saw the best minds of my generation destroyed by booty. She walks in, booty like the night of cloudless climes & starry skies; & all that's best in dark and bright meet in her ass (...) & her eyes. Between the idea/And the booty/Between the motion/And the act/Falls the Shadow...This is the way the world ends/ not with a bang but a booty.

#6 movie of the decade

#6 - Irréversible

The plot is simple and complex. It's a movie about revenge. Like Memento, the film goes backwards. However, it makes more of an impact when the film goes backwards. The first 20 minutes of the film are nauseating, and purposely made that way to imitate vertigo. But the hardest part of the film to watch is the rape scene. The camera is static for eight minutes while Monica Bellucci's character, Alex, is brutally raped.

The acting isn't Oscar worthy, but the way this film was shot is so haunting. The film makes you think, and keeps you thinking long after the film is over with. I think part of this film was made for shock value, but it was also used to make the viewers develop their own opinions. Mainly, it was made to MAKE you think.