I'm Not One To Plunder Unless Truly Moved...

Foran put this up. I'm stealing. We've all known this one to be coming for a long, long time. Gilliam seems to me pretty hit or miss and after Heath Ledger died, and I heard stories of Jude Law, Johnny Depp and Colin Farrell taking his place as the same actor in the same movie, I was hopefully optimistic. But come on. I immediately all but chalked it up as a fine farewell to a fine actor and began to prematurely appreciate the film for what it was - a miracle if they put something...anything together. Then I saw this...

And at some point, my easy sensibilities turned to hope...turned to something else entirely - left me wondering if this could possibly be something great, some form of terrible fortune masterpiece. Because the trailer cuts with an energy that says something close to exactly that. But it can't be, right? It has to be a bloody mess. Nothing can endure what this had to endure and make it out alive, right? I'm not so sure.

How Many M's Are There in Hmmm...

I just finished making this playlist called "drive." It's a couple hours long and I have others and if needed, together they'll suffice. See, tonight, Mulholland just isn't going to be enough. I need something else, something a little more filling. Gas is cheap and I'm not really worried that my tomorrow starts at 6am. Sometimes, I just need...something. And I can't always put a finger to what that something is...so I just take off, let the world and the air and the music and my thinking sort through one another until the last of the bunch finally backs off or stands down.

I think the problem is that I need to get back to work, back to the pen and I can't for the life of me figure which direction to dive. I think the problem is that I think too much - that I have some sort of hyper-spastic mind and pattern of thought, this great and overwhelming desire to crush and conquer all things profound. Or maybe my problem is contradiction -- a need for the profound to crush and conquer me.

Yesterday, I told one of my friends I wanted to look like a cartoon - with every inch of my body sliced and carved, somewhere near perfection. Egg whites and fruit and EVOO and green shakes and steaming vegetables. Adonis squared, that's my aim. And I have no real reason to be, aside from living in this town. Aside from my obsession (that word again) with immortality. Aside from the small weighing fact that my mind has evolved into believing, with total infallibility, that discipline equals strength. Sometimes, I worry I'm moving into an inaccessible direction, not for myself but for...

I can't worry about such things at this time. Tomorrow, who knows...

I'm taking off for a bit, few hours maybe...to see what's out there. It feels good to be back in Los Angeles. It's like a new blood moves me here, this town...this fucking town. When I find a close that closes me down...better believe it to be some fucking mystical shit...

It. He. This. All is...