best joke i've heard in a while:

"I'm writing a screenplay about what would happen if Helen Keller could see dead people. It's called The Fourth Sense." - Dan Mintz

love

nostalgia

love

nostalgia

love

nostalgia

love

nostalgia

again.

there are things you desperately want to put into words.

hope

stale cigarettes.

your winter coat can act as a time capsule. as a new winter settles in, you'll go through the pockets, and you'll find little artifacts from a year ago. artifacts that remind you of your life a year ago. artifacts that you'll hand to a stranger because you don't want them, and they don't belong to you anymore anyways. 

k a bit of honesty here

i've been playing drums for 13 years

and there's nothing worse than a drum solo

even i can't stand them

if my kid plays the drums

i'll kill myself

so annoying

but there's exceptions to every rule. i could probably watch this all day:

this little lady, Marnie Stern, is the shit.

totally the shit:

"In every poem by Matisse there is the history of a particle of human flesh which refused the consummation of death. The whole run of flesh, from hair to nails, expresses the miracle of breathing, as if the inner eye, in its thirst for a greater reality, had converted the pores of the flesh into hungry seeing mouths. By whatever vision one passes there is the odor and the sound of voyage. It is impossible to gaze at even a corner of his dreams without feeling the lift of the wave and the cool of flying spray. He stands at the helm peering with steady blue eyes into the portfolio of time. Into what distant corners has he not thrown his long, slanting gaze? Looking down the vast promontory of his nose he has beheld everything- the Cordilleras falling away into the Pacific, the history of the Diaspora done in vellum, shutters fluting the froufrou of the beach, the piano curving like a conch, corollas giving out diapasons of light, chameleons squirming under the book press, seraglios expiring in oceans of dust, music issuing like fire from the hidden chromosphere of pain, spore and madrepore fructifying the earth, navels vomiting their bright spawn of anguish... He is a bright sage, a dancing seer who, with a sweep of the brush, removes the ugly scaffold to which the body of man is chained by the incontrovertible facts of life. He it is, if any man today possesses the gift, who knows where to dissolve the human figure, who has the courage to sacrifice an harmonious line in order to detect the rhythm and murmur of the blood, who takes the light that has been refracted inside him and lets if flood the keyboard of color. Behind the minutiae, the chaos, the mockery of life, he detects the invisible pattern; he announces his discoveries in the metaphysical pigment of space. No searching for formulae, no crucifixion of ideas, no compulsion other than to create. Even as the world goes smash there is one man who remains at the core, who becomes more solidly fixed and anchored, more centrifugal as the process of dissolution quickens." - Henry Miller.

i don't want this book to end.

There was only one reason to watch the tragedy that was the fourth Indiana Jones.

Cate Blanchett i love you.

How do you make Garfield comics awesome?

You take Garfield out of them.

haha i'd like to erase most of that. but in the spirit of candor, it shall remain.

here's the terrifying burden of felt physical truth:

the limits of physicality HAVE to be tested because they can be.

i'm sorry.

here's the burden of felt drunken truth:

the limits of drunkenality HAVE to be tested because you might die and maybe you should.

okay. i'm done.

time to pass out.

the knowledge of having missed something is flavored with a sense of humility and regret that crushes the present spirit, the spirit that feels its presentness is irrefutable, is undeniable, and is, ultimately, tragically, stupid.

in supporting my theory about life/art/life and art

coming to a realization about a crossroads in your life

in the moment that you are watching a movie

AT THE SAME TIME

when a character is making as unwittingly and unknowing a decision as YOU were

there's a parallelism and a synchronization

and a poeticism there

that is

nothing but a mistake

and simultaneously

can't be a mistake

that is just too mindboggling to comprehend.

and that's the lesson.

humble yourself to reality and the extent you are able to react and act within it.

it seems this blog/journal/whatever has lately become some sort of effort to guide one through the endless labyrinth of media. that's stupid. not intentional. still stupid. but ultimately okay. because you can really do nothing but forgive someone when you realize they're up against an infinity of interpretation.

in that spirit

i just clicked "No Country for Old Men" on and...

it didn't strike a wise, old, young little Jake at the time but

julian and i went to see it with our three elder statesmen of the Previous Generation.

Tom. Chris. Peter.

the general consensus was the following:

youth: "that movie was the fucking shit. holy crap. awesome."

passed time: "huh? i don't think i get it. i didn't like it. wait, what? the movie had no ending."

if you took a bullshit English course, the one where the empty-headed clone spewed algae-colored nonsense reeking of home-schooling, banality, and tradition, and the professor countered with the faintest hint of interesting, yet tragically institutional thought, you would learn that this is the definition of irony.

they ABSOLUTELY should have been able to understand the movie.

this doesn't undermine the movie.

it underminds ABSOLUTENESS.

they regurgitated it like a bulimic on thanksgiving.

thank you.

i'm in good form this evening.

learn one thing,

alcohol robs me of my one virtue.

the virtue that disappears when you say its name.

goddam. it's some sort of horrible Gollum riddle in the deep dark cave where Bilbo finds the ring.

sorry, when you find the answer, you won't turn invisible.

strange that that should be the ultimate power.

ick. maybe Tolkein was on to something frightening and disgusting and true and...

rubber baby bugger bottom dollar fountain ick.....

it's all nonsense.

poop on you.

so. that makes it 2 henry miller tattoos. i've got 2 tattoos from a crazy ass misogynist(?). my main defense is portrayal and representation are not necessarily endorsements. and misogyny doesn't necessarily negate his profound views on morality and action and time and the universe. so... go like this... and get a grip.

today, i was musically very... OMC circa 1996. it was a wu tang/tilly and the wall kind of day. with a dash of the microphones.  as far as tilly and the wall, you really can't go wrong with a really awesome song and really hot girls:

watch this documentary. it's totally the shit.