My Whole Expanse I Cannot See…

Sometimes I stumble upon random little movies on iTunes, I buy them on a whim and hope for the best. I usually have really good luck, Lonesome Jim, Wristcutters: A Love Story, both excellent. Idiocracy, however, was almost as painful as reading Dune. Honestly, I like my Russian-roulette approach to movie buying, it has yet to kill me. انواع البوكر

The Life Before Her Eyes is my most recent spin, and I definitely wasn’t disappointed. It’s the story of two high school girls who are confronted by a fellow student gunning his way through the building. He says that he’s only going to kill one of the two best-friends, but they have to decide which. The film then flashes forward to show the life of the surviving girl, a life that slowly unravels. لعبة كريكت

The film is gorgeously shot and well-acted, Uma Thurman playing the guilt-plagued survivor. The story has a twist, and while the twist didn’t particularly surprise me, I don’t at all regret watching. It was definitely worth the random purchase.

I have this tattoo, “Give me patience,” it’s an allusion to Palahniuk’s Invisible Monsters. The book meant a lot to me and I figured having those words etched into my arm would be good, as sometimes I feel really short on patience. I feel really short on it right now. The tattoo’s not giving me anything. I want things, simple things, but they all seem so far away just now. It’s astonishingly frustrating.

I’m wondering if patience would help me, maybe it wouldn’t. Maybe patience is just a way to pacify a person when they ought to fight harder. I really don’t know.

Baron VanderMeer hissed, “What did you think about Dune? It wasn’t clear from your post.”

Swallowing with a dry throat, Michael said presently, “I have nothing but abject hatred for it.”

Things that are better than Dune:

• Root canals

• Trache changes

• Getting punched in the face while wearing glasses

• Kitty Jesus

• Pink eye

• Communism (dedicated to Celeste)

• The Anti-Christ

• Stale pretzels

• Being raped by woodland critters

• Spontaneous blindness

In about five hours I go for another trache change, I’m a little uneasy about it just now. I’ve been pretty down on myself for a half a year’s worth of mistakes, and I’ve been really afraid that I can’t fix things, but that’s ridiculous. I can, of course I can, provided that I think clearly and don’t quit. I’m not going to lay down and die, I’ve thought about it, but I’m not. I’m going to Jefferson Smith my way out of this fucking mess, I’m going to fight for this lost cause.

I just have to not die in the O.R. After that, it’s so on.

So, I’m watching Death Race, and while mindless, it’s really rather entertaining. The fast cars, the violence, the over-the-top death and carnage, it’s fun to watch on some bizarre visceral level. I just saw a guy burn to death in his car, another guy impaled by steel beams through his windshield, neither shocked me. It’s all so overblown, to the point hilarity. I can watch almost any crazy violent movie and remain entirely detached. Rob Zombie’s “films,” however, really bother me, but that’s an exception.

Yet, as entertaining as an insanely violent movie may be, I could never watch a real-world Death Race if such a thing existed. Real-world violence is completely different in my head, completely disturbing. I can’t detach from it.

I don’t think liking fictional violence is unhealthy. It’s only unhealthy when a person can’t tell the difference between reality and fiction.

She’d have left George Bailey so fast his Goddamn fucking head would have spun off. That’s how little she’s willing to take the shakes in her fellow.

Rarely do I ever hate a book, I usually find something worthwhile in whatever I read. However, I can safely say that I feel nothing but abject hatred toward Dune. It’s the current selection for my little two person book club, and I think I hate it worse than Adventures of Huckleberry Finn. It’s powerful bad.

I’m just over halfway through Dune and I’m starting to feel like I’d rather eat glass than finish the other half. كازينو آنلاين It’s that tedious. I wish Paul Atreides would just die in a fire.

So, earlier this evening I was out holiday shopping when a woman, obviously filled with the Holy Spirit, excitedly asked to pray over me. I never say no to this, as the person always seems so into it. Tonight’s prayer was particularly intriguing, as the really excited woman prayed for the restoration of my entire body in the name of Jesus.

I don’t think it worked.

See, I write dark things so that I can look at the darkness from a different angle. I look at the darkness from the outside, it’s often frightening, but then I’m able face it. I should be able to deal with things internally, but sometimes I just can’t.

I bleed out in writing, and that depressed part of me dies. I get focused and try again.