My Whole Expanse I Cannot See…

It’s probably a little late for this, but I saw Drag Me to Hell, Sam Raimi’s return to horror. It’s the tale of a woman who makes the mistake of turning down an elderly gypsy woman’s request for a mortgage extension. ربح مجاني  The gypsy woman does not take this well, she curses poor banker lady, damning her soul to Hell. العاب اندرويد

Watching the movie, I felt like I had been dragged to Hell, except Hell was really boring, and not particularly scary. It’s a movie of cheap startles, the gypsy woman jumps out a lot, there are creepy loud noises, but that’s about it. Drag Me to Hell’s story is absolutely tedious, and poorly acted. الكازينو I hope that when I die and go to real Hell it’s more interesting.

I hadn’t listened to Alanis Morissette in a long time, years, but last night I dug out my favorite album, Supposed Former Infatuation Junkie. I think it’s her smartest, often angriest album, and I spent a good stretch of years identifying with that sort anger. After high-school, for a solid six years, I had a great deal of internal anger. I didn’t end up going to college like I expected. I didn’t have any friends who weren’t online, let alone an honest to Christ girlfriend. I was going to disability advocacy meetings with my mom, not living like a fellow of twenty. I didn’t have assistants, nothing was what I wanted for myself. It all happened so slowly, steadily, and I grew to hate it. I never talked about it, never knew how. It was hard to live that way because I’ve never thought to myself, oh, I’m disabled, so I obviously can’t have a girlfriend, or leave the house without my mom. Fuck that, it’s not me. I couldn’t directly identify with Alanis’ lyrics, I didn’t share her experiences, but I definitely understood them on an intellectual level, and I felt the emotion behind them. My anger was in that I was lacking experiences, and the necessary support toward such experiences. That lack of experiences ended three years ago.

So, last night, Alanis starts singing Would Not Come. I’ve always liked the song, always understood it intellectually, but last night it hit me completely differently. I’m living this song, right fucking now I’m living it. For the last fucking year, I’ve lived it. I was so close to everything I ever wanted, and I lost it in a blink, so fast my head spun, so fast my head still spins. I lost my end to loneliness, the lover I wanted for so long. I lost my best friend, my muse. Right now, my life is a series of fixes, trying to find something that will not come.

Yet, when I don’t feel like bleeding in the bathtub, I realize that my life is better than empty. I feel awful, beyond fucked up, but I got here by way of so many experiences. I can genuinely identify with so many songs, I have so many of my own words to write, I’m not devoid of a life. Yes, the songs are of loss, addiction, depression, suicide. Yes, my writing is very dark. Still, bad experiences are better than abject nothingness.

I don’t want to be here. Sometimes I’d happily open my wrists and be done. Still, if I manage to dig my way out of this nightmare, if I don’t break, I’ll be a better me.

If I were 14, never seen a good movie, or read a good book, never made love to a woman, I imagine Terminator Salvation would have seemed absolutely brilliant. As it is, I’m not 14, and I’ve experienced all of the above, so this Terminator re-boot just made me regret that I wasn’t doing something genuinely fulfilling.

There’s a scene where a fellow dies and the audience sees it through his eyes, it was unfortunately very reminiscent of The Diving Bell and the Butterfly. I had ridiculous flashbacks of being afraid to die. I’m sitting there, at this astonishingly bad movie, thinking about the fact that one day my eyes will go dark and it won’t be my idea. I’m at this bad movie, feeling disconnected from everyone around me, the full weight of wasted time pressing down on my chest, wishing I was somewhere else, with someone else.

So, I guess Terminator Salvation made me feel something other than bored.

So, I went to see Angels and Demons and it was really boring, so I must have fallen asleep. I mean, honestly, how many stories do we need about the Catholic Church being secretive, backward-thinking, and often evil?

At any rate, I must have dozed off, because I think I had a crazy dream. I dreamt the movie involves a bomb made out of anti-matter, and this bomb is going to destroy Vatican City. So, to save the Vatican, Ewan McGregor, who’s a priest, grabs the bomb, jumps in a helicopter and flies way up in the sky above Saint Peter’s Square. The bomb, made of anti-matter, detonates high enough above the city only to cause minor damage. Oh, and thank Christ, Ewan parachutes safely away. Then I woke up, and the rest was very predictable.

The end.

Let me start by saying that I’ve never liked Star Trek in any of its forms. However, I really loved the latest version of Star Trek. I don’t care that none of the science and technology made any sense, I don’t even care that some of the acting was paper thin, it was just flat out fun to watch. I felt like I was watching Star Wars, before Lucas had his breakdown.

So, recently I finished reading Death: A Life by George Pendle. The book is an autobiography told by Death, the fellow in the black robe who ushers the souls of the dead into the void. Death explains that he is the son of Satan and Sin, born before the Time of Creation. Only Heaven, Hell and nothingness, Earth was still yet to be Created. Much of Death’s childhood is spent with his mother, Sin, as Satan isn’t much of a family man. These are very lonely years for Death, he spends most of the time having sex with his mom, or torturing her for fun. Sin, by the way, is a hideously fat demon with serpents for hair, leaking caustic fluids from every orifice in her body. Needles to say, Death grows up a little odd. He goes on to describe the early, and chaotic first days Creation, the moment he discovers his true purpose in Life, his dealings with God and angels, falling in love with a mortal, his unfortunate addiction to Life, and the fact that he’s really not a bad guy. He’s just doing his job.

Death: A Life is a comedy, a work of satire, and it’s astonishingly boring. God’s kind of a thoughtless bumbler. Satan and Sin are evil, but friendly enough. Jesus is kind of a jerk who tells people, “eat me!” Death is like Santa Claus, he can travel the entire world, completely outside of time, ushering souls into the void. Oh, and everything has a soul, even turnips. Nothing in the book is particularly original, amusing, or compelling. The idea of an imperfect God isn’t new, or interesting in this case. Fiction is supposed to be entertaining, not dull and tedious.

I’m not a religious fellow. I’m Catholic enough to believe in Hell, and that I’ll probably go there. God and I aren’t really pals lately. Still, I love talking about religion.

So, Catholics believe in God the Father, God the Son (Jesus) and the Holy Ghost. They’re three separate beings, but they add up to the One True God. Nobody really knows how this is possible, it’s just supposed to be believed. It’s supposed to be taken on faith that They’re separate, but One.

Now, God of the Old Testament was often pretty harsh and vengeful, He fucked over plenty of people. Jesus, His Son, however, was all about love and forgiveness. Jesus, the Prince of Peace. The Holy Ghost is also supposed to be quite loving, very kind. Currently, They’re all said to be in Heaven, Three as One.

I often wonder if just because Jesus loves us perfectly and forever, couldn’t God still be hardcore and fuck us over when He feels like it? Could the One God actually hate us? Of course, He can’t hate us if He doesn’t exist at all.

Personally, I believe in God, but I don’t think He cares one way or another what happens to us. What about you?

This song is really interesting, to me it’s one of the best things Elliott Smith ever wrote. It’s about institutionalization, being hospitalized for depression. When I was in for depression, I went voluntarily. I signed up on purpose, but once you’re in, you’re in for awhile. You can’t just change your mind and go home. Being honest about my dark thoughts at the beginning only made things worse. They pumped me full of drugs I didn’t need, drugs that made me feel like I was dying. I just needed to talk to someone, but nobody would really listen. It was a terrifying experience, just like the song. It seems to mirror many people’s experiences. I’ve talked to several, and we all agree that the thing we learned from going to the hospital for depression is that we never want to go to the hospital for depression.

Memory Lane is so sad and beautiful, because it’s true to me. Darkness is very lonely, most people don’t understand how it feels. People don’t know how to help, so sometimes they don’t even try. Sometimes the “help” you do get only makes things worse. Honestly, I don’t think one can genuinely understand darkness unless they’ve been there, and back. I know that when I need to talk to someone, it’s always better to talk to someone who’s been lost like me. Whenever I meet someone in a dark place, I’m not one to leave them if they need me. We should look out for each other, because I don’t think shiny happy people really know how.

It’s really beautiful when a writer can take abstract feelings, like addiction and depression, and turn them into words that perfectly describe such abstracts. Elliott Smith was one of those writers, just honest and eloquent. I especially love this song, it’s a gorgeous description of the empty peace found in alcohol, and the reasons one might seek it. I’ve had my share of drinks, drinks to make me okay.

These are the lyrics to a B-Side version of Nirvana’s I Hate Myself and Want to Die. As a whole, I don’t think that it makes sense, I don’t think it’s all supposed to make sense. I love the song because certain lines are very powerful, and, at least to me, meaningful. Kurt was absolutely fucking brilliant at abstract word art.

Do any lines strike you as important? My next tattoo might be one of these lines.