Just kill the man

Finally got the pleasure of viewing the harnesses of Zayna Bayne at Shotwell on Grant Street. Yeah, they're fucking cool and I sort of would not be bothered if I had to wear one, even though they are the least practical product in the world.Oh, how I have missed the obscenities of San Francisco and their impulse to be as groundbreaking and vulgar as possible.

Lick it up baby, lick it up

Chaos was what killed the dinosaurs, darling.

It's winter in my heart, it never stops....

A song I hold close to my heart, it describes me perfectly at this moment in time. Don't read too much into it, though.

I had dreams
That frightened me awake
I happened to escape
But my escape, would never come
Would never come


Bonne nuit...

I want to show you something

Tonight I FIIIIINALLYYYY saw Where the Wild Things Are. It was not bad, quite aesthetically pleasing and pretty fun. Max Records is a little legend, he is only 12 and can act as well as George Clooney. He's going to be everywhere. However, I thought the writing was pretty weak (Sorry Dave) and the story was slow. I give this movie a B.

Thomas Howard

Something about this opening sequence of The Assassination of Jesse James by the Cowardly Robert Ford strikes a chord. I am sure it is Nick Cave & Warren Ellis's powerful slight melodies, but I feel like everything about this part of the film is my little biography. The convex lens shows a claustrophobia that I'm so familiar with. It seems as if Jesse James was so trapped in his life that he knew the only escape was assassination. Every problem lied in that one focal point that the lens pointed to. I love that about the convex lens, it makes the audience feel as suffocated as the character... everyone is haunted by it. Also, his silhouette and profile shows the key part of this Mister Jesse James; his mystery. We don't ever, ever know what he is thinking and can only hope he knows what the fuck he is doing. This film reminds me why I want to act and direct. It should have won some Oscars. Try not to cry.

About last night

Yesterday, my famous parents threw a nice little fête involving sexing, cheating, drinking, and holidaying. As the night progressed, I noticed more and more people saying "Oh hello, Mary Queen of Scots". Yes, the name is not too ironic and I have been called it several times in my life (sometimes I pretend I'm royalty, on those long nights where the only good thing in my life are re-runs of South Park), but once the sixty-fifth person called me it, I questioned things. Well, it turned out Mum sent out invitations to have a 21st birthday for me. She had informed me that it was a holiday party that also acknowledged my triumphant return to the States. So it was a delightful surprise, despite being called Mary Queen of Scots and learning there was a fleet of invitations sent out starring yours truly. We also celebrated my parent's friends' birthdays, Addie and Dan. All in all, the party was excellent. Everyone knew I had fun with the extent of my shameless maneuvers and neglecting to keep my legs a bit more closed in public. A real way to have a 21st birthday is to be sure everyone around is in their 60s.

What America needs...

Sweden has it figured out.

Maybe if we had Taco Bell show the CO2 emissions on their menu, people would finally get taller and die in a happier state.