He's Still Beautiful, I Still Love Him

This man has had a profound effect upon my life. I ever meet him, I hope I have the presence of mind to kiss him soundly in thanks.

My subconscious is playing tricks on me again, this song appearing in my head before I could even reason why.

Drink up, dreamers, you're running dry

Pirate Fairy? What? Oh, I See. . .

. . . because Tom Hiddleston, that's why.

My friend sent me this link today and I just watched it. I am somewhere between laughing my ass off and hiding behind the couch.

My emotions. They are confused. I think I'm snickering. WHO THE FUCK MAKES A MOVIE ABOUT PIRATE FAIRIES??????? DID SOMEBODY LOSE A BET?????

Okay, wait, cursory investigation reveals a bit more. It just took me a minute. Because the pirate fairy-ing. Thing.

A-HA! I should have known Disney was behind this. Actually, it does make more sense. Captain Hook. Tinkerbell. Okay. But I still think Pirate Fairy sounds like a bad porn or someone's prison nickname.

Or better yet, Pirate Fairy is the mythical bogeyman that lifers warn all the greens about. Better be in your cell at lights out, or the Pirate Fairy will get you!

Hiddles--you kill me with this shit. Seriously.

Wait, what? . . . . I got nothing.

The Elegant Logic of California Arrogance

When people react negatively to you, you just get to feel sorry for them and how hopelessly uptight they are.

For The Love of God, Somebody Roofie Me

Okay, Douchebag Body. Getting real tired of your shit.

After two nights of <4 hours sleep, you decide to pull an all nighter?

I am no longer young. I can't just be up all night for no reason and then go get anything done with the rest of the day.

Insomnia is insidiously isolating.

Inevitable Artefication

It occurs to me, in this strange moment, that one day the vernacular I have used and adopted will be horribly dated. That even the exchanges I have co-opted ironically will be a sign of age, of being out of touch.

It occurs to me that I will one day, glw, be the old timer saying the equivalent of "hepcat" and "groovy." And long before they will have cycled back around to being ironically and self consciously cool again.

Even now I use phrases and words in a silly homage to years only just two decades past. Language may end up being the ultimate life form, as it evolves and changes to suit the times, yet manages to convey the same required information.

This all occurs to me as I play the unlikely role of dog-whisperer and 12-year-old-boy-whisperer. Two things I don't possess, or intend to possess, any when in this lifetime. But two things I find myself somewhat regularly engaged with.

That's how you end up loving cats but coaxing dogs into a bedroom, trying to help foster that bond between boy and pooch. Even if the pooch is the size of a small pony and you could conceivably sleep comfortably on her bed. Seriously.

If you asked me, I would tell you that not for love nor money would I do such things: I refuse commitment.

But perhaps, in refusing commitment, I am able to provide services ad hoc and when other parties desperately need a break.

It's not a bad deal, and I think I might benefit the most from it.

But seriously, this dog is the size of an icelandic horse.

airedale terrier--rides for $5. jodhpurs included.

Things That Flutter, Sink, Slither, and Blink

Somedays the bar gets you. Maybe not even in a demonstrable or recognizable way. But you feel it nonetheless.

The times you are your own worst enemy, your worst handicap.

You can legitimately ask, "Why do anything? What is the point?" It's not self-pity, it's a real question. If your life is weighted towards the negative, you've chosen pessimism, you've realized your own ridiculousness; what's the point?

No one is reliant on you. You have debts no honest man can pay. You're too old to start anew and still too deafened by your fading youth to notice that actually You Are So Much Older Than You Think.

Savannah tulips.

You don't contribute anything to the world, and you won't. You haven't learned any valuable, enriching, or even entertaining skills.

This body is not the body you signed up for. It has never worked to your satisfaction and now even the most drastic measures make no difference. This brain doesn't even work as well as it used to, and it never worked that well to begin with.

There is not a single thought in your head that someone else hasn't expressed or applied in some much better way. There isn't a single thing that you've done that couldn't have been done better by many others.

You have been judged by yourself and found wanting.

Life outlooks are choices. So if you find yourself adrift in pessimism (which is the secret cancer of all idealists), what is the point? Why are you still here?

No matter the presence or absence of religious/spiritual beliefs, all humans create a coping mechanism which gives them something to build on in day to day life. Your life can be beautiful, if that's the way you choose to see it.

I had a wonderful few days of Not Giving A Fuck. Or maybe I had a few wonderful days because i Did Not Give A Fuck. Whichever, that is a train in need to board soon.

In other news, hipster douchebag twats have appropriated the monocle. Jesus wept.

Post True Detective Finale: Open Letter To Nic Pizzolatto and the Cast & Crew

Dear Nic P,

You clever thing. You told me how it was going to end. I knew how it was going to end. Somehow you wrung surprise out of a foregone conclusion. Few things are more delicious in story listening than realizing your expectancy of the narrative has been both right and wrong at the same time.

Thanks for the wild ride. Thanks for not sucker punching us. Thanks for only breaking our hearts as much as was necessary. And thanks for the unexpected hope.

Cast & Crew,

You kick ass. Directing, set design, wardrobe, lighting, sound, that little acting part--what a first class production.

>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>

This series has been a phenomenal experience. I now have to blather to assuage my feels.

The thematic balance has been incredible. They spend the shows telling you exactly how to watch the shows and what's coming next. Time is a flat circle. We've been here before and we will be here again.

Rust Cohle didn't just stare into the abyss, he saw what the Monsters see when they stare.

Woody Harrelson being tearfully "all right" was amazing. I thought we had lost him to Carcosa for a minute there.

What was it about Rust's experience in the void that comforted him? Was it the memory of love, that he carried that feeling with him? Was he ready to die, but the love of his daughter made him want to live? Was it knowing that the last thing he felt was love, and this made all the bad shit a lot more understandable? Was it knowing that his daughter must have felt the same love when she died?

Me: Ah! They're flipping each other the bird again. That's true love, right there.

My Brother: Uh, I think you might have a weird definition of true love.

Loved all the Jesus-ish touches with Rust from the showdown to the hospital. It wasn't too pointed, just lovely suggestions, visual wisps.

McMatt managed to get a shirt partially off. I have no objections to this.

I was reminded tonight that my visual perceptions and conclusions about life and my experiences ARE NOT everybody else's. And that mine might seem really weird to some people. I just forget that, sometimes.

It's 1 am. I need to stop thinking about all this. I need to go to bed.

Today was a good day.

Prior To The True Detective Finale

This has been an awesome ride. I feel good enough to venture two predictions:

1. Nothing that happens in this episode can diminish my admiration and appreciation of this show.

2. Rev. Rust, in the Library, with The LoneStar Beercan-Man
-- but really

• Carcosa is the promise of life after death, or defying death. It's an idea, not the formal name of a physical location or object. LMM may refer to his den as Carcosa, but I think it's a much bigger idea than that.
• Yellow King is not a person. An idea. A religious idea.
• Audrey Hart saw, at least, a video tape of one of the cult's pedophilic rituals.
• Audrey Hart was exposed to this media via her maternal Grandfather. He had something on hand that she saw. Don't feel like's he's a cult member, but I don't have much else to theorize about it. Unless he's a lawyer.
• There will be no final justice. There will be no great public scandal. Rust and Marty will set in motion the wheels that expose more people, but those involved are too powerful and nobody wants the bad PR. So some people might have some real early retirements and maybe some "other" minor convictions. But the evil at the root of these crimes will not be wholly eradicated.
• Rust will die. Marty will die.
• Rust will live. Marty will live. 
• Both. Time is a flat circle.
• And Maggie is not part of the goddamn cult, ffs. 

See you guys on the other side of Carcosa.

The McConnaisance Is Killing Me

And I haven't even seen Dallas Buyers Club yet.

Though it might very well be that my real problem is True Detective.

ETA: I know these pics are oversized. Bear with me as I try to figure the right specs to hard code them. The "Large" option just isn't big enough to do these babies justice.

Got dayum. Got dayum. Got dayum.

There is a lot of Texas in this picture.

A moment of intimate domestic violence, both expressed and implied.

Okay, so the McConnaisance is somewhat a factor.

The South. It's all growth amidst decay.

This on of the intro credit images that strikes me every time.

This one hurts my heart sometimes. I don't know why.

Smartasses of the world, unite.

Fukunaga and his goddamn opulent sparseness.

Many of the most consistent iconographies seem to be Baroque. This could be Catholic, Santeria, or Rock N Roll.

This is just an amazing image.

I'm Dangerously In Love With True Detective

How could you see it and not be similarly moved?

Edited to add:

Episode 7 just ended. Fuck me running.

And now Christoph Waltz is presenting at the Oscars.

There is great and terrible beauty in this world.