Posts Tagged ‘opinion

14
Aug
19

The Older Man at the Dating Carnival

****

So, there I was, a middle-aged man at what is essentially a carnival, surrounded by families, couples and a zoological encyclopedia of younger women often traveling in small packs like wild gazelles.

I found myself longing and looking at the young gazelles…and then feeling completely out of sorts and out of place. Had I indulged my youthful thoughts, I’d later admonish myself for acting like some pedophile. I look around, trying to spot the older cheetahs, the cougars and elephants…and I can’t see anything other than mothers, wives and grandmas. I feel completely out of place with attachment to nothing other than the family I accompany, and even that is sketchy attachment, like a loose tooth waiting to pop out of a kid’s mouth. I am adrift in the sea of human connectivity. And, being so lost, I had almost no interest in being among the crowd.

Part of me wanted to blink my eyes and storm right back to the car or even hike all the way home. Part of me was lingering like a child insistant on getting a balloon or toy before he goes home. I came to sample new foods and help my nephews have fun and be safe. I could only manage the babysitting duty. The food (and mingling, if I had that nerve) just couldn’t fit itself into my abilities; the heat and crowding didn’t help.

Some day, you’ll find me in a National Geographic special on human nature and see the lone, hungry outsider who can’t seem to find a mate or make many decisions. He will be tortured by constant references to Taylor Swift (whose name kept popping up at said carnival as if the phone was ringing for me to take some kind of action I did not know).
[What am I to do, Tay? They’re playing your song. They’re naming pigs after you. They have your “swag” for sale. The days of Hannah Montana and the first wave of Spice Girls didn’t generate as much attention. Suddenly, you’re everywhere…and I feel like I am nowhere. I don’t want a Taylor Swift sundae or Cotton Cand-Tay. I want to *savor* the real thing.]

Sorry, readers, for bringing her into yet another blog post. But, it happened for a reason. Of that, I am certain. I’m just not sure why.

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14
Aug
19

Award Shows Are Bogus ver. 081419

***

I’ve been fairly certain for a while. But, now, I am convinced; award shows are complete crap, utter rubbish, excessively expensive lies designed to look glamorous at the expense of souls.

All participants…all of those members of the “foreign press”…are either naïve or devious scum. Now, some of that naïve scum could redeem itself; there’s still hope. But, those who run the machines are surely black as sin or the thickest roots in an underground railroad to decide, like some Hunger Games contest, which celebrities and “little people” (the faceless crew members who outnumber the big names and slave over the projects of those who call themselves producers) get food and care for the year and who gets to fight over the scraps and eat shit. The lucky ones get their names attached to the next box-office big ticket while the bottom of the food chain gets to show of their bodies and talk stupid in the films that come out at the end of summer, when “kids” go back to school and no one gives a flying fook what they watch.

Now, breathe. And, let me shed a little light on the shape of this crap…or, rather, what supports my stomach-turning, fury-stoking feelings.

Every year, there’s that “best picture” film that takes one big award and another…and another…and gets so much buzz from all those cracked camera-toting tabloid freak shows who put every famous and not-so-famous face on the spot with stupid questions, testing them to see if they crack and say anything different from their last interview, anything negative about the people they recently knew as part of the crew. Everybody is “amazing.” Every experience is something good for the resume, even if the person secretly loathed or struggled through it. Every director is uniquely talented. Every interview is to make sure the next job goes smoothly and to collect a check; so don’t expect anyone to answer openly and honestly, even if you’re straight-shooting, expected-to-cuss Samuel L. Jackson.

So, why do we even do interviews?! It’s not for the fans. It’s for promotion…more and more promotion. An interview is a talking movie poster which can’t say anything about what happens in the movie, due to contractual threats that pretty much shackle all who partake in making the expensive torture package that actors refuse to watch because they struggled through it; they didn’t enjoy it. An interview is just a painful showcase of faces who habitually look down when they feel the urge to lie, to hold in the vomit and glaze over what they’d like to say. Hey! Look who’s in the movie! And, they’re talking without reading a script! How amazing…like watching animals behind glass in a zoo.

If you really enjoyed making something, wouldn’t you want to look at it, again? Or, do you go crazy because you find a mistake and realize you can’t correct it? Your hard work is now someone else’s baby, and you have no control. So, all your effort amounts to what someone makes of it. That’s rather cruel punishment in its own way and not respectful to the creative soul.

And, I have sampled a number of these “amazing” films. Not one has earned 5 out of 5 stars with me; they’re all lucky if they get a 3. I saw The English Patient, Schindler’s List, The Hurt Locker and, just recently, The Shape of Water. Oh, there was SO much buzz about The Shape of Water, not too long ago. And, I remember the high praise the rare FEMALE director got for The Hurt Locker. Of all the films I just mentioned, I guess The Hurt Locker was the best…but that’s not saying much. When you put Average Joe in a pageant with four corpses beaten to a bloody pulp, of course Average Joe is going to look good and smell all the sweeter. It’s like that one girl in school who gathers a cluster of less pretty girls around her so she stands out as the pretty one; it’s like some status tactic used by schools of fish.

Now, let me come right out and say I did not see these films in the theater for a good reason; I had my doubts from the start. And, again, it took just one lousy lie of a rental to sully my belief in all the award talk. But, I keep hope alive, and I…I guess maybe I’m a little naïve, too, yet, to give these other “hits” a chance. I want to see what makes them so great.

So, let’s talk about my latest mistake, The Shape of Water. Oh, how the director got lauded with praise and looked so sweet and innocent on stage, giving his grand speech and kudos to all who let him make such a…gruesome, rude and lewd film. If I may be so frank, it’s as if he was extremely horny and hungry while watching the old Creature from the Black Lagoon, late at night, and then had the nerve to think making a remake with more nudity and foul language was a great idea. What a damn creative fool.

Sally Hawkins is the poster woman for the demure, docile, closet freak. Thank goodness she didn’t go on some murderous rampage; that would have really ruined the part. All crap aside, she gave the film an ounce of redemption…well, aside from what she had to do in the first half-hour. Seriously, del Toro, excessive nudity…excessive because it had NOTHING to do with the story. Nada. You didn’t get a close up of her scars until the one guy examined her. No; you just had her get naked, over and over, again, for your personal amusement.

And, what was with the other sex scene? Why didn’t you go one step or two steps further? Why not have the gay artist–with his foul mouth and obsessive dialogue–take advantage of the pie guy? Come on, throw in some finger this and f-that while they indulge in some gay sex. Or, why couldn’t Octavia Spencer get naked with her husband? Why can’t black and gay folks get fair sex play? Booo! No, I’m just kidding. But, really, why include any sex other than what was the focus of the film? There only had to be one sex scene, and you spoiled it before they got in the tub.

I would not be surprised if you ended up in court with all the other poor and stupid men who are getting grilled for indecent actions. I would not be surprised if something popped out of your closet. Why can’t you keep certain lewd thoughts to yourself? And, why did you have to make the film so graphic when it could have been a much nicer and just as exotic love story?

You went down some Stephen King, Martin Scorsese, Quentin Tarantino side street and drove through Frank Miller’s neighborhood. You took Splash and turned it into Sin City. Oh, sure the ending is bittersweet and finally happy; but I ate a ton of shit before I could even try to smile; so the whole experience left me queasy. You poured acid on my whipped cream sundae. You’re not the worst film maker out there…but The Shape of Water had better not be your opus. I’d like the water to wash it out of my memory so I can fantasize, again. Your “big hit” is a giant seagull dropping, not something I could comfortably watch more than once. It has little to no replay value; I’d snip off just the final ten minutes and call it a lovely short film that encompasses the best of the story…which pretty much makes the movie another Citizen Kane; just spare us the horrific two-plus hours and tell us it was your childhood sled.

You want my humble rating? Would that do anything for you? I’d give The Shape of Water 1 out of 5 stars, overall. I’d give Sally Hawkins 4 stars for being a beautiful, caring freak who thankfully didn’t do anything too gross or wrong to make me hate her; and I feel sorry for her, for having to expose herself the way she did. I’d give cinematography 3 stars, maybe 4, because the movie did have a decent colored noir quality to it; it suited a Dick Tracy sort of story. But, Octavia Spencer pretty much reprised her roll in The Help; so what can I rave about that? One black woman in an otherwise white world? And, the story? I already said; it’s The Creature from the Black Lagoon in modern 3-DUH, Dolby foul mouth, bloody Sunday whack-a-vision. You get no points for creativity other than visual artistry, period. You are just another big name with all of the latest tools in your kit, and when given the chance to build a sand castle, you played with mud pies. When you had the chance to focus on a Cinderella story, you chose to screw the docile doe in the dark room; you put the horny jerk in the same cage with the last unicorn (and thank goodness *that* didn’t happen). [And, FYI, oddities eating cats went out with Alf…and it wasn’t any funnier then, either…but it was suggested, not on camera.]

But, ya all come back now and watch my masterpiece, again, ya hear? This is a family show…not. It definitely earns its R rating, unlike some films that only get an R because of one lousy little cross of the line. I’d say The Shape of Water even edges an X rating…because there was more flashing of boob and overt sex than most R-rated films I’ve seen.

Here’s a brief lesson in the school of suggestion: Sex, nudity and gore can be veiled and still convey the message.
1) When Sally’s character takes a bath or shower, we could see her silhouette behind a shower curtain, and we’d still know she’s naked. Or, you could have her enter the bathroom and cut to her already covered in soap suds; no need to expose the actress or any body double you may have used…which would only make the whole effort even more stupid and pointless.

When I was in school, my English/writing teachers would draw red circles around portions of stories that didn’t contribute to the plot or characters and took away from the overall enjoyment. What you included (which turned me off and made me ill) was definitely not key to anything; I am sure most viewers would be aware of a person needing to get naked for a bath or having sex with a wife…or were you afraid people might think the creep’s marriage was void of sex?…hey, that might have made that other scene with the cleaning lady better; ya know?

2) A rather pointless sex scene could be conveyed with sounds and/or two flirty people slipping into a room together; ya don’t have to show the woman exposing herself and the cruel, creepy, FBI-ish, White-Collar-Bizarro guy throttling her on the bed!

[How to curb/replace the excessive foul and lewd language is another matter…I’d just omit it. It didn’t make the love story any prettier. It just lumped your enchanting crapper-piece with the likes of Superbad and…I can’t think of any other crappers at the moment…thank goodness they are washed from memory. I’ve seen movies with rape scenes that were just as creepy/unsettling but more suggestive than overt.]

3) When your feature creature wants to eat another animal… Couldn’t you have shown the creature holding the cat and then cut away to an audio clip of someone crunching celery. Then, when the owner returns, have him look down and recoil in horror…and we’d get it! We’d know why he’s horrified. Ya don’t have to show all the bits and blood. Bleh!

Can you imagine some steamy love story where the man makes the woman bleed in the you-know-what area and one or both lovers develop a scarring STD after they have their sweaty fun? [Ya know what; that just gave me a crazy idea for a sexual alien comedy that would still be far cleaner than your mess.] Would you enjoy that movie as much as a more suggestive one without the unfortunate side effects of some realities? There’s a line between realistic and horrifying reality…and you sure cross it, mister, but not for the benefit of the viewers…unless you want to scare people away from love fantasies and support eating disorders…because I could have developed one had I kept my eyes glued on the screen and not used the fast-forward button.

At this rate, I could lose my appetite for film, altogether, before I am old enough to be a cripple stuck in a wheelchair in front of some TV with a bunch of other elder folks losing their minds to medication abuse. Just think…what’s the use in going into movie-making, aspiring to create some soul-satisfying masterpiece when the whole industry is one more mine field of twisted metal, of warping your dreams into nightmares and slave labor? People are dying and committing suicide for some reason. And, it doesn’t surprise me when I try to grasp what all goes into this industry and the infuriating cover-ups that get splashed all over TV screens, even when some creative soul dies tragically.

Losing my appetite for film would be a serious crime against nature, against my creative soul. The water is so polluted, even I am having a hard time writing/creating anything spectacular; but, then again, I work alone, most of the time. I don’t have a clue what it’s like to be surrounded by teammates who can actually work together to make something run like clockwork and make people wonder what the budget must have been to create such a spectacle.

So, I must remind myself not to pay a lick of attention to award shows. Or, at least, I must go to bed before that final fifteen minutes into overtime when we viewers are supposed to be holding our breaths for the big reveal, the final envelope of crap. I must write them off and stick to the trailers that work for me.

Sell me a good trailer, and I’ll give you a chance. And, if you lie to me…..well, let’s just say my response will be…amazing, amazing crying crazy amazing. You’ll certainly find me writing you off my interest list. And, I have ways of swaying the masses. Not that it matters much when the majority seems to be losing all sense of creativity, as if they’ve become so numb from countless abusive images that they no longer have the brain cells to produce anything remotely as good as the stories they refuse to let go, stories from so long ago, they’ve been dragged behind cars for decades, tossing through one remake after another like tin cans on strings.

You know who the real losers are here (aside from creative souls)? The movie theaters and good people who appreciate them. All of the modern technology this world pushes for and all of the crappy, expensive films that get made…bump out all of the wonderful places that one could say feel like a second home. The day when someone decides to shut down the last movie theater in favor of some microscopic internet service station (ding! ding! goes the air tube keeping you couch potatoes alive), I’m sure to cry or have a considerably furious stomach upset because it will be like a nuclear bomb going off and destroying some serene tourist attraction. [Don’t get me started on the horrors of nuclear power pursuits.]

There wouldn’t be any concern for piracy if people didn’t introduce devices that could do such a thing. And, if movie theaters could afford better security without making visitors feel violated like other venues that practically X-ray you when you walk through, if people still cared, maybe thieves wouldn’t get away with what they still do, even after the days of VHS and the most primitive of camcorders. I don’t know why anyone cares about bootlegging, lately…because I am not sure what films are really worth stealing. Or, is that why so many films suck and twist the original story material?…is that why Michael Bay mangled Transformers?…because too many pirates were trying to make a buck off other people’s work? So, since the dawn of film piracy, everyone in the industry just started pumping out their worst, not their best? We settled into dependency upon whatever the latest technology is and putting up poster children as feature stars? Are we selling good stories or the latest model of movie camera you can only get at exclusive electronics stores?…on sale this week until tomorrow…flash sale!

And, breathe. I…don’t know how to wrap this up. The stench is just pouring out of me. So, I leave it as it is, like a broken garbage bag. I had to air it out, though, so I didn’t die from the stink in silence. Now, you know, and knowing is half the battle.

10
May
19

You Don’t Bring Me Pleasurrre…Anymorrre

***

This one goes out to all you tech heads running this space.

You don’t bring me commeeeents.
You don’t lead me to lasting friendshiiips.

You hardly show me anything helpfulll, anymorrre,
When I log in during the downsiiide of my solituuuude.

I remember when this was all fresh and new;
And, flashing signs promised so many pleasing options.
You used to welcome me with that little light.
Now, I’m lucky if it ever shines.

When it’s good for you, WordPress,
It still sucks for me.

Well, you just roll over;
Roll out your new format
And tell me to update my technology.
Because you don’t bring me pleasurrrre, anymorrrre.

It used to be so simple. [Used to be.]
But, nothing ever is.
Just like breathing in all of the pollution,
Your place is littered with lousy biiiz.

WordPress, I’d say I remember all the things you taught me,
But then, I learned them before yooou.

I learned how followers are often nothing but cons, mindless drones and thieves.
And, how LIKES mean next to nothiiing.

Well, I also learned how to limit my usage
And apply my time to better thiiings.

But, honestlyyy, what are better thiiings?

So, do you think I could learn
How to tell you goodbye?

Because you don’t lead me to lasting friendshiiip.

You don’t confirm my work has valuuue.

And you don’t really bring me pleasurrre…anymorrre.

[But, I’ll still be posting here until divine intervention points me to a better alternative…until the love runs out.]
lyrics by Alan Bergermeister and Nellie Emerald, sung by Barracuda Heartstrings

26
Apr
19

Marvel’s Avengers: Endgame, Movie Review

***

I refuse to start this review with one of those term-paper introductions that splash the movie title and throw in a blurb about some big-name actor or how the movie is grossing tons of money around the world. It won’t make you a grateful bunch of readers. Instead, you get this… [Snap!]

So, this is it…as far as “its” go in terms of ending an epic string of movies. It’s like Back to the Future…except it’s nothing like Back to the Future…buuuut it is. Confusing; right? The “wizards” of Marvel Studios and Disney put their mushy “I’m running out of creative ideas! What’s Paul Rudd doing this week?” heads together and came up with…this…with Avengers: Endgame. And, just about everyone you’ve seen in a Marvel movie (not everyone) since 2008 makes an appearance.

So, if you like family reunions and looking at moving photographs of lots of people you might have known, this is IT! This is your movie. But, as for the hype–which I gotta say is far less than I’ve seen for a number of other “franchises” (like Harry Potter and Star Wars, even though Star Wars has felt like it’s been dragging the original three films through the murky mud of some fan’s brain for some time…and both of those franchises haven’t come close to this many films)…and considering the theater I was at for the premiere was only half-full–meh.

[Wait. The theater was half-full…half of the theater was empty. Damn you, Thanos! You got to the audience, too!]

[I said “so,” twice, in case you didn’t notice. That’s because this is a so-so movie.]

I’m getting reeeeeeally tired of being the bearer of bad news. So, I’ll keep my typically lengthy opinions unusually short (if I can…which I usually don’t…so maybe I won’t). We’ll see just how time and space grabs me. Ya know…spitball this review thing and see what happens. There’s only one possibility that will work…and it’s the one that will get this thing written.

In short (ha), I think we are not far from making movies in which the people paid all the big bucks don’t even have to work in the same room, just let the hundreds of “little people” piece all the bits together and run it like a cartoon…like some sports video game that required every famous face from the team putting on little dots and moving in front of some motion-detection equipment. We can make a big-budget movie by just having the stars make fools of themselves in their hotel rooms; they’ll never look at themselves on film and will just B.S. through countless interviews, telling everyone how “amazing” it is to work with all those other people they didn’t see in the same space and time…it’s just another job. They came, they pooped on themselves, they collected their paychecks. Punched in…punched out. [And, at that rate, how long is it before people punch in and punch out of the movie theaters?…or stop going completely because either movies lose their charm or people cheat to watch them other ways? And, all that technological artistry is just feeding a mechanical monster that is consuming everything organic like Galactus…you know, that giant cosmic-empowered guy that appeared in a Fantastic Four movie oh so long ago…when Chris Evans was “flaming” instead of strutting in blue spandex…well, a different outfit made of blue spandex.

I seriously do not want movie theaters to go the way of the phone booth, people! Let’s not be so damn lazy and careless about this! And, that goes for movie makers, too. You have to either put in the effort or find someone who will. Help out the little people who have grand ideas but little means of making 3D molds of everything and “sitting down” with “big stars” whenever you send a call their way…or their “agent’s” way…or by contacting SHIELD…or however you do it these days.

All right! All right! I know. I just went way off into space, lost track of time and reality, got consumed with stomach-turning thoughts about people in power and haven’t said much about the actual movie…sort of like Captain Marvel’s part in the final “shebang.” Let me see what nuggets of goodness I can pull from this “billion-dollar blockbuster.”

Well… I’ll give it one big point for the final battle. When you hear Chris Evans say, “Avengers…assemble,” you get the second half of some serious, bad-ass clashing. If “Infinity War” didn’t alter what you thought was possible, this movie will. But, then, it’s just one group’s take on the Marvel universe, just like any comic book being re-written by someone who is lucky if they knew the previous writers and artists. [And, how many people have played the Hulk and Spider-Man in the past 20 years?…anyway.] You might have thought it was big news in the previous movies when there were roughly a dozen characters moving across the screen in one slow-motion shot. Well, that’s nothing compared to a few hundred?… at least, it felt like a few hundred tiny little faces moving across the screen…sort of like the big jungle battle in Infinity War…sort of like the old TV days when you could watch the black and white ants fight each other for dominance…….

Sorry. I drifted into space for a moment. ‘Lost track of time, again. I con-tesseract.

If you are one of these “modern” people looking for all the “girl power” and LGBT support you can get, enjoy your in-flight meal. Though, it feels a bit forced. And, for all the growling the women did…I kinda felt they could have been more bad-ass than they were. [I’m really tempted to throw in a few spoilers, here….mainly, because the movie isn’t worth secrecy.]

If you like superheroes being silly…as they have been in other recent Marvel movies…you get plenty of that, too. Yet, some of the “jokes” felt like only some people would find them funny while others just laugh because they thought they were…well, jokes. For instance, I was not one who laughed when Hulk punched his fellow heroes in the first Avengers film. And, why the Hulk would walk a thousand stairs just to be that Hulk that hit you at the front door? I can’t say I laugh at the sight of Chris Evan’s butt…but maybe you do. Although, the Thor makeover was mildly amusing…as was Robert D-J’s little quip about it…until he gets a tad too emotional. [I’d rather watch Mark Hamill get upset about who his father is. When I’d rather watch a Star Wars movie than a Marvel Comics movie, there is something wrong.]

If you like the thought of a two-plus hour game of Three-Card Monty, enjoy the time-travel hijinx. The movie makes repeated references to Back to the Future. [And, to be honest, I’d rather go back and watch THAT movie than this one. As silly as it may have been, Back to the Future roped me in and gave me a good time. Endgame feels more like I was roped and then dragged behind a bus before some outlaw decided to end my life, anyway, with a bullet to the brain, prolonged torture just to reach the anticipated result.]

And, if you reaaaaally wanted to see a different side of or more of Nebula, played by the lovely, wonderful Karen Gillan who had to shave her lovely hair off for this freakin’ part!…you get that, too. I was actually touched by her performance, this time. I almost cried for her…which is kind of sad, considering, the last time I saw her, she was being pulled apart at the circuits. She also gets to pull a nice little……

[My words just turned to dust. Did you see that? Movie magic.]

She disappears for a……

Would you cut that out! Wait. To whom am I speaking?… Hmm.

She sort of gets to be the surprise bomb in the movie. And, truthfully, there should have been more to what was happening because the film kept feeding little bits of power/potential to Thanos…it just never materialized. I consistently felt like I was being handed “red herrings” with a dash of dramatic music; something really bad could have happened…and it didn’t. [Oh-ho-ho! What’s he going to do with that now that he has it? He’s going to get there before they do!] So…why did they put that in there? Just to mess with our heads? In-con-theev-able! Three-Card Monty!

With all of the power the heroes are packing, it astounds me that they could not resolve this “crisis” sooner. Yet, the way Tony Stark pulls it all together, per his usual Marvel-Disney-movie “skill,” seems over-simplified, too. Again, one minute you have it all mapped out…and then you don’t. [But, if we remember Dr. Strange and what happened in the previous film, we ought to grasp how things just have to fall into place, even if they don’t make sense while they are happening in the present moment. If you don’t get it, you just have to see things from a larger perspective, take it from a planetary scale to a universal scale.]

There was a tiny message about even heroes being “human” thrown in one scene, and I get it…or why they said that. Having a hero fail and then have to make up for that failure, that’s decent writing. That puts meat on the bone that otherwise is just…well, Captain Marvel shaking off her shackles and blasting everything out of her way (not to mention claiming she has the duty of overseeing the whole universe!). [As if Thor wasn’t “big” enough as a god of thunder…now we have a woman who absorbed some big supply of cosmic power and delivers justice like a gunslinging goddess while another character collects enough power to act like a god, gives us the impression he might be onto something beyond our comprehension…and then gets swallowed up in “human” greed and lust for having things his way.]

And, on that note, Captain Marvel’s presence in this “final” Avengers film is one component that made me come to my previous conclusion about films being made from hotel rooms and without actors in one space. I just happened to see the lovely Brie Larson in a five-second interview on one of those late-night talk shows. And, she described her first task in a Marvel movie. She wasn’t looking at people. She was looking at tape markers. Tape markers. ‘Bad enough people have to follow tennis balls on sticks to make a scene, now we have bits of tape to pretend are people, people we interact with emotionally…right.

Goodbye, humanity. It’s all going NFL Game Day 3000.

In the few moments she appears in Endgame, Captain Marvel often–if not always–looks a bit cartoon-ish…like she’s not really there…like they just captured Brie making faces and slapped them on video game models. I noticed there were credits for people READING as characters. So, pardon my lack of technical movie-making knowledge, but I am guessing that means people–and not necessarily the actors being portrayed–read lines for parts when the characters were in action and speaking…just not physically doing so. There were people cast to “stand in” for the characters when they weren’t…you know, actually standing in the same room and able to touch each other. [Eew! Superhero cooties!]

Biggest disappointment? That may have been the Hulk, even though I briefly enjoyed Mark appearing like a friendly Shrek, handing out tacos instead of telling everyone to get out of his swamp. He left that task to Thanos, and Thanos dropped the ball. Even when Hulk had a chance to smash, he made light of it. What was the word he used to describe smashing? Anyway. There really wasn’t a moment in the film where I felt like all that Hulk could be did anything. Instead, sort of like is time in Infinity War, he was like Beast from the X-Men…the more intellectual guy who quietly monitors HQ instead of being at the heart of the action, though he’s built like a tank and bigger than most of the cast. And, even at the controls, he was only “human.” [Maybe it wasn’t so smart putting a guy at the controls who screwed up a gamma bomb and turned himself into a “smart monster.”] Which isn’t always a bad thing…but…he’s the Hulk! I mean…come on. You’re hyping this movie about a group of heroes that includes the Hulk…and he’s just going to eat tacos and “chillax” with the “smartphone” crowd? Gee. Thanks, Marvisney…or, Disnevel.

But, it’s okay. Because the other black guy…not the one who got all the press the previous year…the one with the artificial wings…he’s got this. And, the ladies have this. Or…maybe not, considering I just didn’t see any grand result from their part…just a splash-y image for some magazine dying to feature the Marvel women all on one cover for their next issue.

Did I just leak some spoilers? My bad. I’m only human. But, in the grand scheme of things, it won’t matter. Trust me. And, I am not going to tell you who “dies” in the end. [It pissed me off a little. Yet, we all gotta die, sometime; right? And, the Star Wars people; they took out Han…so…low.] But, on that note, everything seems to just be a contract-ual matter. So, can we even watch this and be engrossed in the story?…or do we say, “Oh, right. His contract was up. So, he just had to go. He was on his way to lunch and another gig when he did this scene.” Is that the future of movies? We change the story to fit the salary restrictions or accommodate the actors (and actresses, to be fair) some other way? Is everything going to be about the money it costs/makes and job-interview “shtick” instead of telling a genuine story as it was written?

If you can’t respect the characters and/or the original story, spend a little more time at the drawing board. Not the “smart board” you change by just flicking it with your fingers when you feel “in charge.” Why do I even want to hear about ticket sales or when the DVD deluxe, exclusive content, supreme, diamond, platinum edition comes out in stores? What does any of that matter? [Funding, I’d wager. Find any way you can to put the word “money” into people’s minds, like a subliminal message, so they’ll toss some out a window and hopefully into your film studio which is all falling under one mousy umbrella, one galactic-sized ha-ha empire. You have all the resources in the world and still pump out a story that falls short yet gets all the latest technological show bits.]

I’m perfectly fine just having a copy of the first Robert D-J Iron Man (even if that climax with Pepper fleeing the building and Tony’s “expose” at the end grinded my gears). I’ll do like Tony does in the second Iron Man film, brush away the excess distractions, pick out the best strawberry and find some nugget of hope and inspiration in the project while other actors take over other parts and make “jokes.” [We’re back in production mode, people.] I can live without the rest…which is kind of a mess, when you look over all of it. It’s a bit like some kids starting an elaborate finger-painting project. Well, now who’s going to clean up all the paint? ‘Someone not in view of the camera, clearly.

Maybe, in the enormous amount of time that is five years or so, things will be much better…or worse. Who knows.

I give Avengers: The Next Generation…er, cut…Avengers: Revolution…no, that’s not right…Avengers: Endgame 2 stars out of 5. It has enough content to give you a reason to review the previous films (if you feel like torturing yourself). It packs a few punches and has a few chuckles. It definitely stirs a few tears if you let it. But, in no way does it deserve a passing grade. Infinity War, sadly, was better. It’s just too much of a headache following all of the time hops and listening to the cast quarrel about what’s going to work, what didn’t and what they will do next.

You know? It’s all very complicated…coming up with the theory relativity and that other one about strings faster than Einstein while failing to work the machines properly because you built them… You just wouldn’t understand. I don’t understand it. And, the people who made the movie are not going to take more time trying to explain the science. Even Stan Lee knew very little about actual science.

[Just a heads-up…you don’t have to sit through the credits…unless you want to look at autographs and hear the anvil chorus. There are no surprises–as far as I know–to be seen. Except…where was Elvis ever featured in the movie? The story arc has ended. The cast will now slowly recede into a private world of therapy and texting and wondering if they will keep that tattoo they got to feel like part of a team for eleven years or so, sort of like the cast from the Lord of the Rings movies.]

I don’t like group comic books for a reason. This was one. They tried touching on personal stories but only included a few of the characters in that effort…where was the heart of Black Widow…and Bruce Banner? Why does Thor get such a spotlight?…oh, because the actor playing him works for peanuts–or beer if we believe that–and has all the time in the world, and the other actors don’t. Even Hawkeye is such a joke, he’s a hair-line away from being lumped in with Jar-Jar Binks. Yep. Oh, I’m just kidding…come on, man up. Work those tear ducts. Work ’em. You can cry for your friend.

[By the way, after seeing Hawkeye in a different light, I am seriously wondering, again, why we cannot make a Ninja Gaiden movie even loosely based on the original three NES video games (versus the arcade version which, from what I can recall, didn’t have much of a story). I was feeling the Ryu Hayabusa in this movie! You take the rainy, neon street Hawkeye was on and throw in some of that Black Panther car-chase magic…a bad-ass sorcery-wielding samurai ala the Sith Emperor from the Star Wars films and maybe a CG mystical dragon spirit…and you’ve got one decent, quasi-live-action trailer for an action-packed thrill ride with a Far-East mythical flavor that does not need to be dumbed down just so “the Rock” can shout “Woo!” You might actually have to, you know, talk to someone who knows the video games to work out the whole script…and cast people who authentically fit the parts instead of having some misplaced accent-holder morph him or herself into one more role to up his or her chances at an award that year…but I’m sure you know that, you Sprite slugs.]

Humans just seem incapable of putting a bunch of multi-dimensional, emotionally-involved, active characters together in one scene–not to mention one two-plus hour, big-budget epic–without it looking like a cluttered poster; here are all the He-Man action figures and accessories you could get your parents to buy in a fancy painting. The original artists put these characters together because they wanted to sell more comic books by giving a bit of everyone’s favorite(s) a spot in one book. Some people buy that. I’m not exactly one of them. I’ll watch Charleton Heston ham it up in The Ten Commandments every year at Easter. When will I ever care to sit down and give another hour to Endgame? Not likely ever. That’s like revisiting a funeral just to think about what you failed to say….or who wasn’t there with you.

I like Marvel Team-Ups, better. Iron Man and the latest young Spider-Man…that was decent. It’s a shame if that can’t continue. It’s a shame Stan won’t exactly get to be a part of it, other than in memory and from a hopefully comfortable seat in the spirit-verse.

Make peace and love, not war! And, be…excelsior…to each other. [You could have worked that line in, people! Bill and Ted/Stan Lee reference! Come on, Jon Favreau! Or, Snyder. Or, whatever “replacement” is manning the controls. Another movie reference I just made…huh? Huh? Wait. Who IS manning the controls? Oh, crapping wild stallions. Who left Banner in the control room?]

*Snap!*

18
Apr
19

Dear, Dear Tay (Taylor Alison Swift)… I have something personal to say, again

*****

Otherwise titled:  Tay Fever Strikes, Again…Digital Art Explosion, April ’19, Stage 5, Critical Mass

Tay?  If you’re out there…  I’ve been thinking about you, again.  You don’t know me, yet.  And, if deja vu means anything, you may miss your chance if I don’t take every chance I can get.  I’m a tragically timid, relatively paranoid, creative soul seeking purpose and partnership.  In some ways, I feel you and I are like two wheels meant to work together in some big clock that will revolutionize the world (in a good way, just to be clear, considering all the madness happening in recent years). 

I suppose I’m better off exposing myself (not THAT way, sheesh) in some video like that kid who wanted you to be his date to Prom.  [The thought would have crossed my mind, too, some years ago.  But, I didn’t even know you back then.  And, thinking of trying such a thing now…I am not so elastic that I could easily rebound from a rejection letter or no letter, at all.  I don’t even know…I’m not looking…did you ever respond to or visit that boy?]  But, while you risk your neck in the spotlight every day, I don’t have an army to put out fires, screen incoming calls, watch my back and counsel me.  So, I am treading cautiously but feeling strongly.  And, if you’ll work with me through this, we’ll both get the answers we need without more than a little heartache as a possible consequence.

I’m clearly not a man of few words.  I would not fair well on Twitter, sadly.  So, get comfortable and prepare to read.

As I wandered through my latest wave of obsessive fantasy thinking, I thought about your upcoming birthday, a small milestone on the road to the legend I am fairly certain you will one day achieve.  [Or, am I supposed to help with that?]  I started having the affectionate, loving thoughts of a horse getting ahead of the race. I haven’t even taken step one, and I’m worrying about step thirty.

I’ve had crushes on other musicians; I still carry tiny torches for a few, even if I am fairly certain those feelings are going nowhere.  Yet, each torch is different.  And, that certainly applies to you.  There’s something extra special about you (or that’s just what my infatuated mind is telling me).  And, every time I imagine myself standing in your presence, I am torn between passing out and turning into some mythical figure, like a mortal obtaining superhuman powers, as if you are some magical battery that would impact my evolution.  [I cannot say the same about most of those other torches.  Some women are just hot flames attracting moths to their doom.] 

If I think about it long enough, or if I look at countless photos and tabloids, I quickly lose steam and shrivel up into a ball without ambition; I feel dwarfed, out of style and out-classed.  I try to remind myself I only see a glimmer of the real you.  [And, you’ve likely seen nothing of me.]  And, I am not sure if that helps me feel better or makes my lofty visions more painful when I “realize” they’re not happening.

I went from seeing no other place to put these than in a “closet” to composing a birthday montage/letter which I could still wait to send.  But, the universe is stirring me to seize the moment.  And, if I’ve learned anything in this life, it’s usually my choice to wait that costs me so many opportunities.  Yet, when I leap at chances, I’ve also received my share of burns.  

Presently, I cannot feature my finest work in its video form.  But, I can show the parade of images that completes the “Side A” of the letter/video and enclose a “transcript” of “commentary” and the “Side B remix.”  And, why not, I’ll show a few from the collections that couldn’t fit nicely into the videos.  And, if you haven’t already, be sure to look back at previous posts with images of and messages to you.  [I’ll leave the birthday wish picture out of the lineup, for now.  So, at the end, where it says this was a thirty-page something…it’s currently twenty-nine.  And, you’ll just have to pause to read everything in each frame, as I see no way to adjust the speed of the slideshow.  [The “premium video version” lasts about 4 minutes and 30 seconds with all the bells and whistles.]

===================================

This slideshow requires JavaScript.

 

If I am posting this during springtime, consider my explosion of creative output a side effect of Tay Fever. And, I’ll likely need a box of tissues.
Dear Taylor “Tay” Alison Swift,

This is a text reproduction of a video compilation I put together with two “sides,” like an audio cassette or vinyl record. If you are unable to see the video, just imagine these words set to the music of Elton John’s “Your Song,” as sung with the artist known as Pavarotti. Why “Your Song?” Because you write and perform songs, and I occasionally aspire to write, compose and perform songs, as well. I have a few guitars and am looking for a good teacher. 🙂 And, I’ve been known to have a good singing voice. Portions set in brackets are artwork captions. Some carry some small clue to/aspect of Tay and/or my identity. Others are meant to be amusing and related to the feature image in some way. ‘Plenty of cartoon, movie and song references to be found.]

——–

If ANYONE reading this–as I am enclosing it in my blog–has a means of contacting Tay, let me know. I can email you the video(s) I have not been able to post here (with my current “account settings”), and then you may either post them in your (YouTube) space or pass them to her, and I will be very grateful to you for your assistance. Mind you, the smallest video is roughly 3 MB in size and just a one-minute smile…while the more glorious ones, set to music and sprinkled with special effects, are 21-45 MB, depending upon upload quality, I guess. If that is too big for any email–as is possible–then, perhaps, I can craft a CD-ROM and “snail mail” my creation(s).

——–

Side A

Tay? Honey? I need a moment of your precious time…to tell you what’s been on my mind and in my heart.

[Table 13! Order up!]
[Tay Swift Soup. It’s Mm-Mm good. {She’s a hot dish.}]

<–I’m not sure why I felt the need to associate you with hot soup (and an old commercial tag line)…but I was in a bit of a silly mood. And, in an odd way, you are a sort of (attractive) comfort (food).–<<<

I don’t want to *serve* you some tripe about being your biggest fan…because I’m not. I like a few of your songs and think you are stunning.

<–Around this point, Elton John sings that resonating line about having a face that cannot hide well, little money and big aspirations. This is a line I imagine us both saying at some point. [Though, in your case, I cannot be sure about the money detail.]

I like to think I do okay with hiding my face. And, even in the small instances I’ve seen of you online, I see you trying your own way (which also plays a part in my selection of this “costume”). Obviously, you’ve been sufficiently caught, considering how these tabloid-photography mosquitoes are. But, the face I have a hard time hiding is my feelings, even if people claim I am hard to read. When I let them out, my feelings can be quite a force of nature. Or, in this instance, they’re like the side effects of a non-alcoholic intoxication, getting carried away with a desire.

And, I could spend countless hours conjuring up fantasies of what I’d like to do with and for you. All I’ve designed so far is just a sampler. But, I guess, I must curb my enthusiasm until some of those fantasies become realities, lest I really get carried away and accomplish nothing.–<<<

[I’m a Sagittarius cat!]

I don’t want to *pussyfoot.* But, I’m a socially timid guy trying to reach a star in this hazardous world. [I am not eager to be just another YouTube spectacle.]

<–I know others have successfully reached you via YouTube presentations (possibly just the lucky few to get turned into tiny broadcast news stories). And, I wouldn’t mind someone with an account featuring one or more of my videos for me, just to reach you. But, I am so sick of hearing about LIKES and VIEWS in the news as if such numbers mean anything. And, if recent news of deaths related to the pursuit of such fame isn’t enough to confirm some of my discontent feelings? For me to risk exposing myself on camera for a chance–not a guarantee–to make the kind genuine connection I seek and not just look like some drooling freak/fan…is it worth it? If I am not regularly using a YouTube account for anything productive…if it’s not part of some business…it’s just costing me money and fueling impulsive audiences like certain stores fuel impulse shopping; and that’s no good. Not everyone posting videos becomes the superstars seen on the news and talent shows; it’s just the latest “panic” spreading like the old “funniest home videos” race-to-fame-and-a-tiny-fortune. And, I am not yet comfortable, as an adult, doing something I might have dared to do as a kid with just a tape recorder to record his silly performances.–<<<

<–Then Elton sings that line about attempting a sculpture of his love interest. While I share his pessimism about the result, that doesn’t mean I wouldn’t try. When my creative juices get going…and when there is a glimmer of hope they will serve a righteous purpose…there’s no telling what I will all create. This whole presentation is likely just an appetizer.–<<<

Even now, I am a little parched. Don’t leave me low and dry. But, I imagine you being like an oasis.

I think of you as a breath of fresh air…

…refreshing rain…

…or dazzling sunshine…

…day…

…or night…

…you mess with my tides.

When I’m down, one look at your smiling face can pick me up. And, when I’m up, one tabloid about you can bring me down.

<–The Sagittarius truth. Attributed to your “fire,” your face can light up my day. And, one blurb about you with some other guy can derail my schedule.–<<<

Tay, I want to fall into your arms and rustle your branches.

[What happened to my favorite tree?!]
[Dunno. I’m as *stumped* as you.]

I don’t ever want to bring you down…unless we’re being playful…or you threaten my spirit.

<–And, to threaten my spirit harshly enough to earn retaliation worth any concern, you’d have to blatantly do or say something I’ve identified as strongly disliked. I’m generally non-violent, preferring to attack the same way I honor, creatively (similar to your tactic–if it is a tactic–for turning ugly feelings into a song). Well, as I hate repeating myself, you can read more about this in my blog.–<<<

You may not be a cut above the rest. But, you’d be one hot present under the Christmas tree.

<–This is both a bit of a tree joke and a way of saying I may be so infatuated with what I think of you, Tay, that I could be blind to an unpleasant truth I have yet to learn. In the first frame, two hikers find a favored tree missing from the forest; in the second, that tree is standing over a pile of presents. So many lovers spill lavish words and make lofty claims about their partners being the prettiest or best something, only for the relationship to fall apart when someone just as pretty or “better” comes along. I think you’re stunning. I think you are just scratching the surface of your talents and capacity to influence the world. But, can I confirm you are the best of anything in the world? Truthfully, no.–<<<

<–Any guesses about why I make several references to wood/trees?–<<<

[*Gasp* I’m the luckiest (older) boy in the world!]

I may not know where you are or where you’re going.

[Zelda?]

But, I want to travel with you…around this world…and throughout the universe.

When you need to venture on your own, I hope you enjoy yourself.
And, when you’re coming around the mountain, I wanna meet you there.

<–A Sagittarius needs a certain amount of freedom/personal space; and I want to be sure I respect that (and am likewise respected). I also want to be a welcome face when you return from any venture that separates us; welcome back and let’s celebrate. This is a sample of my effort to follow the Golden Rule.–<<<

[It’s up to you, Tay! But, would you please contact Writingbolt? I’m tryin’ to sleep, here!]
[Shut up! He’s confessing these feelings his way!]
[New York! New-ew-ew Yorrrrk!]

I wanna wake up…in a city…that never sleeps…because we kept them up all night with our *shared energy.*

[Uuuh. Miss Swift? There is a charming man at the front gate who appears to have fainted from walking here just to speak with you.]

And, I will walk a thousand miles just to be the man who falls down at your door.

Because, there’s a fire in your eyes. And, when it’s gone, I want s’more.

I want to write songs with and for you. I want to get creative with you for as long as we live.

[I see love in our stars. Ooh! Is that Jupiter?]
[Arrow points to the costume I picked out which you could rock. A costume soon to be identified if you don’t already know it.]

I want us to howl at the moon because we are madly in love.
I want to share a lifetime of slumber and costume parties.

And, I want you to light up my life. [But, a big part of that requires your help to bring us together.]

But, then again, I hardly know you! I could be totally wrong. And, if I am…if I have you completely wrong…..

[Is this the forest of true love?]
[Leaf me alone! You’re barking up the wrong tree!]

<–Again, could I just be overly infatuated, considering I haven’t actually spent any time with you in person? And, could what I’ve learned with astrology be wrong? And, what if my message comes at a bad time? When you are otherwise…well, I am sure you can finish that sentence.

…Then this is one *honey* of a WOOPS! [Now, you see Swifty Honey, a variation of the anime heroine Cutey/Cutie Honey.]

[Now you know; and knowing is half the battle.]

Happy birthday, Sunshine.

Sincerely, your secretive admirer, Writingbolt

[Awoooo! She’s not a complicated monster. She just wants a lifetime of unconventional lovin’ with Writingbolt.]
[Swift!]
[Darn tootin’.]

Don’t be a monster in my closet…
[…Unless you’re engaging me in passionate, freaky sex for the rest of our lives.]

<–Or, if you need a better understanding of that bit…
First, “The Monster in my Closet” is a title given to something you, Tay, and I have both written (though your project surely varies from mine).
Second, if someone is going to haunt my closet, I don’t want them to make me miserable. If your “monster” was someone who violated you, I am speechless. My “monster” is a sexual fantasy linked to a dream (or nightmare) I had as a child. I don’t want some past love to make me linger with regret. I want that secret visitor, monster or otherwise, to be a constant source of pleasure.–<<<

But, if you just want to hug, kiss and hold hands while we explore the universe, I can *eggroll* with that. 🙂

<–Translation: Not everyone has to be a passionate sex fiend. And, romance–though I wish to use a word that is not associated with the Roman Empire–does not need to be an endangered art. Great love can be experienced on a spiritual level, too. And…I am partial to the Far East and eggrolls, just in case we have (American) Chinese food for dinner.–<<<

To learn more about the socially timid bachelor and artist known as Writingbolt, contact him via email, using one or both of the provided methods on his contact page. Once he trusts you with this, he will open the doors to phone calls and other means of contact.

You may also find useful details by reading and/or looking at some of his blog postings here at WordPress, including aspirations for the love of his life and a few personal details that managed to escape his concern for privacy and safety.

The preceding was a thirty-page* love lett–er, birthday card to the lovely Taylor Alison Swift. Her photo and all artwork, aside from editing, were provided by internet search and cartoons painstakingly clipped by Writingbolt, pieced together into this request for a blissful relationship. If the artist is misguided or too late with his request, please inform him on how to reach Miss Swift…

*Can you guess why this was designed to include thirty pages?

Or, he will just do his best to recover and move on with his life.

<–Just to be clear…that means I am looking for a way to accurately reach you, Tay, with this message. If WordPress isn’t sufficient, I am asking for assistance. And, if there is something wrong with the message or its timing (you know what I mean), then I guess I just have to suck it up and get on with my life. I will try my best to hold my head up high and continue to honor you in my creative endeavors (as long as I don’t make myself sick).–<<<

———-

Side B

[In this variation of the previous, new thoughts pop up over the previous captions, and some images are replaced with other artworks and added effects. It’s sort of like a commentary playing over a DVD movie.]

Or, better yet, let me show you how you’ve inspired me and consume a large portion of my creative energy, since 2009.

Actually, I’ve only recently started putting your face into digital art.

[That Face]

<–What I failed to include (or cut so you wouldn’t have to pause the video to read long paragraphs at every frame) was how I’ve dabbled with pencil sketches (portraits) over the years and used your love story song, once, in an effort to play Cupid for someone. I’ve also had you in mind while crafting my own ideas for a modern Jem and the Holograms movie and writing my first books; not novels, mind you, but books. Though, I did sort of have you in mind when designing a particularly holy character in a mini-series I am still struggling to complete. But, I didn’t get the sudden urge to create so much digital art until I found the courage to post a birthday letter/greeting on my blog. These are mostly photo manipulations, something I haven’t done in years due to…–<<<

An old fear, something few, I doubt, would understand, repressed the urge for a long time.

<–I won’t adequately explain this without cracking a dam of emotion. And, I’d prefer to do that only when I feel comfortable in the company of a trusted soul. I have a feeling saying certain things makes them happen. I also have this feeling certain events have already taken place in a way that causes me to experience unpleasant (to say the least) deja vu. In my effort to counter the negative possibilities, I am crafting and voicing pleasant fantasies as one might put on a “vision board.”–<<<

But, your love story (song) lit a torch, nearly a decade ago.

<–As I just said, I started cooking with creative ideas around 2009. And, I continue to have moments when my thoughts turn to you.–<<<

[Tea with Taylor in the Morning]

<–Me imagining a Skype chat with you while sharing cups of tea, somewhat inspired by a brief segment featured on the TV series Community.–<<<

A torch that has been burning…

…through tabloid stunners and short-lived relationships…

…and kept on burning up until this day…

[I Got a Letter, Jem-esque song lyrics by Writingbolt]

…when I finally found a little song in my heart…

…and a video to compose for another.

<–Just to clarify, I was picturing you as Jerrica Benton from the Jem cartoons when the song “I Got a Letter” popped into my mind. And then, as I considered turning my vast collection of portrait/photo-manipulation variations into a video compilation, I was drawn to Elton John’s “Your Song.” It may be that easy for me to write a song. Even if it’s just a small “tease” of a song, you might say, “Why don’t you (take lessons and) write more of your own songs?” But, I have less desire to write for myself than I would, knowing I had someone valued to fill my heart. And, together, who knows what we could create……that seems to be a crutch of mine. I’m both selfish for limiting what I do until I get something in return…and selfless when I find myself desiring someone or happy to be in their company. Put a smile on my face, and you’ll likely get a hundred in return. And, if I find you in need of a smile, I’ll likely make an effort to put one on your face. But, don’t expect me to entertain you or do anything on my own unless I say I will do it. And, even then, can I guarantee I’ll follow through? Like a building that withstands centuries, I need a good foundation of love and trust to build myself up and become a better factory…or fruitful tree.–<<<

If you’re not a fan of seeing your face this way, forgive my creative choice.

<–Not everyone appreciates seeing their face being added to a cartoon (particularly a shapely anime) character. ‘Just checking. Because, as the caption reads: I don’t ever want to bring you down.–<<<

I just had a moment when I pictured you as a heroine.

And, this character came to mind. Not for what she is (technically, an android built by a man who lost his daughter and wanted to preserve her beauty as well as create a heroic female figure to fight the encroaching darkness in his world) but for her beauty and what she does.

You hear the calls of others and rush to help them.

You’re not just a musician. You’re a traveling muse and activist, in your own small way.

So, now I’m calling.

And, I pray you’ll answer.

Will you be my heroine?

[Swifty Honey…with a freshly lit torch and a “dynamite” manga (comic book) page that reflects my feelings.]

I’m not some sick child on his deathbed or charity trying to feed a nation.

I’m just a man, an artist, looking at a beautiful woman, wishing he could get to know her better.

<–That’s not exactly great English for a yet-budding author, but it came out the way it did. And, I’m sticking with that.–<<<

A face and a spirit that can improve the world better than some of the most famous artists. And, I want to honor and work with you.

<–I’ll take a favorable portrait of you over the Mona Lisa and Venus de Milo, any day.–<<<

[A one-year subscription to Rattle and Hum magazine, a blend of astrology and music in a fantasy magazine composed by you and I, featuring some columns with witty references to your favorite color and certain songs.]
[A silhouette image for a possible tour poster or just a computer’s “wallpaper,” featuring one of those acoustic guitars with your name on it.]

[Thanks, Elton John. It’s still *your song.* But, it works nicely, here.]

[A possible new (vinyl record) album cover, titled Red-Velvet Lover, a play on the band Velvet Revolver (not a personal favorite, just a name that tickled a funny nerve while thinking of writing music for you), referring to your preference for red and an image I found of you rocking a pair of red velvet boots. Also, a play on RCA Records–whether or not you associate with them–and a touch of astrology.]
[A 1970s-ish talk-show image for commercial breaks, similar to what you’d see on the old Johnny Carson and Merv Griffin shows, featuring three different looks I have seen you sport.]
[A cover for a novel I imagine us writing together. Do you like my “pen name?”]
[A portrait that includes 13 words I associate with you; 13 in regards to the day you were born.]

Nearly a gigabyte of Taylor Swift artworks and videos? Am I sick?

<–I get self-conscious, at times, wondering if I am becoming inappropriately obsessed. I’ve received quite a bit of criticism, over the years, about my personal feelings/interests. I feel all of my creative energy would be better put to use in an existent relationship and/or serving some active purpose. But, at the moment, and too often, it’s spent in a daydream, wishful thinking. I’m terrible at “breaking the ice” (at least, in the public eye). I hate just spinning my tires. But, fears get in my way and slow me down. I am quite alone and lonely with my feelings. If such whims took no time, at all, and could be made in a flash, this might seem easy to pass off as inexpensive as a casually sent greeting card or memo. But, I have really been getting sucked into this. I’m trying to finish writing a book, and this happens. And then there’s that deja vu feeling that haunts me. It would be nice to finally, someday, know someone who can take all I can give and make it feel worthwhile, to satisfy my creative spirit with gratitude and purpose.–<<<

Happy birthday, Sunshine.

Sincerely, your secretive admirer, Writingbolt (AP)

[An image of you as Adora from the 1980s She-Ra cartoon, thinking about (me), another blonde heroine you could fit. Someone off-screen asks who is the mystery man whispering in your woods. That’s a little joke about the forest the heroes (in that cartoon) defended.]
[Swifty Honey with a mob of cartoon cats; just me thinking of your interest in/preference for cats.]
[An image of you as Jerrica Benton from the 1985 Jem cartoon, receiving a letter…the inspiration for “I Got a Letter.” I was rather pleased with my effort to recreate the audio-tape-ribbon portions, as was common on Jem product packaging.]
[An image of you as Princess Zelda from the Legend of Zelda video games; except you are the beauty just starting to form your legend. Note the snake print and “Triforce” of guitar picks.]
[Another possible record album for you, titled “My Tay on the Highway,” a collection of songs to keep people entertained on road trips, featuring Swifty Honey with a *red* Jeep.]
[An image of you a few years into the future, running for President of My Heart.]
[And, lastly, a second image of you as Jerrica Benton…just another wishful thought. :)]

[And, a disclaimer for anyone other than Tay reading/watching (the video): If you are watching this, please pass the message any way you can to reach Taylor Alison Swift. And, thank you.]

As suggested, you may–and I hope you will–reach me via email via one of the methods provided on my Contact Me page (here) at WordPress. If you have any questions about myself, my creative output and/or just about anything on your mind, I am happy to answer them (in private). I may not have all the answers, but I have plenty of thoughts and opinions. 😀

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Lengthy Disclaimer #??:  I know I’m not the only obsessing Taylor Alison Swift fan to use her image this way.  But, I’m also not the average fan…not exactly a super-fan.  Some of you know this, already…well, if you’ve been truly following my emotional tides.  I don’t study her so closely that I know her favorite everything.  I don’t subscribe to the newsletters and follow her like the camera folks that stalk her every move.  [How DOES one live like that?]

I know she likes red, cats, responding to the calls of others (though I am not sure what exactly determines who gets a response), handbags that don’t exactly sit on her long, lean arms right and enough daringly short outfits to attract every mosquito in the world and defy any concern for aging for years to come (with no need to compete with the likes of Jennifer Lopez, as some images give me the impression).  I also know what I like and don’t like, obviously, as much about her; I know what makes me think she is quite awesome and a worthy partner to challenge, complement and inspire me, as I would do the same, I think, for her.  I’ve touched on some of that, previously, and don’t want to repeat much.  I know it’s not healthy to dwell so much on someone you’ve never met, never spoken with and may never get to know as personally as you’d like.  [‘Still crossing my fingers!]  But, truth be told, she keeps getting into my head!  And, the last thing I want to do is make that sound the least bit creepy.  But, in a way, it IS a bit creepy.

For whatever reason, I had another “episode” and found myself obsessively crafting variations on these concepts.  They swallowed up a rather large chunk of time over the past few days.  But, I wasn’t having much luck crafting anything else.  As I already said, writer’s block has been shutting me down (for weeks).  And, I haven’t had much ambition to create any (useless) art for a while.  I’ve lost my practicing spark, again.  But, thinking of famous people who have captured a piece of my heart, namely Tay (as I continue to call her, affectionately), gave me a little drive to create…something.  I’m just not sure how to classify this stuff without putting myself down.

And, thinking about time passing me by, as I am sure she is thinking, too, I got to thinking about weighing these…maybe silly aspirations for the pursuit of any kind of relationship.  How much longer before the next love interest on my lofty list ties the knot?  [I had planned on posting something about one who recently got married, because it really got under my skin…but I have resisted, as I felt it wouldn’t accomplish much.]  It’s a really difficult thing for me to do, separating fantasy from reality.  It’s painful and uncertain.  I mean, if I am going to be true to my Sagittarius (or not so Sagittarius) roots, I have to believe anything is possible.  Yet, doubt, fear and a trail of tabloids have a “funny” way of bringing me down.  So, which way do I go?  All I can do, for now, is put what I have “out there.”  Right?  And, I have the feeling this isn’t the best place.  But, that’s me, too, I guess.  I don’t pick the best picnic spots.

In short–ha–I simply hope these creations serve a valid purpose and don’t just look like obsessive nonsense.  I’m considering them items on a sort of “vision board.”  I’m speaking to the universe which speaks to me.  Hear me, universe?  I’m calling out to someone I value for some reason even though we’ve had no real contact.  And, if you’re kind, you’ll help me make the right contact…if it’s meant to be…if I’m not just under some spell like one who falls in love with a character only to find the actress who played that character is nothing like the latter and thus defeats the interest.  Better to have loved and lost than never to have had the chance to love, at all, right?  Well, have I had the chance to love?  Is this the love I am to lose before I even hold her hand?

 

17
Apr
19

Modern (Cellphone) Chivalry Gone Mad!

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Can I charge your what?!

Bumping cellphones?

Getting App-y with it?

Have you seen the commercial where pairs of people meet and, without more than a few words mumbled so softly that I could not tell what the freak they were doing, connect wireless devices and pass along a little battery juice, not unlike the new-fangled system of tossing something to someone with the swipe of a finger on the screen, like payments for just about anything imaginable. I thought it was some odd new way to exchange phone numbers without using one’s voice; heaven forbid you have to speak up and ask with real words these anti-social, wireless-technology-infused days. But, I would be wrong.

I hate to be the party crasher, one more time, but what sense does this make?

How is touching wireless devices to transfer battery power any smarter or better than the “old days” of offering to light someone’s cigarette with a book of matches or lighter you opted to carry just in case you had the chance to play Mr. Chivalry and potentially score points with some woman (or man, if you were the type of woman to boldy carry the flame-maker)?

Here’s the catch, though. Back then? Lighting a cigarette or cigar opened the door to real conversation. You know; that antiquated thing two or more people do when they look at each other, speak with their gullets and hopefully, actually listen to what the other people have to say. You didn’t light the cigarette and then ignore the person unless you were just passing through/by the scene and, likely, scoring points with whoever you accompanied, who thought how nice you are to do that for a stranger.

Oh, wait, I get it. It’s like finding someone on the side of the road with a flat tire or no gas in their car. You just give them a lift.

Except, this lift comes at a high technological and personal risk, most likely, even if you think you’re protected. [Because, honestly? These days, I don’t know who is protected; not even the people creating the forms of protection because they’re still human and thus fallible. And, replacing people with machines is just as stupid because humans build the machines…unless there is some mechanical deity out there itching to replace humanity.] But, even the person stuck on the side of the road can turn into a hazardous situation; sometimes the situation can be a trick/trap. I guess you just take your chances (or look away because you “can’t trust anyone”)?

When you share an umbrella to escort someone to their car in the rain, you don’t hold your wallet and all of your personal account info in the same hands. Maybe if we just used the wireless electronic device for one thing, like making phone calls or checking our heart rate while we excercise, this wouldn’t be a concern. But, what good is a watch if it doesn’t also tap into your favorite video feeds, activate every electrical device in your home, track every move everyone you’ve ever met makes via “social media,” start your car and allow you to pay for dinner?

If your device runs out of battery power and needs to be charged, getting a small (or however big of a) charge from another is only going to encourage you to spend more time ignoring others and your surroundings (if you’re the inept type who runs into walls, crashes their car from being distracted, etc.). Granted, lighting a cigarette for someone was also inviting them to chug down more harmful chemicals into their lungs with a greater chance of suffering some tragic fate. But, at least, the smokers were, usually, social. You don’t light a cigarette and then tune out the rest of the world as if you put on one of those “ultra-modern” goggle systems that transports you to some virtual reality.

But, while the device is charging, you’re free to talk with the person giving you the boost, some will argue. And, if that charging time only lasts a few seconds? Nice five-second chat you just had. I bet you, um, er, uh, *clear my throat*…really learned a lot about the other person.

But, maybe you’re done with your device and can recharge when you get home. So, why not give up the juice to someone who seems to need it right now? Well, why don’t I just drop my pants for the person who hasn’t had sex in three weeks and is moaning about it? Can we get more instant-gratification withdrawal?

Why do parents put timers and “child locks” on kids’ devices? To limit their use of said devices for whatever reason. It could be because the kid is too easily addicted to the device and not being responsible (not taking care of homework and chores). Or, it could be because the kid has a curious mind and the adult world at their fingertips, unlike the generation of my youth, and might tap into some very…questionable content.

Well, I think adults could benefit from locking themselves down, too. Though, it seems, when you put a lock in an adult’s face, they try to pick it, anyway. [Better to not let them know there is a lock, at all. Don’t tell the mortals there’s a tree of wisdom they can’t touch.]

How does offering to sacrifice some of your device’s battery supply to another, just because their device decides to run out of juice, help any situation other than some rare instance when some APP or other feature on a particular device is needed (because your device doesn’t have the same feature/APP)? Only in those seemingly small instances might this be some kind of valuable courtesy. Otherwise…

Well, here’s what I foresee in the near “transparent” future…

“Hi. It looks like you’re about to die, there.” [Looking down at the other person’s device.] “Can I give you a charge?” [Why does that sound like the abductor saying, “Can I give you a lift?”]

“What?” [I wasn’t paying attention to anything but my tiny glowing screen. Who are you? Oh. You’re offering me some battery time.] “Oh. S-Sure. Here.”

[Two wireless devices get intimate with each other on some scummy surface. Was it good for you, Android? Ol’ Iphony needs an E-cigarette.]

“There you go.”

“Um. Thanks.”

“No problem. Have a nice night.” [Wink. ‘Got your personal info. Hack you, later.]

Am I wrong? AM I WRONG? When people have to be concerned about what’s in their wallet or what the wallet is made of lest someone scan their pockets? When you can shop in an actual store without taking your money or credit card out to scan it, just walk past some scanning gizmo which sends the bill to your mailbox?

Honestly, you’d think people would see this stuff coming. [And, I bet some do…while salivating in their sleep.] But, I guess, if you’re dumb enough to just nod when the commercials show people needing to replace their “phone” every time they trip and drop it in a sewer grate, I guess you’re gonna think this is cool and normal.

[Oh, how I miss the days when buying a new telephone meant you wanted something new to look appealing on your countertop or desk and didn’t need to be replaced for as long as you chose to use it. The landline never needed to be replaced unless something actually damaged the wires, which usually required a mistreated cat or some foul weather.]

How long is this teasing game of “Put everything into your computing device.” and “Aren’t you going to buy protection for yourself?” going to continue? Is this the new insurance scam? How long before we offer cellphone protection other than a little person shaped like a padlock? What if said insurance service is just the Prudential rock that starts the snowball to (heck) rolling? Just keep turning people into scared cattle. Shake them pockets til you’re bleeding green with laughter. Oh the promises of get-rich-quick business. Make it bigger and faster, and screw better; that’s just the lie you keep selling.

[Or, is making all of this so effortless and open to crime exactly how we break the crime spree, sort of like disarming the bully by denying him/her an emotional response (or, in this case, having everyone respond emotionally so he/she cannot tell who is the victim)? If everything is within grasp and free to take, where’s the thrill in stealing? Is that the logic? So, if we stop wearing underwear and other clothes, we can stop worrying about stains and certain odors?]

So, have fun storming the castles without firewalls. You get one stinking badge of stupidity for being Ignoro Mondoso. Prepare to have your finances die with your wireless device if you drink this poison. And, enjoy living in glass houses; because, soon enough, I fear, walls may have no meaning.

Kudos to all the adult-education facilities racking up student-loan debts and passing out degrees for tech’ jobs so everyone can have a means of tapping into whatever and whoever they want at any time. So what if your cell-madness factory takes out some farmland that could produce healthy food for millions, replacing that with a handful of temporary jobs to make countless replacement parts for something turning people into mindless microwave ovens, soon replaced with dozens of machines and a handful of supervising technicians who just “take the call” when something goes wrong at the robotic plant.

Pretty soon, you won’t have STDs, anymore; at least, not the kind that requires a medical procedure. You’ll pay a visit to your “computer guy” and, if he/she can’t fix the problem, you’ll just get a new “part,” anyway. Pretty soon, you won’t have to call it prostitution or rape. You’ll just excuse me while I bump my device against yours and have myself a good time. How much is a Virgin Mobile worth on the geisha market? If a cherry pops in someone’s pants, does the owner make a sound?

“No problem. Have a nice night.”

25
Jan
19

Which of These Is the Best Snake Name? Input Needed

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So, I am working on a story and need a name for a pet snake.  I’ve come up with a short list of names and would like readers’ input.  Which do you prefer for a yellow and white/albino python found in a forest setting during summer vacation?

Summer

Sherwood

Stacy

Whitney

Amber




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