Baley

Like, I was reading this and halfway through I decided I (really) wanted a copy. PS: God, how I hate myself.

The last article (on the first page) page is better. And if you look through all the 750 reviews you'll find other such stories, and even poetry -- which is always hilarious (and gay).

1. What is your age? 17. 2. What is your favorite color? Does black (and|or white) count? That or green. 3. List some interests. I write gay poetry (and prose) about nothing in particular. I also edit said prose ad nauseam. 4. What kind of music do you like? Mainly: Hip-Hop, Blues, Jazz (and|or Fusion), Rock (especially Punk and Noise) Classical. Various others + subgenres. 5. What genre of movies do you like? Drama (various subjects + settings). Comedy (various subjects + settings). Action (various subjects + settings). Pornography (various subjects + settings). I'm gay for Westerns and Samurai flicks. 6. What genre of video games do you like? I don't play video games (much|anymore). 7. What quality do you most admire in a person? Steel|Adamantium Abs. 8. What quality do you least admire in a person? Ignorance? Stupidity? Prudishness? Beats me. (It's all about the abs anyway.) 9. Do you think of yourself as a negative or posaitive person? Guess ("it depends" is a good answer, as is "I don't really care", "I don't think of myself in those terms" is okay, but terribly pretentious). Match me up, Lou. Edit: Added Pornography. (Wink Wink)

You're offering?

Of all the 60s blues-inspired rock guitarists, I'd rate Robertson highest. I'm not much of a fan of his solo career, truth be told, I haven't really followed it. Liked that song's spoken word part though. Not bad. The Twilight Singers - Esta Noche.

16 Horsepower - Black Soul Choir Nas - The World Is Yours Sonny Terry & Brownie McGhee - Backwater Blues Organized Konfusion - Stress GZA - Liquid Swords Werner Herzog Eats His Shoe Jeunet's Foutaises Dreyer's The Passion Of Joan of Arc Lang's Metropolis Plenty of other good stuff (especially Silent Era films, just search for 'em), I really do like youtube.

Yeah, it wasn't in the novella. The ending was different as well (Reed insisted on the change). If nothing else, Welles was one charismatic bastard. Sure. I don't need the girl.* * http://www.imdb.com/title/tt0088944/quotes Izo The first "surreal" film to work (on any level) in a very long time. The first I've seen anyway. The script's the usual pseudo-philosophical drivel, religious and mystical mumbo-jumbo, written in a, shall we say, romantic fashion, and by romantic I mean flowery, trivial, prone to silly metaphors and, obviously, boring, banal and vapid. I'd say it resembled some overtly gothic whore's toilet paper scribbles. Unfortunately, I'd feel all effeminate after mumbling that, oh God, how I wish I was more in touch with my queerly poetic side, perhaps then I could understand the tortured|marred souls that pass for poets these days. Perhaps then I could bridge the gap between the soul and nothingness via frank, brutal anal sex. Anyway, I'm quite certain the whole film's a metaphor for brief (interrupted) homosexual intercourse. Man on Man, if you get my drift. It's all very nice, thanks to Miike, the motherf[--]ker can direct, the acid-folk singer (Representing Izo's subconscious? Bleh.) was good as well. So why then am I (sorta) raving about this film? It's one big clusterf[--]k of violence, sex, bad jokes, bad metaphors, detached acting, decent music, blasphemous behaviour (Izo takes a piss on the head prelates) and most importantly, it makes for a fine Nihlistic viewing experience, until the end where it all descends into metaphors and visual ideas and where one has to accept the fact that this film should never be seen sober or taken seriously. In one word: Hilarious. In five words: Hilarious and very very watchable. Hours go poof while Baley laughs and laughs and laughs. Bis. Encore. Oh, and Bob Sapp plays a bad-ass fighter dude, "this [poopy] is wack, son." (PS: I prefer my gay sex ala Querelle or, you know, bargain bin pornography. Though, admittedly, I'm not the greatest of enthusiasts.)

It's a remake of a Danish film "Nattevagten" (same name), which is infinitely better.. they haven't captured the creppy feeling at all, they turn it into a kind of action-thriller which it wasn't supposed to be at all.. true hollywood for you! <{POST_SNAPBACK}> Since when? Nightwatch is based on a novel, it is not a remake of another movie. Though I agree, it really is a disappointing movie. <{POST_SNAPBACK}> There's more than one film by the name of Nightwatch, padawan, the Dane was talking about this one, while the American (Canadian? Canuck?), well, I don't really know which one he was talking bout, but I reckon it was the Russian flick. The Assassination of Richard Nixon Ain't much I'll say on this subject, don't worry, it was really really good, borderline great, almost great, Sean Penn absolutely nailed it, Naomi Watts was okay and Don Cheadle pretty damn good. Of course, the questions one asks himself while watching this are of greater interest to the individual than anything I could ever babble on about, so yeah, go watch it. The direction's fantastic. The script too. Drats. Damn you, Finn.

Not much. Don't get me wrong, it's not that I necessarily don't like myself, I rather do, it's just that I've got this magnificent cold, I've been coughing like a senile mule for the past hour or so, the world outside is getting colder and colder (as I sit here and contemplate nothing-in-particular-ness), and though that's the kind of thing I'd've prayed to the Lord for a week ago, it's screwing up my metabolism, and frankly, I'm not into all that, not my kind of pain, you know, not my kind of sensation. I don't miss the heatwave, that's for sure. Of course, 7 films in 3 days is hardly a record, I've got no other nerd passions, I don't play video-games, I haven't touched a book in days and, to my great shame, I haven't managed to listen to a single album in 30 or so hours. Obviously, I'm sleep-deprived, as well as linguistically challenged and really really bored.

Paper Moon Yeah, I'll admit enjoying this, the chemistry between O'Neal and his daughter is pretty fun and they're both really watchable, the script manages to escape cheap sentimentality and the direction ain't necessarily bad. Constantly decent, if nothing else. Les enfants terribles (The Strange Ones) I've never cared much for Jean Cocteau, both as a writer (his life is far more interesting) and a director, thankfully, Melville's at the helm this time (the reason I watched it in the first place, believing he could salvage something, anything) and he makes it borderline watchable. Were it not for Cocteau's awful voice and pretentious lines, it might've been decent, maybe even good, as things are though, it's passable at best. The Third Man Beautiful, Robert Krasker was a master cinematographer. Graham Greene has always been the man (and, perhaps, always will be). Orson Welles is incredibly charismatic, the direction, the script, the music, the actors, everything's top notch. Possibly the best film ever made. I need to watch more Carol Reed flicks. Pronto. Br

"Man, they're, like, totally different. I mean, for starters LaVeyan Chaos Magick is totally fake, man, Jon was into the real stuff, not some egotistical|atheistic mongrel pussified bulls[-]it. Man, Jon was the real deal, man, he was, like, Crowley's successor, his real heir, blood of his blood, sperm of his sperm, you know about that fake NASA hellspawn? Well, that was a total bummer, man, engineered by the American Government to control the nation's youth, Jon was gonna end all that, he was gonna trigger the Armageddon, powered by his music, man. This is so obviously a cover-up, I'm not sure "who" or "how" or even "why", but it's gotta be, man, Jon would never leave us, his music was here to guide us, to... I am the Antichrist It's what I was meant to be Your God left me behind And set my soul to be free Watching disciples Of the satanic rule Pentagram of blood Holds the jackal's truth Searching for the answer Christ hasn't come Awaiting the final moment The birth of Satan's son Those are the words of the Slayer, the sixth prophet's dead, the gates of heaven shall unbar and Jesus "The Rapist" Christ'll come down to Earth and screw my sweet old mum up the poophole while race wars, and religious wars, consume the earth. The sixth prophet's dead. Free your mind and your ass will follow. Un-Amen. Un-God Bless." - The Un-Baley. Yeah, basically, he was bonkers, one of those awful bastards guided by their own dementia and self-fellating dreams of grandeur. Thankfully, he won't be releasing new music anytime soon (Maha Kali was awful anyway), I'm sure we can all find a little bit of hope (for the future) in that. Maybe praise the Lord or Lords or Consciousness or whatever. I dunno, but it's one less homophobe|murderer|fundie out there, and while I don't usually celebrate other bastards' deaths, I'ma gonna make an exception, drink a glass of wine and think how happy being alive makes me. Not much of a grand celebration, granted, I'm as poor as dirt. Oh, and I like the first 5 tracks off Blackberry Belle (I'll listen to the rest later). Maybe I'll pick up Powder Burns. Any good? Arrested Development - Raining Revolution.

Shaun of the Dead Funny. But frankly, the direction's the only part I'd call great. Though I can see myself watching this again and again, you know, laughing my ass off. I was gonna make a zombie pun and use the word "stellar" somewhere, but then I decided on not being a loser, uh, a bigger one, on the internet, who uses the word "stellar" a lot, between jerk'n'twisting to "School Girl Rape" hentai (not that I jerk'n'twist the Samoan Uber-he-devil to "School Girl Rape" hentai, really) and listening to the new Muse single (not that I listen to the new Muse Single, okay, okay, I admit, the overt gayness appeals to me, just a little). Or something. Sleep deprivation's doing wonders for me, eh? Eh? Monty Python's The Meaning of Life Watch The Crimson Permanent Assurance. Fast forward till the final number. Watch Eric Idle croon. Call it goodnight. Close the telly. Think of all the wonderful time you'll be spending with your lovely fam and naughty 3 year old mistress "Pam" (in her little pink cage, natch). To Die For Basically, I could go either way. I don't really know how attentive I'd have been were it not for Nicole Kidman ass and the whole "monkey business in my pants, oh God, it's Heaven!" routine. I like Gus Van Sant, the script was okay and the actors pretty good. Definitely watchable (and|or funny). I'll give it that.

Hey, Drabs, some background info on the whole Jon "Chugging on Satan's Wee-Wee" N

Away, half-drunken ramblings, away. As Jack once advised me to say, I've been sort of busy. I'll "listen" to the Twilight Singers LP tomorrow. That Nomeansno track's pretty good. And, God, I've done it. Succinctness! Finally! Dropkick Murphys - The Fortunes of War.

Conciseness is to Baley what Timo Rautiainen is to Musopticon? I was joking|kidding. And believed you actively disliked the bastard. (See, I can do it!) NOFX - The Decline.

Succinctness? Never! Linguistically|Musically speaking, Conciseness:Baley::Timo Rautiainen:Musopticon. Eh, these days I do most of my "listening" on the DVD-player between Farscape episodes. I'm a sad, sad Nerd. True. NOFX - The Decline.

Not yet, dawg. There's this personal directive I gotta uphold and it, sorta, makes|forces me to actually, you know, listen (and, God, I mean really listen, not the "ooh-ooh I'm gonna wrestle the cobra and write me memoirs while the music plays and plays in the background-listen") to the music (and|or lyrics) before passing my ever-critical (decisive) judgement. You see, mate, all my wisdom (eh?) erudition (huh?) and common sense (right) have to mix together safely for me to do the mental boogie-woogie with the CD Player. And this, unfortunately, ain't the right time, got things to do, later certainly, hell, positively. (I also have A Live History of Gluttony and Lust to "process".) Right, meanwhile I'ma gonna cruise the safe waters of Punk Rawk, if you don't mind. PS: I like it. NOFX - The Decline.

The Twilight Singers - Martin Eden.

There are, shall we say, exceptions. Though perhaps limited in both scope and understanding, they do provide me with some meager entertainment, you know, bettering my daily life. And so on and so forth. ( I kid. I kid. And Love. And Love.)

Yeah, D. Though they should've ditched that Paul Barman ****. Jeff Buckley - Hallelujah.

It's based on a novel, his first dealing with the events (or better yet, effects) of February 20th 1974. Unfortunately, I've yet to read it or watch the film, and thus I am unable to declare you a puerile philistine, yet. Oranges Are Not The Only Fruit Not bad, though it does have a knack for devolving into pure melodrama and lifelessly delivered lines. Episode 3 is borderline rubbish, the music almost always intruding, (some of the) actors worthless and, well, the message is, of course, just and|or modern and|or coffee-house anti-clerical. We learn, religion blows, lesbians are invariably drawn to petite Fundie temples and mousy small-town simps make for grade A Oxford material. All very equitable once you realise this is some middle-aged broad's epic fantasy of love, betrayal and Pentecostal bondage. (PS: Not true. The Author was 20-something when it was first published. It appears to be somewhat autobiographical. Why then have I kept the above-written sentence? Simple, I am increasingly homosexual towards my own words and phrases. It is love.) That said, there are some genuinely powerful scenes (little Jess growing sicker and sicker while her family and church declare it, her loss of senses, a miracle from God and prance around her, touching her like apocryphal banana-men of ancient times). Scenes which had almost made me turn the upstairs faucets on, you know which ones, and let the righteous flood mourn my passing manhood. Or something. You're not gonna get a teary-eyed Baley babbling about teary-eye-inducing flicks. Not yet at least. Hopefully. God Bless.

And now for something completely different,

Read the thread's title, dawg.