I've often wondered why horror movies had such devoted fans. I know it's not really because you horror film watchers need to feel better about your own lives. Or maybe? Or, maybe you appreciate the score. Many horror films I've seen have some of the best scores in movies. And they (can be) cerebral, primal and physical. I think that the real horror playing out in society would obviate the need. Somehow, the madman-gone-public tragedies at Columbine, Virginia Tech, Aurora, Co. and then, newer Newtown and its even newer Boston, it's taken the optimism for a safer society, and the fight, right out of me. They say some people like to be scared, to get a charge off it. I believe it. People just want to be scared in different ways. They jump out of airplanes, they go into the burning building, they make unpopular social and political stands, they blow the lid off of NSA domestic spying operations, they martyr. Being scared may not be the primary reason, but it's part of the cockail, from garnish to gut. Would it make sense to say I'm scared that I'm scared? Do you get off on horror movies? Are you scared? Why?
Showing posts with label Writing is Hard. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Writing is Hard. Show all posts
Sunday, June 16, 2013
From Garnish to Gut.
You quickly understand your life is not all that bad by watching just the last 25 minutes of The Shining.
Labels:
its been a hard week,
Musings,
Writing is Hard
Saturday, October 31, 2009
los angeles
this infinite table
a grotesque feast, a presentation of precedent
pomegranates and oranges,
concasse of hunger and silver-plated spittle,
cuvee, red beans and beer.
and the carcasses of gazelle and lamb
leather central and gristle-adjacent
napkins unfolded on laps, grasping
coddled eggs and eclairs,
lust and fear
my mouth fastens upon a peach
alcoholic, sick with ferment
my organs are undressed of their varnish
I'm inside out now
and try not to notice.
a grotesque feast, a presentation of precedent
pomegranates and oranges,
concasse of hunger and silver-plated spittle,
cuvee, red beans and beer.
and the carcasses of gazelle and lamb
leather central and gristle-adjacent
napkins unfolded on laps, grasping
coddled eggs and eclairs,
lust and fear
my mouth fastens upon a peach
alcoholic, sick with ferment
my organs are undressed of their varnish
I'm inside out now
and try not to notice.
Friday, October 2, 2009
Until I get my (metaphysical) balls up to post my work of fiction, another poetic liberty
It was so satisfying to put an "X" with a box around it
just fill it, fill the empty space
since I've run off the road
the lines are a weak grace
I gazed upon the yard below
the way high hidden window a secure square
this little face filling it's frame
the perch - a throne
the room - a lair
And the distance and height a power
a lesson impressed hence
touch with out feeling
blindly freeing
the window an imprisoning consequence.
just fill it, fill the empty space
since I've run off the road
the lines are a weak grace
I gazed upon the yard below
the way high hidden window a secure square
this little face filling it's frame
the perch - a throne
the room - a lair
And the distance and height a power
a lesson impressed hence
touch with out feeling
blindly freeing
the window an imprisoning consequence.
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