Thursday, April 19, 2018

Rand - not hand - Puppets

(This wet towel is not, will not and cannot be a 'hand puppet')
Reasoning: It belongs in my kitchen. That's why. bye.

Cannes Film Festival 2018 (Hotel Carlton, French Riviera)

The weekend wheels.

Digs at the Carlton Hotel.
                               noun informal 
  1. Temporary Living Quarters.
    "settled into new digs in French Riviera"

    synonyms:home, quarters, living quarters, rooms, accommodations;
actress Olga Kurylenko

actress Kristen Stewart

with actor Gary Oldman


Wednesday, April 18, 2018

I want to buy a new watch. 

Bye (not ‘buy’ in this instance). 

Tuesday, April 17, 2018

R.I.P. James

never forgotten. 

so sad to see your coffin body so terribly swollen. so poorly designed for this viewing. your loving spirit so clearly departed from all of this physical matter. what I noticed resting inside of this coffin viewing was only a fond memory of the many years of knowing you and your good will. I know for certain that you are truly resting in peace now. I called your cellphone a few times after leaving the viewing to hear your voice a few last times on your recorded answering machine message.  I won't forget you, James. I promise you that. rip

Monday, April 16, 2018




Saturday, April 14, 2018

One Flew Over His Cuckoo's Nest

                                               r.i.p. Milos Foreman  :(

Thursday, April 12, 2018

Head alone shows you in the prodigious act
Of digesting what centuries alone digest:
The mammoth, lumbering statuary of sorrow,
Indissoluble enough to riddle the guts
Of a whale with holes and holes, and bleed him white
Into salt seas.  Hercules had a simple time,
Rinsing those stables:  a baby's tears would do it.
But who'd volunteer to gulp the Laocoon,
The Dying Gaul and those innumerable pietas
Festering on the dim walls of Europe's chapels,
Museums and sepulchers?  You. bye.
Who borrowed feathers for your feet, not lead,
Not nails, and a mirror to keep the snaky head
In safe perspective, could outface the gorgon-grimace
Of human agony:  a look to numb
Limbs:  not a basilisk-blink, nor a double whammy,
But all the accumulated last grunts, groans,
Cries and heroic couplets concluding the million
Enacted tragedies on these blood-soaked boards,
And every private twinge a hissing asp
To petrify your eyes, and every village
Catastrophe a writhing length of cobra,
And the decline of empires the thick coil of a vast
          Imagine:  the world
Fisted to a foetus head, ravined, seamed
With suffering from conception upwards, and there
You have it in hand.  Grit in the eye or a sore
Thumb can make anyone wince, but the whole globe
Expressive of grief turns gods, like kings, to rocks.
Those rocks, cleft and worn, themselves then grow
Ponderous and extend despair on earth's
Dark face. bye.
           So might rigor mortis come to stiffen
All creation, were it not for a bigger belly
Still than swallows joy.
                         You enter now,
Armed with feathers to tickle as well as fly,
And a fun-house mirror that turns the tragic muse
To the beheaded head of a sullen doll, one braid,
A bedraggled snake, hanging limp as the absurd mouth
Hangs in its lugubious pout.  Where are
The classic limbs of stubborn Antigone?
The red, royal robes of Phedre?  The tear-dazzled
Sorrows of Malfi's gentle duchess?
In the deep convulsion gripping your face, muscles
And sinews bunched, victorious, as the cosmic
Laugh does away with the unstitching, plaguey wounds
Of an eternal sufferer.
                         To you
Perseus, the palm, and may you poise
And repoise until time stop, the celestial balance
Which weighs our madness with our sanity.

         S. Plath

Monday, April 9, 2018

2nd Unit exteriors ... with a zero script

...but wit some type of subconscious plan. 
yupb ye.

Avant-Garde Analog DIY presentation using power chords and battery operated devices. bye.

Sunday, April 8, 2018

Dust in the Wind

I close my eyes, only for a moment, and the moment's gone
All my dreams pass before my eyes, a curiosity

Dust in the wind
All they are is dust in the wind

Same old song, just a drop of water in an endless sea
All we do crumbles to the ground though we refuse to see

Dust in the wind
All we are is dust in the wind

Oh, ho, ho

Now, don't hang on, nothing lasts forever but the earth and sky
It slips away

And all


Wednesday, April 4, 2018

Tuesday, April 3, 2018


Without Brando as Corleone, the Godfather I and II could not have been the films that they are today- pure classics.  bye.

Monday, April 2, 2018

Happy Day after Easter. 

. ... According to some sources, the Easter bunny first arrived in America in the 1700s with NOS (Not Otherwise Specified) immigrants who settled in Pennsylvania and transported their tradition of an egg-laying hare called “Osterhase” or “Oschter Haws.” Their children made nests in which this creature could lay its colored eggs. These humanoid rabbits (hares) were NEVER one day late to deliver any eggs and popular mythology has never mentioned anything about any Easter Hare aka Bunny wearing a kind of color schemed bathrob, sweatpants or reading glasses. bye.