Category: 2020

olivia

A micro-story for mature readers.

coffee weed and fucking the perfect day. the dream. my dream not everyones we all have different dreams. i dont dream much anymore but when i do its the same dreams ive always had. im somewhere remote, somewhere beautiful, and im driving. i know where im going and i can never get there fast enough. then i find out im not going anywhere, that im running. and i dont see who im running from but its someone in another car and they are always one step behind me. but i dont see them. so do i really know who im running from? maybe im running from myself. it always felt like a doppelganger, knowing my every move like that even on some of the lower roads ive driven on, still drive on twenty years later while my body sleeps. one time i dreamt that my father left me. that he disappeared in to thin air and i had to go looking for him. i travelled the world in a gyrocopter with two bumbling midget sidekicks like a live action disney movie from the eighties and it was all to find him. but he left me. just like i got used to everyone leaving me. running from everybody. sheltered. but i knew what i needed. if i could just have another joint another cup of coffee, with the special creamer, get my dick sucked while i played video games it would all be okay. but i never had enough not even when it should have been enough i needed more, no weed id have a pot of coffee no coffee no weed i would lock myself in my room and masturbate all day, watching the same videos id seen a million times before. had to stay in my comfort zone even when watching porn. i love watching porn but i dont watch it anymore or else im not sharp for olivia.

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Jay’s Take: Dolittle

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Rarely can I shut my brain off and simply enjoy a movie on its own terms: my thoughts will travel in a million different directions and any one of them can affect my impression. One can claim to be critically non-biased but if I have a bad day and I want to unwind by going to see the latest Jane Austin adaptation AND THEN I HATE IT (which I most surely will, if the trailer preceding this particular feature was anything to go by) then I have no one to blame but myself, don’t I? There are a minimum of three new domestic movies released EVERY WEEK OF THE YEAR, not including international films or re-releases. There will always be movies to see. If I had my choice, then, would I have seen Dolittle? The much-maligned reboot-slash-reimagining of Doctor Dolittle with an unshackled-from-Kevin-Feige’s-basement Robert Downey Jr? No: I would have sneaked into it for free. What do you want? It had terrible pre-screening reviews; worrisome press about “reshoots” and “retooling”; and then it was release-dumped in January: a time when no one wants to go to the movies because everyone is still exhausted physically-and-financially from Christmas and suddenly become very aware of how much popcorn should actually cost. Is your movie’s tone a little darker then you would like it and the Men In Suits pay you millions of dollars to reshoot the ending, only to have the new one ruin the continuity of the rest of the film? Dump it in January. Are you up against another Star Wars or Fast & Furious sequel on your current release date and all the big Studio boys have paid double then what you can afford for May-to-December slots? Dump it in January. Silly horror movie starring the only boy from that Netflix show who was willing to suck-a-dick for a career? January. Oscar bait? January. A foreign film re-edited by The Weinstein Company, and if that wasn’t bad enough Harvey gets slapped by your lead actress and he shelves the movie for three years? Nos vemos en Enero. Doctor Dolittle 2020? SEE YOU IN JANUARY. Guy Ritchie’s movies keep getting released in January: I’m sure he is not impressed. But my wife and sister LOVED King Arthur with Charlie Hunnam, and they were stoked for this “new vision” of the Dolittle story, too (which sadly is not directed by Guy Ritchie – but there is a “popcorn flick” for ya). Would it be like the Rex Harrison original, which my wife grew up on? The Eddie Murphy movies, which my sister grew up on? Or would it be closer to the books?

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Selected Scenes: The Bone Collector

Spoiler Alert!

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Lincoln Rhyme is a living legend among the NYPD elite, and it’s a wonder he’s still living. The brilliant homicide detective-slash-criminologist has written the book – several in fact – on investigating crime, but since a tragic accident left him quadriplegic and bed-ridden he has lost the will to live. How can he do what he was born to when, along with being isolated, his colleagues think he’s more of a washed-up celebrity then the force of nature he was? A new serial killer is prowling the streets. When Rhyme is consulted on the crime scene photos, he sees a way to work from home: by letting the photographer, rookie Amelia Donaghy, be his eyes-and-ears on the ground. With his almost-supernatural ability to deduce and the cop’s instincts she inherited from her father, the duo grind the case out together but not quickly enough to save this murderer’s victims from the tauntingly-complex time-sensitive contraptions he has them hooked up to. Rhyme and Donaghy find out the killer is using a crime novel as his template and with the last murder in the book completed, he turns his attention to Rhyme. Turns out, the killer is not only one of Rhyme’s medical orderlies but a corrupt ex-cop who Lincoln slandered in one of his true-crime books, who was then “used as a human toilet” in prison and released with a taste for elaborately-plotted vengeance. How will Lincoln get himself out of this jam? Can he count on the new friends he made along the way? Will their kindness inspire a new joie-de-vivre in this crippled husk of a man? Am I digging for character depth too deeply in a movie where the lead actor got to lie down on a bed for ninety-nine percent of the time?

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Selected Scenes: Erik the Viking

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It isn’t easy being a viking, especially when you’re young and just learning the ways. Erik is one of this new generation: jaded and disillusioned, he’s in line for his clan’s throne but can’t bring himself to participate in his family’s history of pillaging and carnage. There has to be more to life then violence, but what is peace after Ragnarok? The land has been shrouded in overcast and rain for so long that it couldn’t be anything but the Age of Ragnarok: the end of the world – couldn’t it? Erik isn’t sure of anything, other then he has never seen the sun, and the weight of his first kill (a woman he refuses to rape during a raid) weighs heavily on him. This needs to stop: the Gods must be awakened from their slumber to bring back blue skies and the promise of a future of genuine change. A chance encounter with a seer gives him the push he needs: if he could find the Gjallarhorn – or, the Horn Resounding – on the mythical island of Hy-Brasil and blow it, the rainbow road to the Gods’ home of Asgard will open and the sound could end their quietus. Joined by the other able-bodied men of his tribe, Erik sets sail to uncharted territory and his destiny. Days pass. The men are restless for action and begin to doubt the validity of the stories they grew up with, which isn’t helped by a converted Christian priest who joins them and questions the old legends. They enter a fog patch and think they see a light in the sky. Is it the sun? Does it really exist? But it isn’t a sun at all: it’s a bauble hanging from the fearsome Dragon of the North! If this beast exists then surely their expedition cannot be in vain. Can our heroes escape?

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bring back the clubbing rock

bring back the clubbing rock

A short story for mature readers.

“A fantastical tale of a succubus and her new victim is not what it seems.”

A Long Time Ago, in an Age when middle income families couldn’t afford cell phones and elementary school computer labs housed Macintosh 128ks, there lived a Boy. This wasn’t a young man but a grown Boy who still worked at a labour-intensive warehouse picking orders into his thirties. He was bearded and bright-eyed and you could trace his Germanic roots all the way back to the time of the Vikings; if he wanted more from life then he was given, all he had to do was reach out and take it and it would be his. This was his family’s Gift. But the Boy didn’t feel the pleasure of youth he once used to and was frightened of the responsibility; and his own callous nature towards the Gift. He had a good life. A complicated one, but whose life didn’t have its share? And this Boy lived peacefully in a basement suite with his girlfriend of ten years, who loved him very much: so much that she still took him back after he had cheated on her. She had convinced him that life without her was unfruitful and he made the commitment that in the New Year he would be a better boyfriend: he would cut back on the drink; and he would stop stepping out with girls who fell outside the Rule Of Sevens.

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