voluptuousness at the grocery store –
of all places, i’m shore –
distracts me from what i even went there for.
i swear i have the list in-hand:
yellow mustard; country gravy; mini SOS pads,
and a friendly face patrolling should i forget such well-laid plans.
i don’t really want to be here but i am:
adulting is hard but proves i am a man!
another impromptu shopping experience in the can,
til i reach the impulse purchases at the exit door.
Ruggero Deodato’s “House on the Edge of the Park” is straight up “genre trash”. Terrible movie. Review over. For those wondering why this lesser-discussed grindhouse rape-revenge “most disturbing movie of all-time” nominee is so bad, let’s talk. Come on, I know this spot over by the park where we can groove, baby. I’ll be quick (probably not).
another morning,
another full moon –
entombed in this Pacific Northwestern Khartoum.
please Stargate rights-holders, don’t sue!
the waste paper basket is in full bloom
from all the other times the sacred rheum
once every thousand years was blew,
filling the air with its spume perfume.
the city won’t come around until the sun hits aground
so it’s too early still to exhume.
i exhale…
Which “Underworld” are we on now? Six? Seven? Seventeen? No no no, it isn’t that bad – we’re only on number Five, which for some is four too many. I personally never connected with any of the Underworld movies, except the third. My issue was always with the backstory: why is there such a complex lore for what is essentially vampires & werewolves shooting guns at each-other? I never really knew what was going on in those movies and that’s probably my fault for not paying more attention (a lot of “this character knows this other character from hundreds of years ago, and there’s a relic that does this-and-that but only under certain conditions and blah blah blah”), but I always had one-foot out the door with these sorts of things anyway. Sure, I’ve read my share of vampire stories and watched my share of monster movies, but anything tinged with a touch of magic, or involving children with superpowers, or “the fate of the world rests on this motley crew of pale attractive twenty-somethings” is more my wife’s department.
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Did you know Philippe Nahon died during COVID? Too bad. “High Tension” from 2003 is one of the original entries in the New French Extremity movement, and its reputation therein would not be as solidified weren’t it for the committed turn by the late Mr. Nahon. It made me check his IMDB page to see if there were any other movies of his I was missing out on, only to find the ones I knew were what I expected to be his highlights: his early Gaspar Noé contributions and “Calvaire”. Hey, if I was a professional actor, I’d probably be satiated with the kind of marquee Nahon got from this and “I Stand Alone” – inevitable typecasting aside. Some people like playing the villain, and some were born to play villains. Nahon falls squarely into the second category, and his methodical killer at the heart of director Alexandre Aja’s first feature (who went on to make the “Hills Have Eyes” & “Piranha” remakes) rescues what is unfortunately a very opuscule “college girls trapped at a secluded location while being hunted for unknown reasons” genre ride.
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theory of a daskeman 