May 2016
added to the fact that guns 'n' roses cite the Texan twang that can't be New Orleans in their song civil war from the album use your illusion pt. 2 from this film.
i play tricks with my father, rather i insinuate a strategy,
he's a worker of manual tedium,
we watch movies together and play the game:
what year, what actor, what other film was he in.
it paid off today... i sat watching *gentlemen prefer
blondes, oh god the American Renaissance
between the 50s and 60s and all that poetry...
where normal women would be considered fat
by today's standards of beauty-torture -
those thighs! those legs! then i started watching
cool hand luke... the man spotted Dennis Hopper!
playing Babalugats... the madman, sing-along...
a truly broken man, with such a defence membrane
that he escaped reality altogether, not the sort
of reality that cool Luke tried escaping from by
stealing one truck and taking the keys from the other
vehicles of the chain-gang in the deep south...
Babalugats did the real escape, he went mad, he said:
**** it, give me the extinguisher of ego, i'm
in a burning building, scortch my insides but
leave me immune to the fire of labour and iron bars
and that ******* routine of prison life!
he truly did escape, his threshold for enduring pain
increased to the point that he purred, clocked a chicken
strut and fellow prisoners took a pity on him to
the point of protecting him... the thing is...
i didn't spot Dennis Hopper... my father did... finally
the game i was invoking when watching movies:
the odd reference here and there paid off, i turned
my father into looking for cinematic patterns,
face recognitions, because of his manual profession
and his abhorrence of reading anything but the newspaper:
visual tactic... i'm seriously about to cry, and to not
vocalise it i pinch my nose as if snorkelling and then
no sound is made but the tears flow...
the game paid off, he became better than me at the game
of face-to-face association... i'm guessing this was
Dennis Hopper's debut... well after Blue Velvet he made
a name for himself... but like my grandfather said:
it takes great skill to play a Dostoyevsky idiot...
imagine Rowan Atkinson playing Mr. Bean or
the Antichrist playing Jesus of Nazareth - antimatter
and quantum physics and all to boot as
the rational cinematography allowance for people to
stomach such an eventuality.
i play tricks with my father, rather i insinuate a strategy,
he's a worker of manual tedium,
we watch movies together and play the game:
what year, what actor, what other film was he in.
it paid off today... i sat watching *gentlemen prefer
blondes, oh god the American Renaissance
between the 50s and 60s and all that poetry...
where normal women would be considered fat
by today's standards of beauty-torture -
those thighs! those legs! then i started watching
cool hand luke... the man spotted Dennis Hopper!
playing Babalugats... the madman, sing-along...
a truly broken man, with such a defence membrane
that he escaped reality altogether, not the sort
of reality that cool Luke tried escaping from by
stealing one truck and taking the keys from the other
vehicles of the chain-gang in the deep south...
Babalugats did the real escape, he went mad, he said:
**** it, give me the extinguisher of ego, i'm
in a burning building, scortch my insides but
leave me immune to the fire of labour and iron bars
and that ******* routine of prison life!
he truly did escape, his threshold for enduring pain
increased to the point that he purred, clocked a chicken
strut and fellow prisoners took a pity on him to
the point of protecting him... the thing is...
i didn't spot Dennis Hopper... my father did... finally
the game i was invoking when watching movies:
the odd reference here and there paid off, i turned
my father into looking for cinematic patterns,
face recognitions, because of his manual profession
and his abhorrence of reading anything but the newspaper:
visual tactic... i'm seriously about to cry, and to not
vocalise it i pinch my nose as if snorkelling and then
no sound is made but the tears flow...
the game paid off, he became better than me at the game
of face-to-face association... i'm guessing this was
Dennis Hopper's debut... well after Blue Velvet he made
a name for himself... but like my grandfather said:
it takes great skill to play a Dostoyevsky idiot...
imagine Rowan Atkinson playing Mr. Bean or
the Antichrist playing Jesus of Nazareth - antimatter
and quantum physics and all to boot as
the rational cinematography allowance for people to
stomach such an eventuality.
