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Greymatter | Memebot

July 2005

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Thursday, July 21st

Mulholland Drive

music: atonal jazz
mood: confused

I saw David Lynch in a bloody heap on the floor, paper strewn all around his twitching body. "Is this the rest of the script, fool?" I asked, kicking him in the head for dramatic emphasis. I picked up some of the paper, and saw they were blank. Rage contorted my features, and I kicked him again. "Damn you!"
Little old people came running out of his nostrils, along with his blood, but I squashed them beneath my feet as I would a couple of ants. "You know, Lynch, a thriller is supposed to have a coherent plot, and answers that match the questions posed."
He looked up at me, drooling. Obviously, he was suffering from syphilitic insanity, which would explain the gratuitous lesbian love scenes and the fact that his movie was missing at least an hour of footage.
"I should kill you for misusing an actor of Robert Forster's skill, you bastard. Did he solve the mystery?
Did he? DID HE!!??!?" More drool and inaudible grunting was the only reply, so I picked him up and tossed him across the room in disgust. The answers I sought were not to be found here.
tommygun on 07.21.05 @ 08:47 PM CST [link] [No Comments]

Sunday, July 10th


music: Brother, Can You Spare A Dime
mood: Downbeat

A man doesn't mind poverty for himself, mind you. It's for the people in his life that he's driven to succeed. To buy something nice for his mother; to entertain family and friends; to keep the little woman
from saying "You'll always be a loser, you no-good rotten bum you." Of course, there are always the big toys needed by big boys, too, but if one is a sage, then the need for such trifles seem so petty somehow. That's why people who are smart tend not to be rich: they lack that monomania required to concentrate on something small for long periods of time. Instead they focus on the big picture and get lost in their own thoughts, or become scientists and get used by industrialists, many of whom can't write and need secretaries to read letters for them. Of course, many idiots are also poor as well, and I speak out of personal feeling, rather than any empirical evidence. It's no crime to be poor, but maybe it should be. The punishment would be to hang out with Bill Gates or Donald Trump, which strikes me as cruel and unusual punishment indeed. The other rich folk are no fun either, and those born into money
seem to be rather stupid. That's why the rich don't party often with us poor folk: they're afraid we'll con them out of their ill-gotten gains, or track mud into their mansions. It makes me wonder if communism wouldn't be a good idea, but then it would probably fail here as it has so many other places.

The problem with communism was that Karl Marx made a glaring error: communism was not a synthesis, it was an anti-thesis to capitalism. What is needed is a new way, unseen by any ideologue,
but slowly being worked out in some places around the world. When this is finally realized, maybe poverty will no longer exist, and no one will have to be forced to associate with Donald Trump.
tommygun on 07.10.05 @ 01:58 PM CST [link] [No Comments]

Tuesday, July 5th


music: Cobwebs & Strange by The Who
mood: jolly

I should feel that life is hopeless, yet I don't. I should feel horrible about the corner I've been backed into, but I can always make a mad rush to daylight or claw my way through the wall. Both fine options, each having the element of surprise. Right now, it's not poverty that bugs me, it's how people treat me because I have no money. So if they're that shallow that my lack of funds keeps them out of my life, or makes them wish they didn't know me, then I want lots of money so I can say, "Go take a flying leap through a rolling donut". I'd give them a dollar if they can make it through, and then I'd tell them to get bent, and I'd go find new people who would love me for myself. Failing in that, I would fan myself with a stack of $100 dollar bills while I watched Rocky & Bullwinkle & Friends. All I need to succeed is just a little seed capital: I've asked Mark Cuban, but he's prejudiced against T'wolf fans I figure, since he's never contacted me yet. Of course, like a wolf I should get back on his trail, and seek out other game. Until then, I'll work like a dog and find new opportunities on the side, in order to bring my life into some semblance of order. If I must panic, I'll do so with joy.
tommygun on 07.05.05 @ 08:38 PM CST [link] [No Comments]