Why do you be?
(via wkukfans)
whydostthouthus replied to your post: Okay, I need to have film nights.
OMG I want Tarkovskiy night. Although I think we’d all be intellectually burnt out at the end of the night for sure. Poltergeist fits right in BTW. Also, consider The Omen and Texas Chainsaw.
Definitely, as I have never seen them. Also have never seen Halloween or Friday the 13th. But I love Nightmare on Elm Street, New Nightmare, and Poltergeist. A lot. Also bring on the Tarkovskiy. I am dying to watch those movies.
Both of those are good films, worth watching, despite being a little slow, but I’d say to reserve them for a night where you really want to delve into Slasher films. I feel like I should love Halloween, but I almost fear I missed the boat on that one. I can see what’s special about it.. but I just get very bored. Friday the 13th is pretty awesome though. It’s low budget and choppy and I just can’t think of anything negative to say about it (the rest of the spotty franchise aside). TCM can be categorized as a slasher too, but there’s something darker and weirder and more organic about it. It’s my favorite. It’s such a strange freaky mess.
Poltergeist, <3 forever
(via fyeah-sparks)
I have a vague recollection of enjoying sex more than any drug. When I say this to Wil, he scoffs at me, amused, tells me how wrong I am. I shrug in agreement, pointing out that I’ve got no basis to make that claim anyhow, it’s been a long time since I last had any of either. I’m a little embarrassed, despite knowing he’s just talking about heroin as he’s proving me wrong.
Passion still seems foreign. Since, like, two Halloweens ago I guess. I think I should start using Halloweens for my basis of time.
Wil complains that his side of the table is sticky. He tells me to do something about it. I reach over and place my palm on it. Like a Mom. It is. When the waitress comes back I ask sweetly if she would mind bringing us a wet cloth. Wil is overjoyed, shocked that I actually asked. He tells me he loves me for it. I would have done that for anyone.
I think I’m having the same philosophical conversation over and over again with different people in hopes of getting some clarity. I got some twice, the first time was horribly depressing and left me in an extremely low place for a few weeks, with little sense of myself. The second time was much more recent and had the complete opposite effect. I feel much better. Maybe it will last a little while.
If it won’t hurt, my intention is to care for you until we are dead.
“I find the odor of death very erotic. There are death odors and there are death odors. Now you get your body that’s been floating in the bay for two weeks, or a burn victim, that doesn’t attract me much, but a freshly embalmed corpse is something else. There is also this attraction to blood. When you’re on top of a body it tends to purge blood out of its mouth, while you’re making passionate love.”
Karen Greenlee didn’t kill men to get the corpses, but she certainly had an attraction to them once they were dead. In 1979 in California, Greenlee was to deliver the body of a 33-year-old man to a cemetery for a funeral, but instead she drove off in the hearse, abducting the corpse to keep for herself. She was found and charged with stealing a hearse and interfering with a funeral, and apparently it wasn’t the first time she’d felt such a sexual attraction to the dead. Into this casket she had put a long letter that detailed her erotic episodes with what she estimated had been over 20 male corpses. Calling herself a “morgue rat,” she didn’t understand why she felt so compelled to touch dead bodies, but it was an addiction she couldn’t seem to break. Because the letter was found, Greenlee was kicked out of the profession. In an interview later with Jim Morton, she told him that the erotic moment involved the entire atmosphere: the aura of death, the smell, the funeral home, the mourning, and all the trappings. It wasn’t just about sexual stimulation, it was about a complete mindset. She enjoyed the odor of the freshly embalmed corpse of a male in his twenties, and even the blood that might come out of his mouth as she got on top of him. She admitted having broken into some mortuaries and tombs in order to pursue her habit, and once she was nearly caught with the goods. Ashamed at first, she’d later accepted her desires.
(via lovelyybridgiee)
I quit drinking beer, but it’s what I fantasize about. Being with friends somewhere tasting each other’s beer and talking about it, talking about other things, making jokes and being relaxed. I actually quit drinking to the best of my ability, but tonight I was sure I was going to have a breakdown so I had a margarita and a xanax. Now I’m sitting alone in a basement feeling the effects of a margarita and a xanax.
My job has become excruciating. It’s changed from boring research to true, sincere overpaid data entry and all I can think is, if I’m working this job so that I have money in my bank account, but I have nothing to spend this money on, then I’m working this job for no reason.
I don’t pay rent, I live with my parents. I don’t pay car insurance, I don’t have a car. I think I’m on my father’s health insurance, which doesn’t seem to be accepted by any doctors, but either way, I’m not paying for that. I don’t go out. My friends don’t call me. I don’t date. I stopped drinking. My debt is mostly paid off, and if I decided to, I could pay it off with the amount in my bank account anytime.
I pay for a Hulu+ account, a netflix account, my commute to work, and the occasional movie that I go to, alone. (Are you fucking kidding me? Of course no one wants to go to the movies with me. That alone was redundant.)
I think I see the solution.
…
sign up for amazon prime.
I started reading John Dies at the End for the fourth time. The creators launched an ARG to engage fans while we count down to the release of the sequel in October, which I’ve already pre-ordered, and paid for express shipping, because, yes, I need it as soon as possible. And I’m a regular, I’m part of the crew.
And that’s the most exciting thing right now. It’s the only thing that doesn’t make me feeling either paralyzingly numb or like clawing my own eyes out of my skull, screaming, destroying everything around me. I wish I would wake up one morning, my being saturated, brimming with intense sadistic power bestowed upon me by my dark lord Satan, and with those, bring the world crumbling to its knees and rip the still beating hearts from the bosom of any who cross me. And devour them, feeling the warmth spread through me. I, superior to all this.
that would be satisfaction.
(via lordlamebrain)
This is my favorite sketch.
(via scaringbabies)
Re-watching Mad Men Season 2. I must’ve blocked out this chilling image of Peggy’s baby. (Taken with instagram)
UPDATE: It’s Peggy’s sister’s baby, I guess. You’re all missing the point. THAT THING IS OUT THERE SOMEWHERE. And it’s BIGGER NOW.
AIRPLANE HERE TO SEE YOU
(via sabscan)
