palmerpink

*sigh.* As I'd somewhat feared, Bad Movie Monday failed; instead I'll throw together a half-assed 'Bad Movie Tuesday' even if the corny name doesn't work the same. As I might as well have also promised the other day, this review might be a little disappointing, too. I ended up having to watch/heckle MetalStorm: The Destruction of Jared-Syn  on my own, which proved to be more than just a little difficult. Don't get me wrong; I imagine this movie could have some really great potential. However, it's a little dry. At least, so much so that I--but one, lone, tired homo--couldn't handle it all on his ownsome. Even despite its having a pneumatic gonorrhea discharging dildoman in the cast of villains.

No, not really; I'm just in plain ole boxers this morning. However, here are some brief updates/coming attractions. Bullettime!

So my biffle/roomie has done it again; more loveliness :D Granted, I'm biased, but I really like this. It sounds like a cross between the soundtracks for Braid and Donnie Darko . Parker, of course, insists it's way different or something. Still pretty though. By the way, I got contributed to this one--and, no, not just that flash of me at the end. Parker recorded me typing on mah "broken" typewriter for the end bit. Mhm. Insider info: Parker's actually planning a whole series of videos linked together to tell a story. It's gonna be pretty trippy-sexy from the sound of it. This is actually the second; bonus points if you can figure out what the first is :P

So we've acquired a great deal of furniture from my grandmother's house; we moved her into an assisted living setup and, naturally, sold her home. She'd asked me a month or two back if there was anything I wanted. It didn't take me long. I wanted the desk. The desk. The one from the study off of her bedroom. The one with all kinds of cabinets and drawers and nooks and crannies. Apparently it's nothing but an old country clerk's desk, worth maybe $300--a meager sum compared to much of the rest of the heirlooms, antiques, and art throughout her house. She readily agreed I could have it. Then things got a little messy. Then they got fine. Then they got messy again--differently. Then I learned a little about myself and, prospectively, grew up. It was good times, if a little frustrating.

So I decided that, in the spirit of originality, to declare Mondays henceforth be known on this blog as "Bad Movie Mondays". So that means (at least?) one of my infamous bad movie reviews a week. Hopefully this will force me to start working through my ever growing collection of bad movies/to maybe someday get good at reviewing movies. We'll just have to see, eh? This week's movie is a gay softcore porn/artflick called Laserblast . No, seriously, it's some kind of sci-fi thriller/horror thing--but this kid is ragingly gay. But tragically closetted. As you can tell, I heckled this one with some gay friends. For those of you who'd like a competent review of this movie, please check out my new lovers--though they don't know it yet--over at Mad Mad Mad Mad Movies.

My high school hag used to say that--"Green means 'Go!'!"--and now I say it when I'm on my bike at intersections. It's sort of a declaration to the cosmos that I have some kind of invisible right of way. I also just realized it couldn't get much greener than biking--my carbon footprint is, like, nil or stuff. All this biking has been a new experience for me. Being able to go farther for freer and timelier too is kinda amazing. My legs and ass have never been finer, either. I'm also losing the pudge I put on over the summer. Naturally, though, as a second hand bike, there have been a few hitches here and there. It's a lot like sex (but what isn't?): overall fuckin' great but there's always a thing or two--something the other guy does, some habit or oversight, or maybe it's your bad afterall--that just nags at your ability to quite give over. Kinda cuts into the kinky good times, you know? Especially over time; you thought it'

Sorry, Ms Dickinson, it's not the thing with feathers . The BBC did a lil video on an amateur jetpack enthusiast . It's kind of...sad how hard he's trying. And how much time he's probably put into this. But it's also a bit, um, uplifting? { choke, snorkle, guffaw }

And, yes, I'm going to nickname all my traveling companions "Toto" instead of bothering to learn all their names.

So at American Eagle, we're given something called "call-in" hours in addition to our regular work hours. They're basically like tentative work hours; we call in about an hour before they start to see if the store needs us and if so, we gotta be there or it's just like skipping a regular shift of work. Due to a few recent factors I've ended up working many of mine this week. And how.

So, the time has come. Or, rather, I've made the time come. Because I goddamned feel like it. So anyway: I think I want a (proper) domain name for this blog. And I want your input/thoughts. Now , you fuckers. Not later--NOW. I'm impatient! So, yeah--DO IT FAGGOT. Gimme feedback. (\/ \/ \/ yeah, you should prolly read/skim the rest of the post... \/ \/ \/)

This is a work in progress, inspired by a recent real-life accident . Hopefully there's enough in this poem that you don't need all the background, but I did provide it anyway. Well, here's the original draft of this poem, for simplicity: The train stopped for you As none of us'd suspected When the train jerked-stopped And powered down to quarter-light And the conductor informed us Of a "situation", and not to panic. "Was it terrorists?! Had someone bombed The metrorail system? or taken hostages??" No, no; most of the time, Life's too ordinary for that; No, no; it was just a man Too sad to live, standing On a metro platform, Looking down. afternotes: I was actually on the 8 car train to Glenmont that hit the man in the October 29th incident as mentioned at the beginning of this and timelined here . Because life is just weird like that, I proceeded to do the first of our two Halloween weekend Rocky Horror performances the sam

You know, I've routinely refused to watch Glee. Like whoa. I've seen bits, it's amusing, but not my thing. Plus how can I be a properly pretentions intellectual fag if I don't look down on & snub snobbily some ragingly popular thing?? It's just not proper decorum, really. I'm also in a Rocky Horror Picture Show shadowcast (website in progress, but that's us :)). Naturally, they were all excited about that Glee episode when they first heard about it; I on the other hand gave a pained smile and said "Isn't that special. I'm still not watching it." Part of me's pretty glad I didn't, frankly. (hah! get it? like Tim Curry.)