failure after failure

i could design all this shit so much better, i could make movies that are so much better than the shit i've been seeing. i don't know why i can't.

i wish i could just get started doing it myself, but... the thoughts evade me. but i know i'm sick of hearing rap music in movies. i'm sick of being the only morning person alive. the only sober person. the only metalhead nudist.

i picture customs and things being so many different ways than they are. i'm sick of shaking hands, talking about the past, and wearing clothing. i want nudity to be the norm. i want 'talking about the future' to be the norm. and goddamnit, stop shaking my fucking hand and calling me bro and asking me for fucking drugs and telling me about your fucking drug habits and then telling me how i'm wrong, there are peope out there shooting heroin and spelling the word 'you' with the letter 'u', and you're giving me shit? calling my body indecent just because you fear your own and can't possibly conceive of breaking a fuckin rule? wow, and then you're bold enough to talk to me in the first place like it's your job... man, how deep does it go? i got lost at the handshake.

so how the fuck do i do this? if i can't have a real company, make it fictional? create cultural customs in a fuckin movie? where the fuck do i start?

i'm all alone, no one else is even thinking this, but then again, that's how... "the best stories" are written... aren't they? some dude, sitting at a typewriter, pissed at the world, conceives something better? what more did i need, writing training? no, actually, i feel like all their rules are bullshit, and i know for a fact i would disagree with any writing teacher had i even taken a class... so what, i need to conceive of an entirely new writing format and set of rules then? what the fuck territory am i trying to discover here? and why? do i even still know?

is it anything other than my increasing displeasure in anything this world has to offer me? i'm tired of talking to myself, but... who else is here?

has anyone read anything and responded in the last fifty fuckin years? with anything more than 'that's cool, i like the end'. i always want to hear what it made people picture in their heads, they never fucking say it, i don't think they know how. does it even make them picture anything in their fuckin television heads? have i wasted every word on the wrong ears? how the fuck do you define utopia to a neanderthal?

whilst breaking all their rules...

how much fuel does this fuckin brain need to get this accomplished? and what types of fuel? how much weed, how many tamales, how much vagina? how many emotional wounds need to be healed first? would that even help, or just hinder the ultimate message? are these questions even relevant if no one is fucking here to answer them!

why the fuck did i get a brain. life would have been better without it. give me a wheelchair and a fuckin frosty pop, some trailer trash twit pushin me around. at least then, i might get to see a boob once in a purple fuckin aeon.

all this heart does is hurt. all this stupid brain does is picture better shit that it sees. throw em both down a fuckin garbage disposal. they don't earn a fuckin dime, or half an eyeball of interest.

fuck it then. i can type with my eyes closed. close your fuckin eyes, asshole. picture that shit and type it the fuck up. doesn't matter where it starts.

boobs.

we'll start there.

i'm sick of... every movie... when the killer comes in to do the monofuckinlogue... can't you say anything better, man? i've always thought it was much more intimidating to say nothing at all, but, keep doing it your way. i mean fuck, i'm even sick of existing on a planet where criminals and cops even exist, they have to fight eachother over petty shit like drugs, when it turns out, the cops are the ones putting the drugs on the street, and every time they get close to getting in trouble, they frame the stupid uninformed norms, creating 'criminals', and that battle rages on long enough that people actually start thinking that the criminals are actually the criminals, when the criminals are just selling the drugs the cops give them, and taking the blame for any fuckups, and then they all go and make fuckin movies out of this shit, and that money goes back to the drugs, because the people have to be on drugs while they're watching the fuckin movies, so they don't put the 'evidence' together and figure out that they're being fucked... hahahaha, i get it. two plus two equals two fuckin brain cells you used to shit this idea out of your fuckin head, right?

makes you wonder who's on more drugs, those in control, or the slaves who don't know they're slaves. either way, both sides are being played like a burning violin with black fingers, and... okay, i'm almost referring to jimi hendrix, you can go ahead and think that if you want, it would be pretty cool, and psychedelic, but... i'm thinkin' more along the lines of... whoever played the devil in stephen king's 'the stand'. human form, not big and red. that dude looked more like an actual satan in the flesh to me than even pinhead when i was a kid.

but i'm sick of the dialogue. i'm sick of the... the looks... the normalcy of everything, the fact that even that satan, the most evil satan portrayed on screen... was some normal fuckin dude in fuckin blue jeans, man. al pachino in the devil's advocate? seriously? or the old dude in ghost rider, man, come on, when is your fictional satan ever gonna look like a fuckin metalhead? even blackheart in ghost rider had fuckin short hair! and it was ricky fuckin fitts! how come all the younger actors from american beauty lost their careers after that movie? ghost world, ghost rider, pretty much everyone but scarlett johansson got fucked by that movie, because she wasn't actually in it... she was in ghost world... there's a little twist, what does that tell you? and the kid, the guy from ghost world fuckin died. from drugs. i call that evidence.

evidence that someone's a fuckin moron in stephen hawking's wheels.

they are actors, afterall. and society thinks cia agents can't pose as actors. the stories don't come from their 'stories'.

has anyone ever counted how many movies out there are about the cia, compared to the total number of movies out there? i'd love to see that little pie chart. hmm.

why do we find that shit interesting? why do we pay to see a movie about the cia? and walk out of the theater thinking it's fictional?

exactly how enslaved are we? how hypnotized?

go ahead, list em off. start with the red movies with bruce willis, the best fictional cia agent we know of.

okay, maybe i put a little too much in that last joke, don't try and think about it, just move on, or i'll lose your attention and you'll have a hemorrhage. take a deep breath, look at the spinning black and white spiral thing, and we're back.

classy. like foldgers coffee after an assassination. what did they call that in fight club? a changeover? something like that?

so... i could keep wondering when we're gonna get a little truth in our movies, or... better music at least... more nudity, less violence... more plot, less dialogue. and goddamnit, when am i gonna get to see 'shock value' in porn? they always cut those scenes, and the camera man is drunk, but then you go and watch a movie to get a little more plot with your boobs, but then there's no fuckin boobs! what a frustrating fuckin ripoff! why do prostitutes cost money? can anyone explain that to me? i think i ditched that class, please, fill me in. no pun intended. at least, not right there.

a little lower, maybe, depending on where your mind is right now. if you're in the kitchen, you're very very cold.

unless you're thinkin' salame. how the fuck do you spell salame. is it like bologna? any hidden letters in there?

that's another thing i've always hated. silent letters and shit. redundant syllables. that's a concept. how inefficient is our language? the platform on which we build this fuckin viral illusion. i don't mean viral as in youtoob, i mean viral as in what the earth feels with all these humans crawling around on it. i've had body lice, i sympathize.

like someone's last name could be pronounced 'con', but you spell it 'caouaghhaannnn'. did you stutter on the paper? how the fuck did you accomplish that, is that what the vomit looked like when it hit the signature line? i don't get it. oh, it was alphabet soup, wasn't it? or you were pissed at the spelling bee teacher? you had a crush on her, didn't you? you little nuggin, you. i don't blame you, she was hot.

okay, i got lost after boobs, back up. where am i.

i didn't close my eyes, that's where i fucked up.

let's try this again. no concrete. no coffee. no cops. no capitalism. no dogs. no gods. should i go in alphabetical order?

i can't even figure out where the fuck to start. i keep thinking of starting at how people greet eachother, but i don't know what to connect that to from there... i've heard directors and people talk about... movies need these explanations and things to bring you into the world... i don't think they do.

a lot of the shit i've heard movie people say... and then i watch their movies, and i'm bored thunkless.

seeing the same fuckin movie every time because they can't go outside their hand drawn lines of movie making rules... i've heard these people insult eachother for using voiceovers and shit like that... i don't get it, really, i'm so fuckin lost, i could find my way back to lost, but i gave up.

and see, now my brain is done thinking. it gave up, cause it couldn't make sense of the picture in my fuckin head. i still cannot translate it into... your head.

there are elements i want/need to put in a fuckin movie. my company, in case i never get to create it. just give the few details about it i had so far. like the colours. pink, purple, orange, and turquoise. since that's yet another thing i'm sick of, the default colours that microsoft and apple and google and everyone had to do. the flat icons and flat plain boring bland look that all the tech companies are going for now, taking graphic design away from your desktop, instead of using it more, which is what i have chosen for the last twenty... wait, how long's the internet been around? well, fuck it, windows ninety eight, and now it's twenty eighteen, that's twenty fuckin years, so... yeah, that's about right. why was i the only person who chose a better looking desktop this whole time? for twenty years, bill gates and steve jobs have gotten to rule over people's desktops and digital lives, making the people look just as boring as their digital reflections... or... what would you call that... projection?

what did morpheus say in the matrix, the mental projection of your digital self. something like that. god, it's been too many years since i've seen all those movies. but they still haven't made another fight club since fight club. and how irrelevant is tyler durden now?

go ahead, ask any of your friends, but be careful, whenever you hear a bell ring, a fictional angel dies. how many of those do we have? let's see, we got michael... and that dude... okay, put them over there with holy man, i'm trying to think.

yeah. a world with no gods, no angels, no demons, just a bunch of criminals in politicians' clothing. and whatever the fuck these stupid paycheck things are supposed to fuckin do. i tried putting syrup on it, it still tasted like shit. is that how jesus turned an empty table into bread?

or did he just convince the people to eat the fuckin table. what if christ was just the world's first hypnotist? or magician? what if jesus, houdini, and shakespear were all the same person? who would you have been more fooled by? who would look more like a fraud then?

the people that everyone else loves, i hate. the people i had faith in even gave up on themselves. they've all burned out. the path is dry.

and it's hopeless trying to conceive of anything else, the entire world is just going to consume you, put you on the trend shelf for five minutes, and then the rest of your life is a movie called 'graveyard'. and even worse, it's a movie about fuckin butterflies and clouds.

am i even still making sense? even to myself? can i make sense of this shit? fuckin not really. i can't even start talking about what i picture in the movie, because every time i start, it comes out as... the shit i'm sick of seeing, like i have to explain that every time, before i can even say why i'm picturing something different. the list of shit i hate is too long, and the cool shit i'm picturing has absolutely nothing to connect it with...

fuck, i am lost. fuck this. why am i still typing. just wasting good smoking time.