Hopelandic

The pitcher sat half empty. It's thoughts drawing on it's contents. My thoughts: tracing the perfect ring coyly, seducing truth, funding other more lascivious entertainments, or better yet, distractions.
The drought slinked back words coming out of thick air. Little bits of truth expounsed, the virtue in a bottle - a penance sealed with a body and blood - duality of both conscious thought and intentions.
I measure out my intentions on spoons, crinkle them slightly and pour them into a beverage. It's all amount, everything that is, to consumption, devouring the unspoken, the breaths, the pauses, unsettled instances. The broken conscious and colors define the way our acts move in beauteous interpretations the soft sense a misspoken word or unedited sentence can come to an abrupt end.


--George

Like a Mack Truck

I threw up at 2:30 am, or maybe later. The green slimy glow of a digital clock reminding me what the contents of my stomach must have looked like: a diego burrito, yeungling, some beautiful shots that echo a blank stare of forgetfulness, a sweet cup of coffee, bile.
God there was chocolate in that mole sauce. There's must have been. Can you even make mole sauce without chocolate.
The thrill of the vomit is that after a few minutes of menace you feel the comfort of a clean slate. The emptiness that resounds a feeling of something being finally over. Completion. I have finished something.
Maybe it's a tangent, but life gets faster and faster as you get older and older. Your peripherals just cloud up and seem to make you feel like a child staring out the window of a car at the tree line which barely moves, to the grass which is slightly quicker, and as you get closer to the car, the life accelerates.
Except when you puke.

--geo

Tour Day Twenty: Home Sweet Home

Today I have a day off at home. I am going to eat pancakes, do laundry and watch television. Life is good. Warships record comes out November 4th. Buy their record.

God help us

After; superman, transformers, indiana jones, an entire trilogy of star wars movies, lost boys 2, the threat of a warriors remake, colorized psycho, I am legend, planet of the apes, halloween, plus a bunch of others that i have blotted from my mind, my childhood sits shivering in the corner dreading the newest bit of geek news mixed with nostalgia backed by millionaire delinquent or the equivalent of Internet squatters who are trying to exploit a culture of kids who weren't popular in school and didn't kiss girls till their 20's.

It's not about being great;

It's about getting better and Guillermo Del Toro does that with each and every film.

Vision is a limitation if the director does not incorporate the other senses and focus them in a way to exercise the mind. My opinion is that many directors with unique vision, ie Tim Burton, can make spooky looking trees and creepy costumes, but there generally seems to be substance lacking in his movies.

In Del Toro's evolving world, creative vision and writing are subtly honing themselves to a razor sharp acuity.

My review for Hellboy would be something like, if you love a good Terry Gilliam style movie then Del Toro supplies enough visual eye candy with a tight and defined story that is both at once expected and never anticipated.

Hellboy a reviewers review

While some other reviewers only play a game for a frenetic second before their adhd kicks in and they are left but for a moment to gestate in their own conscious while staring into the voidance created by lack of shiny buttons and beatific water effects that are comparable to the bbc planet earth specials, I decided to play Hellboy for a wee bit before making an opinion.

Not gonna lie, I didn't like the game when I first put it on. I started to play it not 24 hours after I beat GTA IV. I was annoyed by the static camera, the controls seemed loose to me, the graphics seemed subpar. But I played on.

The rub with Hellboy is this. It is ghost and goblins without the timed jumping and the two hit your dead mentality. The graphics seem minimal but it lends itself to the esthetic of the game and seems to ring true to the original source material. The camera is static to show a scope of sizes that enemies have i.e. as the game progresses enemies become bigger and more complex.

Look this game isn't a billion dollar coke filled summer blockbuster that makes so much money it becomes it's own economy that can topple most African countries. It's an indie film or more appropriately an indie comic game. Your not getting the semi gloss of an x-men title, your getting the grit of a smash em up, which when compared to the multitude of vapid shooters that have more digital botox and plastic surgery that Carmen Electra's woo-ha, it truly is a breath of freshness. Or shall I say classic gaming?

--george

not gonna lie

Nico Bellic woke up in the bed of his park avenue apartment. He wore the same track suit he had on during the first days of his tragedy. Prometheus fought the shades as Nico tried to pull the vultures of insight away from traumatic yesterdays, keeping most of it away, but a few glares stealing though and taking tomorrows hope away to rookery.

Yesterday was pretty badass. Not gonna lie, I beat GTA IV, and then my gods infinite mercy, I got to see dethklok live in concert. It was amazing. I also bought the picture disc vinyl and I think I am going to frame it in a picture box.

Toki Wartooth thought of Frank Zappa and a vastness spread before accompanied by piano string, klezmer, and fatigue.