Bier de Stone ( wrote,
Bier de Stone


My life seems to be getting more interesting, but a hell of a lot more complicated. It's like, it doesn't begin to seem worth living until I put some thought into it. And you know, I pretty much just exist for roaming with my arms extended in from of me (because I seek hugs, and all the beautiful ladies just shrug and run away).

So what is this new fascination for living life that I have? It sure as hell isn't some funny little cartoon that makes me laugh silently in my head while I toil with pen and paper doodling my crazy lines. I wish I could say. However, unless you're willing to share the ups as well as the downs, I don't think it's any of your business considering this blog is still public. Don't be offended avid readers. I don't mean you, especially if you reply to my nonsensical entries. Believe it or not, I stress when I reply to your input, because I really don't want to offend—I love you so much.

So, if you keep up to date, you may get the impression that I might have a touch of bipolar. Why else would I be happy as a clam one moment, and depressed while writing poetry the next? Well, the answer is IN YOUR FULL VIEW. When I clam up, I'm happy. When I compose iambic script, my head hurts, my wrist hurts, my fingers hurt; hence, I'm unhappy. I want apologize for writing in the last couple of entries this: FFFFFFFFF

I saw a great film with two wonderful actors (Jennifer Aniston and Clive Owen). In one sexually intensive scene, Lucinda Harris has this line followed by heavy kissing: "I think I want to fuck you." I would just like to point out that the day the heavy kissing is preceded by the line "I think I want to forget you." which may be predictable whenever the network broadcasting companies decide to seek FCC approval for air time, then you will understand how film makers are using their limitations to make statements. It's the way I look at the cigaret issue. If a movie is labeled R for glamorizing smoking, but OK'd for PG13 if the smoke is portrayed as a health hazard, then the writer is going to ask why the FCC doesn't use CGI to transform the fag (as the English would say) into a straw, or a pencil, or a lollipop. And the smoke? Off the top of my head, the smoke can be overlooked just like the questionable dialog between two people who might proceed to get it on after a line like "Lets forget".

Another scene I liked was in the special features of the DVD. It got cut. You'll see Charles Schine (Shein was the name of my old Perform 450 computer BTW) climb some steps of a court house while speaking into his cell. Right behind him, unknowingly, is Lucinda. As he reaches the top of the steps, Charles stands back to focus on his call when he sees Lucinda, dressed in a trench coat, emerge from the steps. She pauses in a deep stare at him and he at her. Speechless. Lucinda then proceeds forward without a word and Charles' gaze follows her stunned. That's what I call romance, folks. That's what I call love.

I've never met Jennifer Aniston, so I don't know if she exists. Did I tell you? one day, I overheard my older sister comment about something to this effect. "Since I've never been to New York, how do I know if it exists?" And everybody thinks I smoked too much of the ganja. Well, maybe I did pop one too many LSD tabs because Jennifer Aniston may well be a simulation like Simone was in the Andrew Niccol film S1mone (by the way, my home phone is h1de-ids). I would truly love to be given a writing assignment to interview Jennifer Aniston. Does anybody know where I can find a job like that?

Tags: movies

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