every friday the 13th death, in 7 minutes

tripp

::

03 nov 2006 :: 06:48pm

a clever montage of all the friday the 13th deaths. even better when partnered with this post of john's, reviewing every movie in the series.

The blind author of his own blackheartedness.

eric

::

10 jun 2006 :: 03:22pm

Stress is an interesting thing. It affects the mind in unbelievable ways. I've been having two-part dreams lately. Most of the time I don't remember what I dream about, but when I do, it's usually in two parts. Like I'm acting out some kind of play. My dreams lately have been vivid and cryptic.

Even if I don't remember the events in the dream, what I did, or who was with me, the feelings from the dreams linger for days. I'll often wake up angry or afraid. Or feeling suffocated, as though I've been holding my breath underwater for hours.

Maybe it's because I've been seeing a shrink. Maybe it's because I've been rethinking my life and am pushing myself in new directions. I'm challenging beliefs drilled into me since I was born, and those aren't easy to question. Though, at this point in my life, they should be. There are certain times when it's necessary to reinvent ones self, and this is where I am.

A few days ago, I had another one of those two-part dreams. But what made this dream special was that I woke up feeling powerful. It was the first dream I can remember ever having in which I took control of the sequence of events, and wrote my way to my own conclusion.

In every dream I can remember I played the part of the observer, or worse, the victim. I was reacting to events unfolding around me. There have been dreams in which I've fought, but I never won.

I woke from this last dream feeling power over my world. I immediately grabbed my woman and made love to her. I hadn't felt anything like it before, and the feeling hasn't gone away.

THE DREAM

Part One: Fighting my way through hell has made my spirit stronger.

I'm locked in the lobby of an enormous office tower. The air is cold and heavy. There are no windows and the walls are black marble. The ceiling is so high and it is so dark that I can't see how far up it goes. I am completely alone.

I see an elevator door made of polished black steel. It opens and I step inside. I press the only button and a tiny point of amber light glows from the center. The steel walls are polished like mirrors, but I can't see my reflection. A dim fluorescent light spills out from behind the tops of the walls and is the only light.

The doors close and it's completely silent. The elevator rises.

The only sounds are the bell chimes as I pass each floor. They're clear and pure like a meditation. The elevator rises faster as it gets higher. Thousands of bell chimes sound, each one sounding closer to the next as the elevator moves closer to the top. The speed of the ascent pulls my body to the floor. Hours pass and I feel myself grow dizzy at the realization of how high I must be. The floor shakes and the last bell sounds.

The doors open.

I step out into an enormous intestine. As my eyes grow accustomed to my fleshy surroundings, Tiny eyes begin to glow as they peer and chatter at me from the darkness of the flaps and folds in the pink-gray walls. The eyes follow me as I walk through the tube, and my feet slosh through viscous fluid oozing and dripping from every crevice. It winds and splits like a maze, but my instincts tell me which direction to take. I am not worried as I trudge for miles through the goo.

Then a massive black stone door blocks my path. As I approach, I tell it to open. The door opens and I am gripped by a vacuum that pulls me toward the threshold. I stare out into space. The stars are bright and huge. It is cold, and I am sucked into the void, but I am not afraid. I gain a foothold on a passing asteroid.

As I gaze into the nothingness around me, a villain approaches me. It is riding on top of a small asteroid. His black steel suit is demonic, and he points at me because he is ready to fight. His movements are fluidly robotic as he picks up a large rock to hurl at me. I had only one thought…

There is no way this can be real. I should be somewhere else instead of breathing in space. This fight is over and I win because I do not believe in you.

And I am somewhere else.

Part Two: Everyone is now a guest in my reality, and they'd better fucking show some respect.

I am in the lobby of an elegant hotel. The walls are white marble, and grand white fountains splash cool water from the mouths of cherubs into crystal pools. Ferns and assorted exotic green plants everywhere are luscious and flowering in vivid colors. The perfect California day shines in through high windows. People are busy everywhere.

And I am butt naked.

As I walk through the lobby toward the courtyard outside, porters and bellhops spot me and jump to attention.

"Good to see you again, sir. May I get you a robe? How about your favorite drink? I trust you had a pleasant trip. Did you find any treasure?"

"I am ready for a swim," I tell them, and walk down the white steps and outside into the courtyard.

Outside, there are four swimming pools stacked next to each other in a square. They are crystal clear. The hotel guests watch as I stroll to the edge of the first and dive in. It is a flawless dive. I swim to the other side, get out, and dive into the second. I swim to the other side, swimming through the third and fourth pools, until I am back where I started. I feel refreshed and confident.

From the pools I walk, naked and dripping wet, up a flight of marble steps to an area where people are enjoying breakfast at tables with large green umbrellas. My wife and her boyfriend are there. I sit down in an empty seat at their table. She is eating eggs and juice, and he is having thick slices of toast cut into triangles. I pick up one of his slices of toast and take a big bite out of the middle, tossing the rest back onto his plate.

They stares at me with wonder and fear as I stand up without a word and walk away.

a review of 'alfred hitchcock's the birds' (among other things)

tripp

::

02 jun 2006 :: 07:26pm

1. 'the birds'. finished watching it last night. we had stopped it at the perfect point — the scene right before everything goes nuts.

its an interesting film — the build-up is slow and tedious; the first act is far too long. but once the film is out of the gate, it is quite enjoyable.

the last couple of scenes are the most striking ones for me, mainly because of what they represent — the first survival horror movie.

for those of you unfamilar, the sub-genre of 'survival horror' is 'a prominent video game genre in which the player has to survive an onslaught of opponents, often undead or otherwise supernatural, typically in claustrophobic environments in a third-person perspective.'

i think it works in gaming because of the association of the player with the main character of the game; this association is more difficult to obtain in movies because the characters are not controllable by the audience/player.

but its exactly what 'the birds' is. it was of very little surprise to me to see that 'the birds' was 1963, 'night of the living dead' was 1968. there is no way that 'the birds' did not influence 'night of the living dead'; simply replace birds with zombies/ghouls.

i was unable to find any text suggesting 'the birds' as the start of all of this, but its clear to me.

(it is important to note three differences to previous horror and monster movies: the claustrophobic environment, the swarms of enemies and [my inclusion] the mindlessness of the swarm. earlier horror and sci-fi movies rarely if ever combined these into a single film.)

beyond being impressed at what the movie represented, i had some issues with motivations — the setup for the playground scene was a stretch a bit, the decision to take the convertible was equally as questionable. what bothered me the most about these actions was that i felt that hitchcock knew better; they could be easily fixed. its just that someone didnt sufficiently think to explain away the decisions in the story, thus the setups look contrived.

overall, though, highly recommended especially to see where some of these ideas that are so commonplace now orginated from. b+

2. the other thing. i just got spam that, i kid you not, is mostly a paragraph of 'anna karenina'. mike has emailed me with some weird spam he has gotten recently; this certainly takes the cake for the weirdest spam i have gotten in a while. (with a subject of: 'If you don't love everybody, you can't sell anybody' and an opening of 'Hail!')