One creepy ass fricken movie

Not a horror fan per se. I watched this one again the other night though: Vampyr- Der Traum des Allan Grey. Highly, highly, highly recommended. Just keep in mind it was filmed in 1932 and it is a foreign film. Still, the itentional use of darkness and shadows is simply amazing and the subsequent effect is flat out freaky.

Watch it with the lights out.

Bangin' Away

Still here. Blogging for this ol' boy is straight up Squaresville so I'll be keeping it to a minimum. Been working hard, if only in my noggin most the time, and I've got some doooozies percolating- keep your eyes peeled.

To my pards out there who've be gracious enough to check in from time to time...well, you know how I feel about all that.

See you on the flip side, amigos.

That Time of the Year

Working out this morning sounded like a drag- ixnay. I rolled into work early, juiced up my computer and strolled through some of my favo' blogs. Can definitely tell it's the crazy season. Summer is on the way out. Cat's are fried, nervous systems sayin' "it's you or me, pal". Time off for some muchachos I know- well deserved and we'll be here, waitin' for ya.

Then you got David Barber and his big ol' brass one's holding a big ol' tarantula. You are a better man than I, DB.

Me? Had some mind flashes last night and this morning- much needed.

See ya on the flip.

Valhalla Rising- The Movie

A few weeks ago, bored out my ass, I was flipping through movies on demand. Crap and more crap. I wanted- needed something different. I saw this Indie flick. Looked dark, matched the mood. Couldn't possibly be worse than another romantic comedy or yet one more cop movie based in, and sorry for this New Yorker's, New fucking York.

I was skeptical. The preview talked about Vikings. When I think of Vikings, I think of twenty-first century nerds wanting to be Vikings. Don't ask me why...it's one of those people with webbed feet things; nothing wrong with 'em, just keep 'em to yourself.

Valhalla Rising. I watched it with a freind of mine- Ezra Brooks- and tripped. Those first thirty minutes- as brutal and vicious as anything I've seen on film in a long time.

The film stars Mads Mikkelsen as One Eye, an imprisoned Norse warrior who lives a horrendous life, a marginal existence consisting of fighting to the death. Eventually he escapes his captors and travelling with a boy called Are, hooks up with some Christian Vikings and heads to the Holy Land. Only they never make it to the Holy Land.

Along the way there are some dry spots to endure due to lack of dialogue and action, but if you can allow yourself inside the head of One Eye there is a payoff.

And that's my review. Yeah, it's a lame critique because I think movie summaries are best left to the end viewer. And, although it's cliche, I'll add that Valhalla Rising will be one of those movies you either love or hate. Film junkies will dig the cinemetograpy if nothing else. As for all you psuedo tough guys saying "Vikings are for pansies"...to you I stick my tongue out in condescension and make a fart sound.

On that note, I'll sum up as thus: if you don't mind a journey into the strange, and you're ready to step outside your comfort zone then Valhalla Rising just might be the beverage you're thirsting for.

Ezra Brooks is optional. Recommended

Release

Sometimes a man just wants to disappear. Right now, on the brink of another season, nothing sounds better than taking my Marlin 336 and walking for hours, days, through a lonesome pasture or hill country. Live alone. Eat simple. Write and read on my own clock. Unload the working class monkey.

Exist for the day and the moment with only myself to rely on.

But life takes over, reminds me. Commitments. Loved ones.

As a remedy I’ve delved into the past. Digging into my family history which is murky, shady and rarely mentioned by others in the clan. Reading books about a bygone time when people lived by the heels of their boots and the strength of their backs. And writing about the same. I do not mind straying from a path, not always knowing where I’m headed.

Sooner or later, we always get to where we are supposed to be.

Five Kilos at Thuglit

Bittersweet success: THUGLIT ISSUE 38 is out. In it, you'll find my very own Five Kilos. A lot of work went into this bad boy. Having Big Daddy Thug say he dug it was like a cold beer on a hot day. Yeah, it was that good.

Why bittersweet? This may be Thuglit's last issue. They're on hiatus per a message from the big man himself (pictured above). Hey, it happens. All I can do is wish them luck and hope they'll be back.

So check out Five Kilos, mi amigos, and let me know what you think. If you like it, tell a friend. If you don't like it, tell a friend anyhow; they might have better taste than you.

Stay chill.

Our Rock Star

So yesterday I'm dickin' around at work and I get this email from my wife. I open it up and there's these pictures of our dog, Rocky. Just look at that face. Yeah, I'm a certified sucker for cutie pie animal pic's.

I've probably mentioned this story before; Rocky's an old dog nobody wanted anymore. We weren't even in the market for a fricken dog, but what could I do?

Add one dog to the Wilkerson litter.

It's month or so after we took in Rocky when one of our cats, Buddy J, passed. He was another animal nobody wanted but I couldn't see him go to a pound.

Now we're down to one cat- Kitty.

Kitty is a bitch. But, she's been with us since we were living in a thirty year old, fifth hand single-wide trailer, located in the middle of a pasture in Kansas. An old farmer stopped by, asked us if we wanted this little black kitty. I didn't want a cat. Growing up out in the country, I always had dogs and maybe some feral cats to keep mice and rats away. The farmer already had too many cats in his barn and he was gonna take this black cat down to the pond and drown her (just the way things are done back home). Again, what could I do?

Back to Rocky. The ladies man. The little guy follows my wife everywhere. Everywhere! When Tasha leaves the house, he stares at the door. When she walks out of the room, all you hear is the clicking of his paws on our terrazzo floor. He's so obsessive, I'm sure the little shit has dreams of them running through fields of wildflowers together, sans ol' Mike here. So what if he eats some cat poop from time to time? Any animal that loves my wife this much is coolie cool. And while I don't have a picture of the elusive Kitty, I thought I'd give you a picture of our Rock star.

Stay chill.