8.28.2007
VikingI am a viking.
My rugged Norwegian features are striking.
Think about that hard before you go hiking.
I'm all over those hills, daily and nightly,
Pillaging and plundering, making things unsightly.
Sailing would be a bad idea for you at this time.
I'm gonna take my death vessel and commit a hate crime
I got my loincloth, don't need no pants,
Got a horned helmet for scarin' infants.
Will it ever stop? Yo, I don't know.
Turn off the lights, and I'll be blown away by your advanced technology.
I am a viking.
5:09 PM by Trey | (0)
I don't blink an eye when spending $10-$15 on two fingers of good whiskey. I appreciate the quality and I recognize that I am imbibing something to be savored, and I truly enjoy it, making the cost a factor I am willing to bear. Contrast this with the fact that this morning, for the second time in recent history, I ate eggs that were "less than fresh" before working out and paid the price in bile. Granted, I usually don't do vigorous exercise in New Orleans summer heat after drinking any grade of whiskey, but I think I have learned a lesson. Thusly, next time I go to the grocery sto', rather than eyeing the single-malts and 30-years and fermented-with-the-sweat-of-a-virgin's-brow top-shelf crap, I'm gonna buy a new carton of fucking eggs.
In other words, whiskey ages better than eggs. Or maybe I should just do shots before long bike rides.
On repeat: Ghastly City Sleep
In other words, whiskey ages better than eggs. Or maybe I should just do shots before long bike rides.
On repeat: Ghastly City Sleep
7:41 AM by Trey | (1)
8.25.2007
DAVID LYNCH STOOPS TO COMMERCIALS
SCENE: Smallish suburban bedroom, unnervingly tidy. It is completely quiet.
Out of nowhere, a frenzied man bursts through one of the interior walls, landing inside the room in a pile of broken sheetrock. He is apparently in excruciating pain, grasping at his head, and screaming through clenched teeth. LIke a madman, he whips his head around the room, suddenly focused. His bloodshot eyes focus on his nightstand. Zooming in closer, we see a bottle of pain killers. He leaps over his bed, grabs the bottle, and has gotten the top off almost before he lands. Spilling pills everywhere, he slams the bottle against his agape mouth, swallowing the product. Seconds later, the screaming stops and the man is fast asleep on the bed. Fade to black with Aleve logo.
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SCENE: Looking into a spotless suburban kitchen from another room, with a high, level point of view. Sound of scraping metal to screen left.
We do a flat vertical pan from high to low, revealing the parquet floor is stained with a large puddle of blood. Stay on this shot for about 10 seconds. Scraping sound stops. From screen left, a listless old woman (grandmotherly) trudges across the screen, pushing a Swiffer Wet Jet in front of her through the puddle. As she walks out of frame, we see she has tracked blood across the floor with her orthopedic shoes, despite the fact that the Swiffer has left a spotless shine where it passed. A large white horse follows behind her. Pan back up to original position. Fade to black.
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SCENE: Suburban kitchen, morning.
Comfortable looking suburban housewife, smiling gloriously as she lovingly prepares a tray of breakfast food in slow motion. Incredibly soothing music with angelic female vocals is the only audio. As her husband enters, she turns toward him and glows, figuratively and literally. She excitedly brings over the tray of food as he sits at the breakfast table, also smiling, but in a creepy, unnerving way. The music fades out quickly. Suddenly, his eyes fixate on his tray of food, his face turns dark red, and his whole body starts to visibly shake. Zoom in on his hand scrambling for his fork, clenching it tightly. The housewife panics as she realizes she forgot something very important. Hurrying to the cabinet, she opens it to find the bottle of Aunt Jemima's syrup. She hands it to her husband who instantly calms, but is exhausted from the exertion. He pops open the red top, tips back his head and squeezes the entire bottle into his mouth as syrup runs out of his mouth onto his previously spotless suit, shirt, and tie. The couple look at each other lovingly and smile as the camera pulls back. The angelic music starts up again as the scene fades to white.
SCENE: Smallish suburban bedroom, unnervingly tidy. It is completely quiet.
Out of nowhere, a frenzied man bursts through one of the interior walls, landing inside the room in a pile of broken sheetrock. He is apparently in excruciating pain, grasping at his head, and screaming through clenched teeth. LIke a madman, he whips his head around the room, suddenly focused. His bloodshot eyes focus on his nightstand. Zooming in closer, we see a bottle of pain killers. He leaps over his bed, grabs the bottle, and has gotten the top off almost before he lands. Spilling pills everywhere, he slams the bottle against his agape mouth, swallowing the product. Seconds later, the screaming stops and the man is fast asleep on the bed. Fade to black with Aleve logo.
.
.
.
SCENE: Looking into a spotless suburban kitchen from another room, with a high, level point of view. Sound of scraping metal to screen left.
We do a flat vertical pan from high to low, revealing the parquet floor is stained with a large puddle of blood. Stay on this shot for about 10 seconds. Scraping sound stops. From screen left, a listless old woman (grandmotherly) trudges across the screen, pushing a Swiffer Wet Jet in front of her through the puddle. As she walks out of frame, we see she has tracked blood across the floor with her orthopedic shoes, despite the fact that the Swiffer has left a spotless shine where it passed. A large white horse follows behind her. Pan back up to original position. Fade to black.
.
.
.
SCENE: Suburban kitchen, morning.
Comfortable looking suburban housewife, smiling gloriously as she lovingly prepares a tray of breakfast food in slow motion. Incredibly soothing music with angelic female vocals is the only audio. As her husband enters, she turns toward him and glows, figuratively and literally. She excitedly brings over the tray of food as he sits at the breakfast table, also smiling, but in a creepy, unnerving way. The music fades out quickly. Suddenly, his eyes fixate on his tray of food, his face turns dark red, and his whole body starts to visibly shake. Zoom in on his hand scrambling for his fork, clenching it tightly. The housewife panics as she realizes she forgot something very important. Hurrying to the cabinet, she opens it to find the bottle of Aunt Jemima's syrup. She hands it to her husband who instantly calms, but is exhausted from the exertion. He pops open the red top, tips back his head and squeezes the entire bottle into his mouth as syrup runs out of his mouth onto his previously spotless suit, shirt, and tie. The couple look at each other lovingly and smile as the camera pulls back. The angelic music starts up again as the scene fades to white.
11:02 AM by Trey | (7)
8.22.2007
I'm taking some time out of my busy schedule to give you an update on me. Update time. I'm on a break from the production of my independent homage to the film "Reservoir Dogs." This version is identical to the original movie in plot and dialog, with the small exception that every gun is replaced with a banana, and instead of shooting each other, people just slip on banana peels. Guns just weren't in the budget. I find without all the violence, people can really focus on the real message that I feel that the movie was supposed to deliver: Always tip your waitress. I did, however, keep the scene where the dude gets his ear cut off. It is very graphic. But then it's back to guys in suits slippin' on bananas!
Speaking of slippery situations, I've been pretty good about staying out of prison the last few months. I did go to California last month. That was fun. Wait, no, it was amazing. San Francisco changed everything.
Speaking of amazing, listen to some music that I had a major part in creating. Behold: The Divine Wind (name subject to change). I am playing lead drums. We are recording the vocals soon, at which point I will let you know.
Speaking of slippery situations, I've been pretty good about staying out of prison the last few months. I did go to California last month. That was fun. Wait, no, it was amazing. San Francisco changed everything.
Speaking of amazing, listen to some music that I had a major part in creating. Behold: The Divine Wind (name subject to change). I am playing lead drums. We are recording the vocals soon, at which point I will let you know.
10:30 AM by Trey | (3)
8.08.2007
People always say that you should "rock out with your cock out," but in practice it is not really as well received as you would think. Ah, well. Lesson learned.
3:06 PM by Trey | (1)
