One of the reasons why I really wanted to see Bad Santa was cause the idea was just so appealing. Santa Claus doing all sorts of bad shit. That is also why I liked both Hell Boy 2 and Pan’s Labyrinth. Tooth-fairies who devour teeth and a giant insect shaping itself into the traditional figure of a fairy.
Scoobs says that the only way to deal with people in this city is to buy a gun.
There are times when the words run away from me and I sit here and stare at the screen and think of all sorts of shit.
I wonder what you would taste like.
I wonder what birds think of when they are flying. I wonder if they have their own, distinct personalities. There would be those naughty, teenagerish bastards, making sure they poop on people. Sit on a wire at the end of the day and compare number of headshits.
You think there are neurotic birds? Just before landing, they clench their buttocks and mutter “Oh Im gonna die, gonna die gonna die”
I wonder what a bird thinks about when it completes its first flight. You think they would be slightly surprised by it? “Dude wtf. I just flew!!!!”
I wonder what kind of trash talk is exchanged at those places where all the younglings gather to learn flying. The elder kids looking all smug and shit : “20 feet high?? Been there son”. I am sure there would be some piss-in-the-pant type birds as well. The ones who have to be pushed over the edge.
And then the ones with over protective [Indian?] mothers. So you would have this full grown pigeon trying to keep it’s ass in the nest. Waiting for mommy to come back so that he can feed. And papa is doting as well. Probably building another nest for Chottu and his bride. Eating into the pension but who cares, after all humara Chottu hai.
I have often wondered what makes parental love so strong. It must be something in the genes no? How can you possibly love someone who poops and cries and is a generall piss-off most of the time. And not like things get rosier once the pooper grows up. In fac that is when the shit [giving finger to gravity] really hits the cooling mechanism.
Most nights I think about your cold eyes,
And I wish that they would not stare into me.
I think about your wishes and your lies,
And I wish that they would let me be.
They sat by the fire and watched the flame.
Each alone and each the same.
Sometimes a word would be forced out into the silence,
But mostly they sat.