two passages from "Call Me By Your Name" that really get to me.
Chiagneva sempe ca durmeva sola,
mo dorme co' li muorte accompagnata
She always wept because she slept alone,
Now she sleeps among the dead
I can, from the distance of years now, still think I'm hearing the voices of two young men singing these words in Neapolitan toward daybreak, neither realizing, as they held each other and kissed again and again on the dark lanes of old Rome, that is was the last night they would ever make love again.
"Tomorrow let's go to San Clemente," I said.
"Tomorrow is today," he replied.
and
"I'm like you," he said. "I remember everything."
I stopped for a second. If you remember everything, I wanted to say, and if you are really like me, then before you leave tomorrow, or when you're just ready to shut the door of the taxi and have already said goodbye to everyone else and there's not a thing left to say in this life, then, just this once, turn to me, even in jest, or as an afterthought, which would have meant everything to me when we were together, and, as you did back then, look me in the face, hold my gaze, and call me by your name.
The entire book is just good. A summer romance that is done by the fall, but lingers still over the years. I found that I could relate a lot to the feelings presented in this piece of work and I think that's why I find myself growing sad when I read it. Though I read it to remind me of him, even if I should just as well forget.
16.2.11
15.2.11
work in progress
i need to post what i have thus far. i really need to get my head back into my actual work, work. not having any bosses around has been good for my creative productivity, but not so much on my actual “hey, this is gonna get you a paycheck” sort of productivity. so i’m posting what i have thus far so that when i finish work and go home, i can pick it back up.
—
Are you going to betray me?
There was only the slightest of hesitations before she gave her answer. It was an honest hesitation. He knew it. He knew an immediate answer would have been a lie. He knew one that took longer to give than she had would have also been a lie. Everything fell into place as it should have.
She thought about it for a moment. Did he know what was going through her head during this brief passing of time? No, probably not. It didn’t matter. She leaned upwards with her mind made up and kissed him.
Sunlight filtered through the cracks in the shades covering the windows in his room. It danced and bobbed on her exposed flesh. She was warm. He was alive. They made love for the second time since crawling into bed together the night prior.
It was decided then.
the tragic ballad of tomas vega
an ink story
by corey fleming
He came to her because he required the special services that only she and her kind could provide. Did he, on occasion, take advantage of her otherworldly beauty and physique? Sure. He was only human, and a man at that. He knew that he would be given a hard time the next time he saw Elias, but it didn’t bother him all that much. Elias, he figured, should be the one here seeking the services of an Undine over him. Unlike Elias, he was a master at keeping his cool. He was a master at caging the beast.
If that’s true, why are you here? He swatted the thought away as the door closed behind him. It was always the same room. It was dark, almost to the point of pitch blackness, and cold. He knew she would be seated in her customary place near the wall furthest from the door.
“You’re here early Tomas,” she said. He could feel her cool eyes on his body, sharp and intent.
“Can’t get enough of you, you know that.” He smirked as he pulled off his jacket, letting it fall to the floor. There was hardly any furniture in the room. Most of the rooms had at least a coat rack or small bench for clients to set their clothes on. Not her.
“I’m not so sure about that one Tomas.” He could hear her shift from her position. “The blonde I’ve seen you with makes me think otherwise.”
Tomas furrowed his brow. “I need a quick a session.” He was not about to get dragged into discussing Faye with her. Nothing so emotional with an Undine.
Sensing his discomfort with the subject, Namine eased the lights on. Not nearly bright enough to expose everything there was to see, but enough for him to make his way to the brass basin situated in the center of the open room.
It was still a shock to him, despite the numerous times he frequented her place, to see the room’s interior. The walls bobbed and pulsed like a river with a lazy current. The various shades of blue overlapping and mixing with one another truly gave off the feeling that one was actually under the water. This was impossible, considering the building had no basement. In fact, he was on the second floor. The lights were small pulsating strings, wafting close to the walls, as if they too were part of the underwater scenery.
He had heard of some of the other Undine in the place simulating water life into their rooms, small fish and coral fixated in the walls, but he preferred the way Namine had made hers. Vast and open, a seemingly endless expanse of nothing but water. Less busy.
“You know the drill then,” she said, watching as he had already started peeling off the layers of his clothes. Tie. Shirt. Shoes. Socks. Pants. Everything went until he was as naked as he was the day his mother had birthed him.
Most of her other clients grew erect at this point. She was, after all, quite an alluring creature to witness. There were no clothes covering her dark blue frame, most Undine had no need for clothes. Those in her line of work needed them even less. She was taller for one of her kind, and slender. Most Undine are small and slight of build, making a shorter human woman feel not as small as she actually is. Like the walls in the room, her flesh seemed to pulse and shift with every moment, like ripples on a pond. Full lips, almond eyes and a head of thick, long dark blue hair rounded out her already exotic appearance. Yes, most of her clientele made obvious their attraction to her.
Not Tomas. He hadn’t even gotten hard the first time they had performed this little deed together. He was a consummate professional and, even she had to admit, that detail irritated her. She lost the leverage she had over most of her clients when she was with him. He gave off nothing and always remained a closed book to her.
She stood and motioned to the basin as she moved toward him. He climbed into the empty tub, goose flesh rising over him as the cold metal inside greeted him. Tomas closed his eyes and let his breaths come in slow, rhythmic intervals. He was getting relaxed.
Namine looked down on him and afforded a small smile. He was so unlike her others. So different from the men who came to her seeking pleasure from the bonds an Undine could share with a mortal man. The temptations and promises that they could fulfill in ways no other woman could. And while she never tired of such liaisons, she appreciated her connection with this one far greater than her other dalliances. It was always a new discovery with Tomas.
“Are you ready, Tomas?” She stroked at his forehead. He was so cold.
“I’m ready.”
Namine brought her hand down the length of his face, droplets of water trailing in her wake. Little-by-little her features grew more and more translucent. They lost definition and firm shape. She grew warmer. When she felt the change start to travel up her arm, she leaned down, quite literally pouring herself atop him and into the basin. Water filled the tub. Namine filled the tub.
Tomas managed a soft, content sigh as the warm water flowed around him. It was an unusual feeling to find yourself suddenly buoyant amidst liquid you knew to be alive. For the most part, it was as if someone had poured hot water over him. Unlike bath water from a spout, the water that was Namine was thicker and softer. Not gel-like in any shape, but not exactly pure running liquid. There was still an indefinable firmness to it.
The Undine ran over every inch of his flesh, tugging gently this way and that, pouring herself into every open pore of flesh. Her voice echoed in his mind.
Relax Tomas. Let me in.
Hearing her soft words, he let himself be pulled completely down into the water. She smothered his face with her warmth. He held his breath, preparing himself for the part that always seemed the most jarring. Clients that had been seeing her for years longer than the man presently occupying her tub still had trouble with the part that came next. It was just so natural a thing not to do.
Tomas was different. With only the slightest of hesitations, he inhaled. The liquid filled his nostrils and slid with ease down his throat. He did not squirm or thrash like so many others did. He remained poised and calm. In total control. He was always in control.
And then, there was darkness.
—
Are you going to betray me?
There was only the slightest of hesitations before she gave her answer. It was an honest hesitation. He knew it. He knew an immediate answer would have been a lie. He knew one that took longer to give than she had would have also been a lie. Everything fell into place as it should have.
She thought about it for a moment. Did he know what was going through her head during this brief passing of time? No, probably not. It didn’t matter. She leaned upwards with her mind made up and kissed him.
Sunlight filtered through the cracks in the shades covering the windows in his room. It danced and bobbed on her exposed flesh. She was warm. He was alive. They made love for the second time since crawling into bed together the night prior.
It was decided then.
the tragic ballad of tomas vega
an ink story
by corey fleming
He came to her because he required the special services that only she and her kind could provide. Did he, on occasion, take advantage of her otherworldly beauty and physique? Sure. He was only human, and a man at that. He knew that he would be given a hard time the next time he saw Elias, but it didn’t bother him all that much. Elias, he figured, should be the one here seeking the services of an Undine over him. Unlike Elias, he was a master at keeping his cool. He was a master at caging the beast.
If that’s true, why are you here? He swatted the thought away as the door closed behind him. It was always the same room. It was dark, almost to the point of pitch blackness, and cold. He knew she would be seated in her customary place near the wall furthest from the door.
“You’re here early Tomas,” she said. He could feel her cool eyes on his body, sharp and intent.
“Can’t get enough of you, you know that.” He smirked as he pulled off his jacket, letting it fall to the floor. There was hardly any furniture in the room. Most of the rooms had at least a coat rack or small bench for clients to set their clothes on. Not her.
“I’m not so sure about that one Tomas.” He could hear her shift from her position. “The blonde I’ve seen you with makes me think otherwise.”
Tomas furrowed his brow. “I need a quick a session.” He was not about to get dragged into discussing Faye with her. Nothing so emotional with an Undine.
Sensing his discomfort with the subject, Namine eased the lights on. Not nearly bright enough to expose everything there was to see, but enough for him to make his way to the brass basin situated in the center of the open room.
It was still a shock to him, despite the numerous times he frequented her place, to see the room’s interior. The walls bobbed and pulsed like a river with a lazy current. The various shades of blue overlapping and mixing with one another truly gave off the feeling that one was actually under the water. This was impossible, considering the building had no basement. In fact, he was on the second floor. The lights were small pulsating strings, wafting close to the walls, as if they too were part of the underwater scenery.
He had heard of some of the other Undine in the place simulating water life into their rooms, small fish and coral fixated in the walls, but he preferred the way Namine had made hers. Vast and open, a seemingly endless expanse of nothing but water. Less busy.
“You know the drill then,” she said, watching as he had already started peeling off the layers of his clothes. Tie. Shirt. Shoes. Socks. Pants. Everything went until he was as naked as he was the day his mother had birthed him.
Most of her other clients grew erect at this point. She was, after all, quite an alluring creature to witness. There were no clothes covering her dark blue frame, most Undine had no need for clothes. Those in her line of work needed them even less. She was taller for one of her kind, and slender. Most Undine are small and slight of build, making a shorter human woman feel not as small as she actually is. Like the walls in the room, her flesh seemed to pulse and shift with every moment, like ripples on a pond. Full lips, almond eyes and a head of thick, long dark blue hair rounded out her already exotic appearance. Yes, most of her clientele made obvious their attraction to her.
Not Tomas. He hadn’t even gotten hard the first time they had performed this little deed together. He was a consummate professional and, even she had to admit, that detail irritated her. She lost the leverage she had over most of her clients when she was with him. He gave off nothing and always remained a closed book to her.
She stood and motioned to the basin as she moved toward him. He climbed into the empty tub, goose flesh rising over him as the cold metal inside greeted him. Tomas closed his eyes and let his breaths come in slow, rhythmic intervals. He was getting relaxed.
Namine looked down on him and afforded a small smile. He was so unlike her others. So different from the men who came to her seeking pleasure from the bonds an Undine could share with a mortal man. The temptations and promises that they could fulfill in ways no other woman could. And while she never tired of such liaisons, she appreciated her connection with this one far greater than her other dalliances. It was always a new discovery with Tomas.
“Are you ready, Tomas?” She stroked at his forehead. He was so cold.
“I’m ready.”
Namine brought her hand down the length of his face, droplets of water trailing in her wake. Little-by-little her features grew more and more translucent. They lost definition and firm shape. She grew warmer. When she felt the change start to travel up her arm, she leaned down, quite literally pouring herself atop him and into the basin. Water filled the tub. Namine filled the tub.
Tomas managed a soft, content sigh as the warm water flowed around him. It was an unusual feeling to find yourself suddenly buoyant amidst liquid you knew to be alive. For the most part, it was as if someone had poured hot water over him. Unlike bath water from a spout, the water that was Namine was thicker and softer. Not gel-like in any shape, but not exactly pure running liquid. There was still an indefinable firmness to it.
The Undine ran over every inch of his flesh, tugging gently this way and that, pouring herself into every open pore of flesh. Her voice echoed in his mind.
Relax Tomas. Let me in.
Hearing her soft words, he let himself be pulled completely down into the water. She smothered his face with her warmth. He held his breath, preparing himself for the part that always seemed the most jarring. Clients that had been seeing her for years longer than the man presently occupying her tub still had trouble with the part that came next. It was just so natural a thing not to do.
Tomas was different. With only the slightest of hesitations, he inhaled. The liquid filled his nostrils and slid with ease down his throat. He did not squirm or thrash like so many others did. He remained poised and calm. In total control. He was always in control.
And then, there was darkness.
2.2.11
II
I don’t like stereotypes, but I know they exist for a reason. I don’t think I’ve ever really fallen into the stereotype of what most mainstream, straight people slap on a gay guy.
Stereotypes. That’s where I was. And that’s where I’m going to leave it.
My mind is bouncing all over the place because I’m not completely sure where to pick this back up again. I know my goal with this is to give my thought some form and presence. Something I can look back on, if I need to, just to remind me.
People say we have a past so we can look back on it from time to time and learn from it. Learn and move on. For whatever reason, I find that one of my feet seems to have gotten caught in an exposed tree root and I just can’t seem to move past it. Tug, tug, tug.
2006.
And now we get to it. The magical year. The year that held the story I thought I needed to tell. The one I wanted to write out in some grand, epic novel of self-discovery. A novel of a boy walking down that winding road of Life. A novel of love and loss, happiness and sorrow, excitement and terror. Only it’s been just recently that I’ve come to realize that this particular story doesn’t need to be hashed out in some emotional, Oprah’s Book Club novel. This story isn’t all that unique or worthy of that kind of accolade.
After my first full on sexual encounter with another guy, I realized that the next time it happened, I wanted it to be with someone I actually liked. Not just someone who happened to be available.
I had tried, prior to Isaiah, my hand at possibly “dating” someone. We met online, naturally, and set up a dinner date. In a random twist of events, we ended up at the
Coming into the New Year, I realized that I wanted to try an actual, honest, in the light relationship with another guy. A friend of a friend (I can’t even recall her name now) introduced me to one of her co-workers and suggested that we go out. He (I can’t even remember his name now) had just moved to
So we went out on a couple dates. Typical affair really. Dinner, a movie or two. The last time I recall ever seeing the guy was the morning after a movie-night he and his roommate held at their house. We had woken up and proceeded to fool around a bit. I had forgotten about a prior commitment I had that morning, so I didn’t realize the time. By the time I did realize what time it was, I had two choices: finish him off and leave and be late or….leave immediately and make it on time.
Looking back on it now, I’m pretty sure the fizzle and dying out of our communication was due to the choice I made that morning. (Or it could be, as I found out later on, that it was because he was a total crystal meth addict)
After Meth Head, I tried the online thing again. Friends of friends, I thought, could be so unreliable. I came across this nice-sounding guy and we talked a lot over the course of a couple weeks. We did the traditional crap. Movies. Dinner. Talked.
I recall one night we were walking in a park, just talking. We were walking kind of side-by-side, but not holding hands or really doing anything that would have signaled to anyone to think “hey, look! Two gays!”. At any rate, we’re walking along and this truck pulls up beside us. The next thing I know, he and I are being pelted by key limes and being called not-so-nice things. It got me pissed, but he was more passive and chalked it up to “high school shenanigans”.
That was also the same night I discovered he couldn’t kiss worth a damn. He was the type to like…devour your face when kissing. His mouth was all teeth and spit and it was just…no. It didn’t really matter because things died before anything could really begin. He had come out to his parents (something I still hadn’t done yet) and they flipped. They pushed him into some sort of ridiculous “de-gayification” Christian counseling crap. He voluntarily joined. He told me that he felt he really needed to get over that kind of thing. (Two years later I found he totally ditched the whole “ex-gay” thing and came to terms with who he was born to be)
By this point I was a little flustered. Zero for four. Think about it for a second though. Most straight guys are already accustomed to dating and working relationships and meeting people by the time they graduate high school. Why shouldn’t they be? No one looks down on a “normal”, “socially accepted” male-female relationship. All of this was new to me at 19 and it was an awkward touch and go kind of game.
I didn’t give up though. I was determined to find a guy I could connect with at any cost. I never really stopped to think why I felt I needed to be with a guy. At that point, having just come into my sexuality and, being a young guy, I felt that it was probably the most important thing I should be focusing on. School? Been there, done that. Work? I was working for my mom again. Nothing exciting about that.
What about writing? I was putting words together here and there, but nothing really stuck. I think my desire to be in a relationship, at that point, outweighed my dream of getting work published. That and I hadn’t yet been hit with something I felt could make that great of a story.
I was just checking my deviantART account to see what I had been writing around that time. Nothing. There is a lull from Dec 2004 and it finally picks back up again on June 2006. So I guess I hadn’t written anything that I published to an online source. Even the old hard-drive that I had Ryan recently comb through didn’t have exactly what I had hoped for. That has nothing to do with this though. So…
With writing taking a back seat and my best friend still living in
In this lull between the two aforementioned guys, I thought I really wanted to pursue him. Naturally he was taken, so he became shelf-candy to be ogled at and dreamt about. Nothing serious could ever come of that, right? Well, yeah but that didn’t stop me from wishing. Still, it was nice to just have a gay friend because those were on short supply in my life. Looking back on it now, it was through
It was toward the end of May and I was house sitting for a co-worker of mine while she and her husband spent the weekend in Vegas. She had given me full access to whatever I wanted while I was there, most especially her booze cabinet. I had expressed my dismay with
He remedied it, but I need to stop for now. I really, REALLY need to get something done. I’ll probably post later after the hockey game tonight.
1.2.11
I
I’m too unfocused. Earlier today I told myself that when I get home from work I need to sit down and continue with this writing project I’ve been putting together. After mulling that idea over, I thought to myself that it would probably be better if I just blog. I’m not one who likes to force moments; especially moments of true, pure inspiration.
Since 2006 I’ve been writing this thing. That’s not to say everything I’ve written since 2006 is apart of it, but in some form or another the thoughts and ideas that I’ve put into whatever I’ve produced have helped nudge me further and further in the direction this story is demanding to be taken.
The idea, at first, was to write about something completely intimate and personal. Something that I wanted to express to anyone who cared to read; to share in the joys and triumphs, along with the pitfalls and the sadness. It sounds incredibly cliché, but it wasn’t until after I graduated high school that I really allowed myself to start to discover just who I was as a person. Prior to that point I think a lot of us are wedged into making decisions and formulating ideas that have been instilled in ourselves by family and close friends because that’s all we know how to do. It’s safe and secure. It’s the known and familiar. With the pressures put on about deciding what you’re going to do for the rest of your life at age 18, I can see why it would be easier to just go with the flow and stick to routine and normalcy.
I’ve never graduated college. I tried it twice. Both times I ended up dropping out. I can’t necessarily pin point it to lack of ambition, general laziness or apathy; or that maybe I was just scared and not ready to face the future. I think it might have been a culmination of all those things. Do I want to go back? Sure I do. Then again, part of me wonders if I just like the idea of being a student again. The idea that I would be doing academic things and advancing myself in a forward direction. That status of studentship and the atmosphere of matriculating with other people who are striving toward their own future goals.
I can’ even stay focused to finish that thought. I feel like I’m getting off track from my original purpose. If I even had one. I’m shooting a thousand thoughts and it’s like they’re all fireflies daring to and fro and I’m trying to catch them with a fishing net.
The idea was to write something personal. I started to come into myself after high school. I learned to formulate my own thoughts and ideas based on my own developing moral code and principles. One of the worst things I can think of is to be a slave to an ideology you haven’t even really given thought about. I started my freshman year of college at EMCC. It lasted two months before I just let it go.
No college? No problem. I got a job in the food service industry. I met some cool, interesting people. People from all different walks of life. Each who, in their own way, left an imprint on my life that would help change and define who I am forever. I know that alone is a grand and powerful statement. How does some no-named co-worker who makes minimum wage in a kitchen, barely speaking English help change and define someone else?
Alright, alright I’m moving into after-school special territory and that’s not what this is about. The point is, I was able to find a way to appreciate not being in school by learning about something else. Living life. Outside of over-priced textbooks and stuffy rooms.
Sometime in 2005 I finally admitted to myself that it was okay for me to be gay. That I didn’t have to feel bad or guilty because of some antiquated belief system that is around, for the most part, to give one group of people a reason to control another. I came out to a select few people. People I knew who would be able to accept me for me without any awkwardness or hatred or what have you. Random thought: I think it’s funny that someone can say “I lost my virginity”. Um, no, you didn’t lose it. You know damn well where it went. One doesn’t “lose” their virginity. It’s given up.
I gave mine on New Year’s Eve, 2005 in the backseat of a car in the middle of the desert to some guy whose face I can barely even remember. Isaiah something or other. I didn’t even like him. It was awkward and messy and we hardly even spoke afterward. Looking back on it, I’d say it seems pretty normal. It’s not like it was a movie or anything. Just two people coming together for a singular moment of intimate pleasure.
The idea was to write something personal.
I don’t like stereotypes, but I know they exist for a reason. I don’t think I’ve ever really fallen into the stereotype of what most mainstream, straight people slap on a gay guy.
I know this is ending abruptly, but I’m too unfocused to continue this tonight. I’ll continue later.
27.12.10
In the past 3 months I have...
been given a raise. aged an entire year. been told to shut up on more than one occasion. made dinner. had dinner made for me. read parts of several books. not finished a book. lied, because I finished "Full Dark, No Stars". lied some more. worn jeans that have widening holes. not thrown said pair of jeans away because they feel too damn good.
written numerous words. written excerpts from 10 possible stories. decided that 10 possible stories is worth next to nothing. downloaded music from iTunes. listened to a lot of music. gone for walks. wished the weather would get colder. worked. worked. worked. worked. worked.
had a white russian or two or three or 10. purchased "In Rainbows" just so I could intermix the tracks with "Ok, Computer" and make one fantasmic album of Radiohead genius. opened presents. talked on the phone. hung up on someone. not gotten sick.
cussed at drivers I passed. wished that whoever planned road construction in this state would die in a fire. fought for the sake of fighting. bitten my nails. dreamed some pretty messed up dreams. been told I will probably be killed by someone. been told I will kill someone.
watched several movies. rearranged the furniture in my bedroom at least 4 times. played World of Warcraft more than I probably should. tried to find my ps2 controller so I can relive the awesome storytelling that is Digital Devil Saga Parts 1 and 2. found said ps2 controller in the closet. not yet relived the awesome storytelling that is DDS 1 and 2. blamed WoW for my lack of playing any other truly better video game in my arsenal.
written no other blog entries, save for this one. exchanged e-mails on the daily. bought the soundtrack to "Black Swan" because Clint Mansell is amazing. worked. worked. worked.
not done anything worth mentioning.
ps: the cake is a lie. and so is your face.
written numerous words. written excerpts from 10 possible stories. decided that 10 possible stories is worth next to nothing. downloaded music from iTunes. listened to a lot of music. gone for walks. wished the weather would get colder. worked. worked. worked. worked. worked.
had a white russian or two or three or 10. purchased "In Rainbows" just so I could intermix the tracks with "Ok, Computer" and make one fantasmic album of Radiohead genius. opened presents. talked on the phone. hung up on someone. not gotten sick.
cussed at drivers I passed. wished that whoever planned road construction in this state would die in a fire. fought for the sake of fighting. bitten my nails. dreamed some pretty messed up dreams. been told I will probably be killed by someone. been told I will kill someone.
watched several movies. rearranged the furniture in my bedroom at least 4 times. played World of Warcraft more than I probably should. tried to find my ps2 controller so I can relive the awesome storytelling that is Digital Devil Saga Parts 1 and 2. found said ps2 controller in the closet. not yet relived the awesome storytelling that is DDS 1 and 2. blamed WoW for my lack of playing any other truly better video game in my arsenal.
written no other blog entries, save for this one. exchanged e-mails on the daily. bought the soundtrack to "Black Swan" because Clint Mansell is amazing. worked. worked. worked.
not done anything worth mentioning.
ps: the cake is a lie. and so is your face.
5.10.10
27: A Dream? Or Something Else Entirely...
The following is a dream I had last night. Looking back on it now, I think I have the workings of an awesomely B-rated slasher movie. So Wes Craven, if I see this thrown in my face next Halloween I will come for you. And I will cut you. This, I think, would be so poetic it makes me heart hurt.
I shall piece this together from foggy dream memory. It kind of makes me wish I had just written it all down in my post-dream, delirious state at 4:00 this morning.
So it begins like this:
I’m in a room. Pretty nondescript. Four walls, maybe a window, but probably not because it was really dark. There was a small lamp on an end table sitting in one of the corners. Instead of a door there is a curtain. I’m standing in this room with a younger woman. Black, frizzy hair. I’m holding a large lamp in my two hands. It isn’t plugged in to any outlet.
The young woman is talking to me, though I can’t really understand what she’s saying. She’s panicked. From under the curtain I can see two brown paws suddenly flutter by. I hold up my lamp, ready to swipe at the paws the next time they come by. The woman begs me not to do it. She says something like: “He’ll kill us. Don’t do this, he’ll kill us, he’ll kill us! Don’t mess with the dog”.
Naturally I don’t listen and, when the creature (a dog I guess) comes shifting by, I strike out with the bottom of the lamp and knock it off its paws. It whimpers and whines as I continue to strike out. The woman is screaming and I’m screaming and the dog is wailing and I just don’t stop. I continue to lash out at this dog. The woman is striking me with her hands, begging me to stop because we’re all now going to die and it’s all my fault.
The scene suddenly shifts to six or seven of us, black frizzy haired girl included, to an open room. It’s a very comfortable room. High vaulted ceilings, plush furniture. Windows. One of us, a young guy with blonde hair, light eyes and a killer smile is talking about this guy who goes around at night and selects three people. These three people are taken to his place of business and locked into rooms. There, they experience untold horrors. He grabs three people every night until his place is filled with 27 people.
He tells this story from the couch while sitting next to an equally attractive blonde girl with wavy hair. She looks skeptical, but I don’t really care about her look. I continue to pay attention to the guy telling this obviously ridiculous story.
So he gets 27 people. Once they are all collected, he forces them into a large room (“Like this one here,” he says which I am sure if merely for added horror effect). After they have all been corralled into the room, they are forced to select one among them to die. They must come to a consensus as to which one of them will die. And once they’ve voted, the unlucky person would then be lead off by the man and killed. The others would be set free and it would be as if nothing happened.
The blonde girl sitting next to him laughs. I can tell by the way the guy is looking at her that they are most assuredly fucking. Disappointing. He insists the whole thing is true and to be careful tonight when we all go to sleep.
The scene suddenly changes to three of us in a closed room with a pair of bunk beds, a small window and a lamp. It’s me, a red-haired girl who looks very unsettled and an Asian guy. The red-head is freaking out and rocking back and forth on her heels that “we’ve been taken, we’ve been taken, oh my God we’re going to die”.
I’m looking around, trying to remember how we even got into this place, but I’m drawing up blank. The room is damp and I finally notice that the paint (color I cannot tell because the lighting isn’t all that great) is peeling off in various places. The floor is hard and cold cement. There is no door visible.
The scene switches then to the girl on the lower bunk, still mumbling about dying. The Asian is nowhere to be seen, but then again, I’m not looking for him. I’m lying on the top bunk, watching the ceiling shift and move like some throbbing organ getting ready to burst. And then the girl screams.
I bring my head over the side of the bunk in time to see a giant form wrapped in a massive brown coat move atop her. His hands are a mass of fat fingers and they’re around her neck because I can hear her start to choke and thrash below me. And then it’s just one hand around her because his other has reached into his jacket or coat and pulled out a gleaming blade. And then it’s being stabbed into this poor girl and I can hear it slide so easily into her flesh and then there’s ripping noises and
The scene shifts. I’m walking down a small flight of stairs toward a glass door. Behind me a voice demands that I stop. I’m almost to the door and a hand grasps my shoulder. I swing around and a guy with nappy, horrid brown hair is yelling and demanding that I return to the room with everyone else.
“You’re going to fucking stay and we’re going to make a decision and if you don’t then I will convince everyone to select you and then YOU will die and we’ll live. Get back in that goddamn room!”
I look at this dirty guy. He’s got his hand on my shoulder and trying to pull me back into the room and I grab his hand and say: “It doesn’t matter. We’re all dead anyway. I’m not going back in there to condemn someone to death. Not gonna do it. Not gonna do it. We can all walk now. The door’s open.”
The scene shifts. I’m running around the room. The floor is slick with blood and the red-head is still on the bottom bunk, shaking with her hand held out. Her eyes are glazed over and she’s choking and coughing up blood. The Asian guy tells me to calm down. All I see is this girl, bleeding on a mattress, choking on her own blood and vomit and there’s nothing I can do.
The scene shifts. I’m running toward a shoreline of big rocks and boulders. On the other side of the wide expanse of water is where I am supposed to be meeting people. People who can help me figure out how to take care of this guy and his murderous ways. I don’t know if he’s behind me or not and I don’t care. I run like my feet are on fire. And soon I’m on the rocks. The tide is serious and crashes into the smooth, water-worn surface of the rocks with a vengeance. Cold water splashes over me, leaving no inch of my skin dry. And then it pulls back and I feel myself being thrown into the rocks. I cry out and stumble forward, along the side of the rocks, heading toward a small path that will take me across the water. I realize I have to time everything just perfectly, otherwise I’ll end up being pulled out into the sea and I’ll never be able to get to
Scene shifts. I’m wet and slowly drying in the afternoon sun as I enter into the outdoor market area. The place is awash with moving bodies and faceless strangers. I’m panting when I notice them all seated at a wooden table. They’re sipping on sodas and munching French fries. I wave. He waves back.
Blonde Guy With Killer Smile cocks his head to side as I approach, clearly taken back with my appearance. “Where have you been dude?” Girl He Fucks With Wavy Blonde Hair passes her eyes over me and arches a brow. I collapse onto a bench, panting.
“It’s true,” I finally say. “It’s all true. He came for me.”
And then Black Frizzy Hair gasps and looks around, as if to make sure I hadn’t been followed. Killer Smile nods and says, in a manner of fact way, “Yes, I know. I told you.” I just stare up at him, unable to find the energy to move my head. “I know how to stop him.”
Scene shifts. The dog, if it was a dog, has escaped by brutal attack. In its wake is a trail of black liquid I can only guess to be its blood. I can hear its whimpers getting softer and softer as it pulls itself further down a hallway. Black Frizzy Hair is crying, head shaking back and forth as she mumbles through convulsing sobs. “You sick bastard, why? Why’d you do that?”
I open my mouth to explain that it was all apart of the plan. It would surely lure the man out and we’d then strike. We would end his life and his reign of terror on everyone else. I never got to say these things because the curtain is suddenly pulled open.
Large hands grab my throat and I am violently yanked forward, out of the room. I can still hear the girl sobbing and then I hear the crash of glass and know that the lamp that had been providing light in that room had been knocked over. I’m not even struggling. I’m too surprised that I can’t even begin to comprehend what is even going on.
When I open my eyes, I’m in the middle of a large, open room. Killer Smile and Blonde Wavy Hair are there, all serious faced and grim. Hobo At The Door is grinning. Even the Asian is there. Killer Smile steps forward.
“So it’s you. You’ve been chosen.” I swallow, hard and audible and look around. I can’t count them all because I just can’t bring my mind to focus on reality. It’s gone on some wild vacation somewhere, leaving me doomed. There are, I’m sure, 27 people in this room, including myself. I open my mouth to say something, but Hobo At The Door steps in.
“I told you fucker. I fucking TOLD you this is what would happen. And you know what? It’s you. It’s fucking you!” And he laughs something crazy.
And then there is another. The 28th person. And I know, as those large hands descend on me again, that I will be dead.
I shall piece this together from foggy dream memory. It kind of makes me wish I had just written it all down in my post-dream, delirious state at 4:00 this morning.
So it begins like this:
I’m in a room. Pretty nondescript. Four walls, maybe a window, but probably not because it was really dark. There was a small lamp on an end table sitting in one of the corners. Instead of a door there is a curtain. I’m standing in this room with a younger woman. Black, frizzy hair. I’m holding a large lamp in my two hands. It isn’t plugged in to any outlet.
The young woman is talking to me, though I can’t really understand what she’s saying. She’s panicked. From under the curtain I can see two brown paws suddenly flutter by. I hold up my lamp, ready to swipe at the paws the next time they come by. The woman begs me not to do it. She says something like: “He’ll kill us. Don’t do this, he’ll kill us, he’ll kill us! Don’t mess with the dog”.
Naturally I don’t listen and, when the creature (a dog I guess) comes shifting by, I strike out with the bottom of the lamp and knock it off its paws. It whimpers and whines as I continue to strike out. The woman is screaming and I’m screaming and the dog is wailing and I just don’t stop. I continue to lash out at this dog. The woman is striking me with her hands, begging me to stop because we’re all now going to die and it’s all my fault.
The scene suddenly shifts to six or seven of us, black frizzy haired girl included, to an open room. It’s a very comfortable room. High vaulted ceilings, plush furniture. Windows. One of us, a young guy with blonde hair, light eyes and a killer smile is talking about this guy who goes around at night and selects three people. These three people are taken to his place of business and locked into rooms. There, they experience untold horrors. He grabs three people every night until his place is filled with 27 people.
He tells this story from the couch while sitting next to an equally attractive blonde girl with wavy hair. She looks skeptical, but I don’t really care about her look. I continue to pay attention to the guy telling this obviously ridiculous story.
So he gets 27 people. Once they are all collected, he forces them into a large room (“Like this one here,” he says which I am sure if merely for added horror effect). After they have all been corralled into the room, they are forced to select one among them to die. They must come to a consensus as to which one of them will die. And once they’ve voted, the unlucky person would then be lead off by the man and killed. The others would be set free and it would be as if nothing happened.
The blonde girl sitting next to him laughs. I can tell by the way the guy is looking at her that they are most assuredly fucking. Disappointing. He insists the whole thing is true and to be careful tonight when we all go to sleep.
The scene suddenly changes to three of us in a closed room with a pair of bunk beds, a small window and a lamp. It’s me, a red-haired girl who looks very unsettled and an Asian guy. The red-head is freaking out and rocking back and forth on her heels that “we’ve been taken, we’ve been taken, oh my God we’re going to die”.
I’m looking around, trying to remember how we even got into this place, but I’m drawing up blank. The room is damp and I finally notice that the paint (color I cannot tell because the lighting isn’t all that great) is peeling off in various places. The floor is hard and cold cement. There is no door visible.
The scene switches then to the girl on the lower bunk, still mumbling about dying. The Asian is nowhere to be seen, but then again, I’m not looking for him. I’m lying on the top bunk, watching the ceiling shift and move like some throbbing organ getting ready to burst. And then the girl screams.
I bring my head over the side of the bunk in time to see a giant form wrapped in a massive brown coat move atop her. His hands are a mass of fat fingers and they’re around her neck because I can hear her start to choke and thrash below me. And then it’s just one hand around her because his other has reached into his jacket or coat and pulled out a gleaming blade. And then it’s being stabbed into this poor girl and I can hear it slide so easily into her flesh and then there’s ripping noises and
The scene shifts. I’m walking down a small flight of stairs toward a glass door. Behind me a voice demands that I stop. I’m almost to the door and a hand grasps my shoulder. I swing around and a guy with nappy, horrid brown hair is yelling and demanding that I return to the room with everyone else.
“You’re going to fucking stay and we’re going to make a decision and if you don’t then I will convince everyone to select you and then YOU will die and we’ll live. Get back in that goddamn room!”
I look at this dirty guy. He’s got his hand on my shoulder and trying to pull me back into the room and I grab his hand and say: “It doesn’t matter. We’re all dead anyway. I’m not going back in there to condemn someone to death. Not gonna do it. Not gonna do it. We can all walk now. The door’s open.”
The scene shifts. I’m running around the room. The floor is slick with blood and the red-head is still on the bottom bunk, shaking with her hand held out. Her eyes are glazed over and she’s choking and coughing up blood. The Asian guy tells me to calm down. All I see is this girl, bleeding on a mattress, choking on her own blood and vomit and there’s nothing I can do.
The scene shifts. I’m running toward a shoreline of big rocks and boulders. On the other side of the wide expanse of water is where I am supposed to be meeting people. People who can help me figure out how to take care of this guy and his murderous ways. I don’t know if he’s behind me or not and I don’t care. I run like my feet are on fire. And soon I’m on the rocks. The tide is serious and crashes into the smooth, water-worn surface of the rocks with a vengeance. Cold water splashes over me, leaving no inch of my skin dry. And then it pulls back and I feel myself being thrown into the rocks. I cry out and stumble forward, along the side of the rocks, heading toward a small path that will take me across the water. I realize I have to time everything just perfectly, otherwise I’ll end up being pulled out into the sea and I’ll never be able to get to
Scene shifts. I’m wet and slowly drying in the afternoon sun as I enter into the outdoor market area. The place is awash with moving bodies and faceless strangers. I’m panting when I notice them all seated at a wooden table. They’re sipping on sodas and munching French fries. I wave. He waves back.
Blonde Guy With Killer Smile cocks his head to side as I approach, clearly taken back with my appearance. “Where have you been dude?” Girl He Fucks With Wavy Blonde Hair passes her eyes over me and arches a brow. I collapse onto a bench, panting.
“It’s true,” I finally say. “It’s all true. He came for me.”
And then Black Frizzy Hair gasps and looks around, as if to make sure I hadn’t been followed. Killer Smile nods and says, in a manner of fact way, “Yes, I know. I told you.” I just stare up at him, unable to find the energy to move my head. “I know how to stop him.”
Scene shifts. The dog, if it was a dog, has escaped by brutal attack. In its wake is a trail of black liquid I can only guess to be its blood. I can hear its whimpers getting softer and softer as it pulls itself further down a hallway. Black Frizzy Hair is crying, head shaking back and forth as she mumbles through convulsing sobs. “You sick bastard, why? Why’d you do that?”
I open my mouth to explain that it was all apart of the plan. It would surely lure the man out and we’d then strike. We would end his life and his reign of terror on everyone else. I never got to say these things because the curtain is suddenly pulled open.
Large hands grab my throat and I am violently yanked forward, out of the room. I can still hear the girl sobbing and then I hear the crash of glass and know that the lamp that had been providing light in that room had been knocked over. I’m not even struggling. I’m too surprised that I can’t even begin to comprehend what is even going on.
When I open my eyes, I’m in the middle of a large, open room. Killer Smile and Blonde Wavy Hair are there, all serious faced and grim. Hobo At The Door is grinning. Even the Asian is there. Killer Smile steps forward.
“So it’s you. You’ve been chosen.” I swallow, hard and audible and look around. I can’t count them all because I just can’t bring my mind to focus on reality. It’s gone on some wild vacation somewhere, leaving me doomed. There are, I’m sure, 27 people in this room, including myself. I open my mouth to say something, but Hobo At The Door steps in.
“I told you fucker. I fucking TOLD you this is what would happen. And you know what? It’s you. It’s fucking you!” And he laughs something crazy.
And then there is another. The 28th person. And I know, as those large hands descend on me again, that I will be dead.
3.8.10
Dead Tone: A Review
In an attempt to better my writing ability, I am taking up the advice of most successful, published authors out there (save for you Dean Koontz. I don’t like you.) and writing in a semi-regular fashion. Sure, some out there will tell you to hammer out like 10,000 words a day or write for 12 hours or lay a golden goose egg but I just don’t see how I can do that. Instead, I am going to attempt to write at least an article once a week.
In the spirit of watching a movie every week and telling everyone how wonderful (or not) it was, I decided to post another review this week! Hooray!
Last night I was set to watch “Mulholland Drive” and enjoy the wonderfulness that is almost anything David Lynch directs. (I actually wasn’t that big a fan of “Blue Velvet”. Sorry Dennis Hopper.) However, as I was getting ready to queue it up, the little voice in the back of my mind whispered something like: “Hey, check and see what new movies Netflix has added. Maybe something better is playing. BETTER!” And like the easily distracted, fickle person that I am, I went to the new listings. Oh boy, did I stumble upon a gem of a film…
The premise of “Dead Tone” sounded straight-forward and simple enough. Punk kids make prank calls, one goes awry and horror ensues. I was thinking to myself, “Hey Corey, maybe this could flash you back to those times when you’d make prank calls with Kylie, only without the psycho murder popping out of your closet with a hatchet and killing you and everyone you love and care for”. Needless to say, I was totally sold on that idea.
Let me stop real quick like to warn you beforehand that this review does contain spoilers. I want to spoil this movie so you don’t have to experience the awfulness that this movie was. Is. Whatever.
So. The movie opens with this group of children having a sleep over. One of them suggests a game to play involving a cordless phone, random numbers and being generally kid-stupid. Also, it is the middle of the night. So they take turn making prank calls, saying silly, immature little kid things. Finally, one of them (a dorky kid with glasses) gets up to put a stop to their revelries. Naturally his twin, but less dorky looking, brother threatens to beat him up if he tells. Well, he is saved from having to make that call because their father comes in to check on them and naturally they quickly pretend to sleep (or maybe they really were asleep) and he takes the phone off from the floor, where it had been left on.
After he leaves we learn that he has a bunch of people in another room smoking and drinking and generally having a Mad Men of a good time. Some undetermined amount of time passes and one of the boys wakes up. The phone is ringing. The adults are pretty much passed out in the room next door. So the geeky brother goes to pick up the phone and as he answers it, a scary voice comes over the phone taunting him about how it isn’t nice to make prank calls. And then suddenly the person the voice belongs to just bursts from the closet door, hatchet in hand, and proceeds to viciously murder EVERYONE in the house except for the children. Finally! Someone DID think of the children!
The killer did a number on the adults in a way that might even get Lizzie Borden jealous if she were, you know, still alive. A detective (played by the only actor I recognized and knew by name, Rutger Hauer) arrives at the scene and exchanges some really, really, REALLY bad “witty” dialogue with a street cop.
Flash forward ten years and we learn that all the kids were adopted and renamed and spread out over the country. Well, mostly. A few of them remained close after the brutal encounter, grew up normal and went to college. That just goes to show you that if a 10 year old can overcome the vicious murder and slaughter of an entire house full of adults and loved ones, then what can’t one overcome? So everyone needs to stop their whining and get over it already.
To spare the stupid details of this horribly acted, worse written and crappily editied movie, I’ll skip to the end. Basically, someone is going around killing all the kids responsible for the prank calls that happened 10 years prior. Cue a sex-filled, booze-fueled party in a secluded mansion on a top of a hill owned by a total prick of a college kid. Some stuff happens at the house, mainly TNA nonsense and the killer arrives and basically kills EVERY SINGLE PERSON. Yes. Everyone in this movie dies. Including the detective and his Asian lady partner.
In the final twist of the movie, when we learn the identity of said killer. It turns out that the killer this go round is the geeky brother who wanted to pull the plug on the whole prank call operation back before their parents were all axed up. So to help him do this, he had some mental patient he was housed with during recovery (looks like I was slightly mistaken about not everyone turning out okay) kill people too. At the end, when he has the last two victims cornered in a room, he decides to kill his partner and repeatedly stabs him in the chest and I think the throat.
Then, in a final twist of fate, as the psycho twin brother is struggling on the floor with one of his intended victims, the detective bursts through the door. And, seeing a black man with a knife, shoots him and kills him dead. And as the real killer lies on the floor, panting and all out of breath from his crazy killing spree, his mental health patient friend somehow returns to the land of the living, grabs the axe and takes a swing at the two cops hovering over the out of breath killer. And cue credits.
As I was watching this movie I was making mental notes about what I would say when I sat down to write the review. Alas, I have forgotten most of the little quips. To boil it down, this movie was marred by one teen-slasher cliché after another. There was a scene where this guy, in a Jacuzzi, was getting himself some oral attention by his lady friend. As she was diving deep, one of the killers came up from behind as he put his other head back and lopped it off. Naturally it caused for quite the scene when the girl comes up for air.
I don’t even want to talk about this movie anymore. It was just horrible. Watch it with friends after a night of heavy drinking and pot smoking. That makes almost anything entertaining. Almost.
For next week I’m going to go back to the year 2004. What am I doing there you might wonder? Who knows! Check back next week and find out!
In the spirit of watching a movie every week and telling everyone how wonderful (or not) it was, I decided to post another review this week! Hooray!
Last night I was set to watch “Mulholland Drive” and enjoy the wonderfulness that is almost anything David Lynch directs. (I actually wasn’t that big a fan of “Blue Velvet”. Sorry Dennis Hopper.) However, as I was getting ready to queue it up, the little voice in the back of my mind whispered something like: “Hey, check and see what new movies Netflix has added. Maybe something better is playing. BETTER!” And like the easily distracted, fickle person that I am, I went to the new listings. Oh boy, did I stumble upon a gem of a film…
The premise of “Dead Tone” sounded straight-forward and simple enough. Punk kids make prank calls, one goes awry and horror ensues. I was thinking to myself, “Hey Corey, maybe this could flash you back to those times when you’d make prank calls with Kylie, only without the psycho murder popping out of your closet with a hatchet and killing you and everyone you love and care for”. Needless to say, I was totally sold on that idea.
Let me stop real quick like to warn you beforehand that this review does contain spoilers. I want to spoil this movie so you don’t have to experience the awfulness that this movie was. Is. Whatever.
So. The movie opens with this group of children having a sleep over. One of them suggests a game to play involving a cordless phone, random numbers and being generally kid-stupid. Also, it is the middle of the night. So they take turn making prank calls, saying silly, immature little kid things. Finally, one of them (a dorky kid with glasses) gets up to put a stop to their revelries. Naturally his twin, but less dorky looking, brother threatens to beat him up if he tells. Well, he is saved from having to make that call because their father comes in to check on them and naturally they quickly pretend to sleep (or maybe they really were asleep) and he takes the phone off from the floor, where it had been left on.
After he leaves we learn that he has a bunch of people in another room smoking and drinking and generally having a Mad Men of a good time. Some undetermined amount of time passes and one of the boys wakes up. The phone is ringing. The adults are pretty much passed out in the room next door. So the geeky brother goes to pick up the phone and as he answers it, a scary voice comes over the phone taunting him about how it isn’t nice to make prank calls. And then suddenly the person the voice belongs to just bursts from the closet door, hatchet in hand, and proceeds to viciously murder EVERYONE in the house except for the children. Finally! Someone DID think of the children!
The killer did a number on the adults in a way that might even get Lizzie Borden jealous if she were, you know, still alive. A detective (played by the only actor I recognized and knew by name, Rutger Hauer) arrives at the scene and exchanges some really, really, REALLY bad “witty” dialogue with a street cop.
Flash forward ten years and we learn that all the kids were adopted and renamed and spread out over the country. Well, mostly. A few of them remained close after the brutal encounter, grew up normal and went to college. That just goes to show you that if a 10 year old can overcome the vicious murder and slaughter of an entire house full of adults and loved ones, then what can’t one overcome? So everyone needs to stop their whining and get over it already.
To spare the stupid details of this horribly acted, worse written and crappily editied movie, I’ll skip to the end. Basically, someone is going around killing all the kids responsible for the prank calls that happened 10 years prior. Cue a sex-filled, booze-fueled party in a secluded mansion on a top of a hill owned by a total prick of a college kid. Some stuff happens at the house, mainly TNA nonsense and the killer arrives and basically kills EVERY SINGLE PERSON. Yes. Everyone in this movie dies. Including the detective and his Asian lady partner.
In the final twist of the movie, when we learn the identity of said killer. It turns out that the killer this go round is the geeky brother who wanted to pull the plug on the whole prank call operation back before their parents were all axed up. So to help him do this, he had some mental patient he was housed with during recovery (looks like I was slightly mistaken about not everyone turning out okay) kill people too. At the end, when he has the last two victims cornered in a room, he decides to kill his partner and repeatedly stabs him in the chest and I think the throat.
Then, in a final twist of fate, as the psycho twin brother is struggling on the floor with one of his intended victims, the detective bursts through the door. And, seeing a black man with a knife, shoots him and kills him dead. And as the real killer lies on the floor, panting and all out of breath from his crazy killing spree, his mental health patient friend somehow returns to the land of the living, grabs the axe and takes a swing at the two cops hovering over the out of breath killer. And cue credits.
As I was watching this movie I was making mental notes about what I would say when I sat down to write the review. Alas, I have forgotten most of the little quips. To boil it down, this movie was marred by one teen-slasher cliché after another. There was a scene where this guy, in a Jacuzzi, was getting himself some oral attention by his lady friend. As she was diving deep, one of the killers came up from behind as he put his other head back and lopped it off. Naturally it caused for quite the scene when the girl comes up for air.
I don’t even want to talk about this movie anymore. It was just horrible. Watch it with friends after a night of heavy drinking and pot smoking. That makes almost anything entertaining. Almost.
For next week I’m going to go back to the year 2004. What am I doing there you might wonder? Who knows! Check back next week and find out!
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