Many films and books have explored love. The iconic tribute of solidarity to the binary. The relationship that rubs against the spirit and brings forth something deeper and primal. From love we get this connection that seems to incorporate transcendence and destiny. There is a sense in which what love brings to the surface always-already should more than its trivial material reality. Love is already more then it’s base existence. But, there is a radical absurdity in staking a claim on a singular entity, why this one and not others? While this ring on this chick? Why is there this wife rather than another or none at all? Upon even the most basic inspection love is not able to hold its ground. Love thrives in this contradictory dialectic. The bond that love creates calls into question the very reality that it exists in. Once in love, the lover’s world is twitter-painted. A vibrant shroud covers the world. Meaning springs forth from the meaningless. A tree or a park bench passed on the
Showing posts from December, 2014
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Many of us spend an inordinate amount of time searching for love and lust in life. We break our hearts on the altar of this demand. This compulsion to connect and reproduce. We track down that special someone and get them ringed. Wrapping our whole existence in the other. Wrapping tax codes, self-esteem and sanity up in marriage. But what does this all amount to? Living the dream we are brainwashed to love? Of what use are all these emotional and economic rituals? Scenic Route is a film that explores the void between romance and bromance. Should we live our life chasing our dreams or settle for what the world grinds us out to be?
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Long story short - this horror blogger been in the process of acclimating to a job in the big cold and windy city of Chicago. The pay checks are rolling in but I did not have access to horror films or my computer for most of the last month. Boring I know. Luckily over the last week I have been moving into a new horror crib and getting myself ready for adult life. This weekend I moved into my apartment. I'm just a futon on the floor and a large stack of blu rays filled with blood and guts. I look forward to getting back into writing. When this will be exactly is to be determined. I don't have a desk and my next weekend is going to be another pair of days moving heavy boxes. Look out for a post next-next weekend. I'm sure you punks will find this conundrum entertaining. I have a set of severed limbs that I picked up on clearance when I worked a Halloween at a Halloween store. I can't seem to find a place in my apartment to put them. Sadly I don't have any furnitur