They were holding it together, most days. They sometimes sported that just-polished-enough look that was code for “unshowered, but I’m here, dammit.” I recognized it because I sported it too, sometimes.
They were holding it together, most days. They sometimes sported that just-polished-enough look that was code for “unshowered, but I’m here, dammit.” I recognized it because I sported it too, sometimes.
He used to bring me flowers whose petals had not opened; we spend long afternoons together, the flowers have time to open and show their centre. Our love-making scene could be like this: He the bee and me the flower. I open my petals and he comes to gather his pollen. Happy. But then he has to take the pollen elsewhere. He cannot stay. Sad.
I’m five and it’s past time
to feed my tamagotchi.
I make a point to sob with enough fervor to properly indicate I’m not in fact a smoker.
Gabe rings in the new year with (already failed) resolutions and some films in this month’s Captain Canada’s Movie Rodeo.
This might be the day to winnow charcoal,
navy, or grey wool pinstripes, starched white
shirts, striped silk ties, rich brown wingtips.
Today, five years past retirement.
I snuggled in the backseat and resumed listening to the previous album. My bare feet, covered with dried mud, propped on the floor surface. I watched the officers speaking to each other in the front, but couldn't hear them over the music.
I seem to have lost myself, I tell my mom as she finds me laying on the couch one dreary afternoon. I confess I don’t believe in fairy tales anymore, or happy endings. And I cry. Not just at night, before I fall asleep on silk pillowcases, but openly now, because my family knows my dilemma and I don’t have to conceal my emotions.
Before the therapist arrives, she whispers words that could grind my bones to dust. Before she walked away from this “relationship”, she whispered the same words into my suffering Labyrinthitis, admitting she had given our love away almost a decade ago. Now she is digging our graves while I stand there watching.
A Christmasy Hammer crime movie. That sentence should be enough. Cash on Demand proves that if your story has a strong foundation, you don’t need any frills. You hardly need a budget. Beyond the thrill of the heist is the tale of a bank manager who keeps his emotions locked up in an impenetrable vault (like the money he’s responsible for), and a clever thief who has an earnest interest in his fellow human beings (despite his willingness to torment them for his own gains). A suspenseful little human drama that feels festive without bashing our heads in with it.
You should be the someone watching Lauren Hutton absolutely nail her role in Someone’s Watching Me! She’s endearing as hell in this made-for-TV horror/thriller about a somewhat lonely but upbeat woman named Leigh who is relentlessly harassed by an anonymous stalker. Ya know how sometimes characters feel hollow, like they’re just around to flaunt some writer’s agenda? Ain’t so here thanks to great performances and a balanced screenplay giving us people, not sounding boards. Watch this at night with some popcorn, the lights turned down, and the curtains open wide.
What could have been a humorous buddy flick focusing on the zany antics of two quirky criminals becomes a response to films that idealize just that. It’s a deeper look into the life and times of two low level thugs, one an erratic narcissist and the other a hypersensitive, vengeful, selfish man who is something of a heroic figure in his own mind. But May doesn’t make it easy for us, she humanizes (without romanticizing) them every chance she gets. Some of the best performances I’ve ever seen. It’s a gorgeously lived-in movie, like a quality pair of old jeans.
For all its irreverence, Fired Up! is a pretty fun flick. But the most important reason I love it is because it’s part of the indelible bond I have with my friend Dillon. No matter where we are in life, we can always turn it on, enjoy each other’s company, forget about the world, and laugh for a little while.
Up until this episode, Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. hadn’t yet found their own voice. The characters and plot were still heavily reliant on the timeline of the Marvel Cinematic Universe, and the relationships developing between the main characters aboard “The Bus” seemed either too shallow or too slow-paced. But with “FZZT,” we started to glean histories that deepened the way we view these characters and how they value each other in turn.
Why do I love this movie? By all accounts it's dumb as fuck. But look: I'm a sucker for hair metal. Motley Crue is one of my favorite bands of all time. I'm always on the hunt for a “Too Fast For Love” shirt: I long to have Vince Neil’s ‘80s leathered crotch plastered across my chest.
No, you didn’t walk
among the uplifting. No, you didn’t
know all that you were
or could have been
For me, the end of last year’s summer didn't stand still. It froze in place. I missed the first two weeks of class. The rest of the month was a rock slide. I was forced to return home, too much on my mind. I was called a drop out by family and friends.
They get up from the couch and return to the kitchen, The Actor continuously apologizing as he puts on his shoes. ‘Would you please stop?’ Rachel says. ‘I’m not heartbroken. Really. I’m just annoyed I have to clean up.’ When he mumbles something about helping out, she tells him, ‘I think that might just make things worse.’
The Drunk Monkeys staff looks back on ten years of publication.