𝚙𝚘𝚛𝚝𝚕𝚊𝚗𝚍, 𝚘𝚛𝚎𝚐𝚘𝚗 𝟷𝟿𝟽𝟷

"...and as long as it last, life was beautiful..."

Elliot Goldenthal's disharmonia junk grinder score is a darkened tunnel. Inside the needle, you can see yourself backwards. The carnival of broken dreams. Chemically treated in the stranglehold. Death visits the sick in their despair and does not care, at all. Desperation in the raw material of drastic change. Sometimes paranoia is just having all the facts. Pleasure is always relief.

DILAUDID

All your life you are an…

It's hard for me to see Tracy Walter in this and not see Malak from Conan the Destroyer. That's my issue, not the films.

Patrick Leonard's score kicks so much fucking ass. It adds real dimension to a decent, true story with ample serious acting from an all around super solid cast. Rural mobland shit from a gang of a darkland deviants in the Mid-Atlantic region. It plays strange and the cast compliments that strangeness. Crispin Glover's sideburns to beard…

Amber and I were fresh from the hospital after an oophorectomy (July 19). At this late stage in the cancer treatment journey it felt as though we were becoming, at once, indoctrinated into a new way of living, while increasingly mourning the loss of a life once lived or one that might have been.

She had been fasting and was in need of sustenance. We stopped into Firehouse Subs. The kid at the asked me my favorite horror movie.…

Cinematic Death Language. Tragic power dynamics. Supernatural projections and the sin of schism. Possession in a word. The film is possessed by the spirit of it's subject. Occultist blues. Primal voice vibrations from Skarsgård drowning in chimerical colors, creamy caramel and lifeless blue. Archeronian as the ocean at night and milky white as breast in the moonlight.

A crimson cleansing, drinking from the chest, gulping, gurgling. The sacrifice, the immolation for this filmic hallucination. The unforgettable melodies engraved into the…