Between Bears from Eran Hilleli on Vimeo.

    "I was lying there, trying to get the doors open but couldn't. I remember the inside light not working and thinking, 'It's not like I'm going to read a book,' so I opened another can."
Paul Nigel Sneddon of New Zealand explains why police found him drinking a beer when they pulled him out of his overturned car. Sneddon, who had gone on a four-day binge after losing his job and learning that his father had cancer, says that he can't stop drinking because, "When you're lonely like I am, you cling to the things that bring you comfort."

Pefect Pretzel Logic.

                                         Florien Maier-Aichen

                                             RIP Mr. Hopper

Los Angeles – (May 26, 2010) Camelot Entertainment Group, Inc. (OTCBB: CMGR) (”Camelot”) announced today that DarKnightPicture’s (“DKP”) release of Freak Show Entertainment’s Nude Nuns with Big Guns won over international audiences at the Marchedu Film in Cannes, France, which took place from May 12-21, 2010.  With interest soaring, Vice President of Sales Jeffrey Giles closed deals to release the film in Australia, Germany, Norway, Denmark, Sweden, Finland, and Iceland.  Deals are still being negotiated for United States, France, UK, Japan, Eastern Europe, and CIS.

Alone in my sister's apartment. It is lower down than my room, it is also on a side street, hence the neighbours' loud talking below, in front of their doors. Whistling too. Otherwise complete solitude. No longed-for wife to open the door. In one month I was to have been married. The saying hurts: you've made your bed, now lie in it. You find yourself painfully pushed against the wall, apprehensively lower your eyes to see whose hand it is that pushes you, and, with a new pain in which the old is forgotten, recognize your own contorted hand holding you with a strength it never had for good work. You raise your head, again feel the first pain, again lower your gaze; this up-and-down motion of your head goes on without pause.

           If you do it just so they can never tell the difference.

If you pretend to be Hallaj

And with that fake burning

Set fire to your friends,

Don’t think that you are a lover.

You’re crazy and numb,

You’re drinking our blood,

And you have no experience of the nearness.- Rumi

Many folks probably saw this coming but it's still sad none the less. I was reminded of the entropy that snares us all the other night during the academy's tribute to John Huston. Judd Nelson, Molly Ringwold, et. al looked a bit worse for wear.

The years tend to do that not to mention the booze and drugs. RIP Corey

All of which may be the reason the phrase ‘fell asleep as soon as her head hit the pillow’ is as strange to me as cuneiform. The drifting ritual, and the early training (which is why the light in the hall is on, and the door open, wider) of listening for catastrophe in the night, means that I have always taken an age to get to sleep. Sometimes this tips over into insomnia. Not a chance of drifting. Just the mind growing increasingly frantic with thoughts lining up round the block to get their moment in the sun of night-time fretfulness. This is more like my Methedrine phase. I enjoyed hyperconsciousness then (until, as with the ether, the thoughts turned bad). These days I’m much more on the side of oblivion. It goes in phases, and if I had a scientific interest in it, I’d be fascinated by the transformation of the world in the early hours to the place of uncertainty and woe that it actually is. The veil of coping shreds as the hours go by and all the disasters and horrid failures that can undoubtedly occur, and indeed are crowded, stage left, simply waiting for their moment, make themselves known to you. People have always asked which is the reality, sleep or wakefulness, but no one ever dares suggest that the horrors of half-past three in the morning are indeed as likely to happen as not, and are at least as possible as they are impossible- Bookslut.

"To all the devils, lusts, passions, greeds, envies, loves, hates, strange desires, enemies ghostly and real, the army of memories, with which I do battle — may they never give me peace.”

“Only part of us is sane: only part of us loves pleasure and the longer day of happiness, wants to live to our nineties and die in peace, in a house that we built, that shall shelter those who come after us. The other half of us is nearly mad. It prefers the disagreeable to the agreeable, loves pain and its darker night despair, and wants to die in a catastrophe that will set back life to its beginnings and leave nothing of our house save its blackened foundations.”

-Rebecca West

Drift from mustardcuffins on Vimeo.