Life is a hideous thing, to quote Howard P Lovecraft, but it does tend to grind on, regardless of your consent or level of participation. This is my third year of blogging; I tell myself most people don't make it to six months so... there's that. Looks like I'm much more of an oversharer than I suspected and certes, you will be subjected to more of the same. Doubts may have presented themselves over the holiday period, but we still have shit to say. For better or worse.
This mouldy parsnip > pretty much summarises my current state of mind; withered and declined and yet transfigur'd by both the passing of time and the forces implicit in destruction and renewal. What started out as a bargain-bin out of season tuber and a delight to no one blossomed into this mighty cyclops, if a cyclops was ever ambushed by a friend-of-a-friend's full-swap keyparty. Well it made me laugh anyway.
In the spirit of this new lunar year nihilism let me confess that I've announced a return to the regular blog schedule without actually writing anything worth reading. Let's see how well that works out, shall we? We've been watching lots of movies and I really want to reform the film review format with a view to meaningful condensation, so I might kick off with some Hostile Witness shit.
The last Blackthorn Orphans excerpt closed the first part of the book. If you've put off starting from the beginning, now's a great time to scurry back to chapter one and catch up before things get really fucking messy. Am I the kind of writer who clips their best characters just for the hell of it? Would I yank your dicks with dirty backwoods sex, historic horrors, dreadful revelations and bloodspattered cliffhangers? You could go with your ethical inclinations and pay the whole $3.99 I'm panhandling for (because my greed knows no bounds) and find out a whole lot sooner.
In the meantime, Interpol. I really like their latest drop, El Pintor, but I miss Carlos on bass so we'll have some of that shit right there. There's something oddly compelling about this video; those bass strings jumping like that and Paul's anguine passivity feels like an eight point five bad touch in a quiet supermarket aisle.
It's nice to be back. Hope it's good for you too.