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Starship troopers pilot scene 5

Hey,

Not really feeling my usual high energy self today so I’ll keep it brief. Haven’t been doing much this week except working my day job which was ok. Didn’t really get around to doing any Cur, so I’ll start friday and hopefully not have any excuses to avoid it.

Vampyr came on gamepass this week so I’ve been playing that. I bought a month of gamepass because it was on sale and I mostly feel ripped off because most of the games are pretty bleh. Only three really stuck out, but three games for two quid is ok I guess, but Vampyr is pretty good. I’ve been waiting for it come down in price, it was 85% off last week and I thought about getting it but it was still over a tenner so I thought I’d just wait and boy am I glad I did haha. So far it’s pretty good, not amazing but not generic either, it feels like it’s own thing instead of a clone of something else.

I tried to watch a Cronenberg movie I hadn’t seen before called ‘Naked Lunch’ and I got about halfway through before I decided I had better things to do than watch that utter nonsense.

It had no story really, and it was just gross, which is normal for Cronenberg movies but the grossness had no context or plot, it was just there. Which made it totally boring, the whole movie was just really boring and about nothing. It reminded me a lot of Brazil but not fun or interesting. It was surreal but not in a  fun or interesting way either.

It was like if David Lynch had no sense of humor whatsoever and was just a pretentious douchnozzle. Which some probably think he is but it couldn’t be further from the truth and it’s why I love his movies and music, he’s like anti-pretentious. He’s the guy who isn’t afraid of being called an idiot, his movies couldn’t be less pretentious. They’re just fun and weird and any deeper meaning is left ambiguous.

But the reviews for naked lunch perfectly illustrate the nature of this sort of emperor’s new clothes mentality in media. All the reviews are either 10/10 praising it for being super artistic and having all this deep meaningful context about heroin addiction and the other half are people without their heads jammed up their asses giving it 1/10 because it was boring and nothing really happens. The movie has no inciting incident, there’s no structure or goal, and I see people calling it funny in the reviews, it’s not funny, not at all. Unless you think bugs with talking buttholes is funny, which I don’t.

It was just weird for the sake of being weird it had no relevance to the plot of which there wasn’t any. Brazil is funny and cartoony and weird and it works, it builds its world really nicely, this movie doesn’t even try to do that. It was written by a heroine addict writing about a self insert character failed writer drug addict and it’s only famous because he was friends with a bunch of other famous drug addicts.

It’s just one of those movies that’s obscene and is just trash but the right people have convinced themselves that it’s art and not a movie that should end up on the sci-fi channel. I dare someone to watch this movie and then compare it to silent night deadly night 2. At least that movie had a story and was kind of funny. Naked lunch isn’t even funny bad, and all the reviews are telling me to watch it over and over when I couldn’t get through it once.

It’s just two hours of total pretentious nonsense. It has some cool effects but they’re sort of contextless, they’re just there. It doesn’t really help that I guess it’s inspired heavily by Kafka and I also haven’t made it through a Kafka book. I just find them too dry and boring. Like 1984 is a really amazing and serious and vital book but it’s also really interesting and genuinely entertaining. It’s not just a boring book you need to read for whatever mind expanding experience. I enjoyed it thoroughly, it’s actually a good read.

This is like if Hunter S Thompson was just really boring and instead of going on a crazy drug binge road trip he just stayed in his hotel room and had weird sexual conversations with his bug type writer’s butthole. I honestly can’t for the life of me pull anything worthwhile out of this movie and any one that can is for lack of a better word a total moron high on the smell of their own farts.

I guess this can’t really be called a review since I didn’t watch it all the way through but I didn’t really hate it, it just did nothing for me and sort of repulsed me. It wasn’t funny or fun or entertaining like it could have been, like brazil or fear and loathing. It was just bleh and I decided it had wasted enough of my time, it hadn’t done anything or gone anywhere with the story for the first hour and I didn’t expect it to go anywhere in the second.

So anyway, starship troopers haha. That reminds me I couldn’t really get through the animated tv show either, I was watching it while I worked out for the last week or two an it’s not that it’s bad, it actually has a lot of good ideas, it’ just sort of substance less in terms of actual story. It’s basically a kids show it’s a lot like eating a big fast food burger, it’s like you’re eating real food but it’s just empty calories, you don’t really feel full because there’s not much to it.

But I was just watching it mainly for ideas and in that regard it’s been really good, it expands on the mythos really nicely borrowing from the book and the movie. But it’s just a kids show, an excuse for cheesy jokes and mindless action. It’s as shallow as a puddle.

Anyhoo, gotta get back to proofreading the final chapter of Loverman for thursday.

See you…

EXT. an open dance floor on a terrace garden. Night

 

 

 

 

 

Rico is walking back after getting some punch for Carmen and he finds her deep in discussion with another guy.

 

 

Dizzy sees this and intercepts him taking one of the drinks.

 

 

DiZZY

 

 

Thanks

loverboy

.

 

 

RiCO

 

 

Hey, that was…

nevermind

.

 

 

Karl walks over to join them.

 

 

KARL

 

 

To

Diz

; May I have this dance.

 

 

DiZZY

 

 

Wait in line, me and Rico are up next.

 

 

KARL

 

 

Is that right?

 

 

Carmen comes over smiling. Rico gives her his drink.

 

 

CarMEN

 

 

Thanks.

 

 

CARMEN (

CONT’D

)

 

 

I was just talking to Steve, his sister made fleet, can you believe that?

 

 

CarMEN (

CONT’D

)

 

 

Can you imagine what is must be like to fly one of those

starships

?

 

 

RicO

 

 

You should try out for it.

 

 

CARMEN

 

 

Well that’s what I’ve been meaning to tell you.

 

 

CARMEN (

CONT’D

)

 

 

I’m

gonna

sign up the day after my birthday.

 

 

KARL

 

 

That’s great, me and Rico were thinking of doing it ourselves. We’ll go with you.

 

 

CARMEN

 

 

You both wanna go fleet too? That’s amazing.

 

 

KaRL

 

 

Me, be a space truck driver, no thanks, I’m going

starship

R & D. Electronics.

 

 

CaRMEN

 

 

Space truck driver? I hope they drop you off on Pluto and let you freeze.

 

 

CaRMEN (

CONT’D

)

 

 

And Johnny what were planning on doing?

 

 

RICO

 

 

I think I’ll buck for space pilot too.

 

 

CARMEN

 

 

That’s great! Maybe we’ll bump into

eachother

in training.

 

 

KaRL

 

 

A collision course.

 

 

RicO

 

 

(Seeing Mr.

Duboi

) Hey there’s Mr.

Duboi

, I just wanted to go talk to him.

 

 

Dizzy watches him go and decides to go dance with Karl instead.

 

 

Rico greets Mr. Dubois.

 

 

RICO (

CONT’D

)

 

 

Hey Mr.

Duboi

, I just wanted to tell you that your class was the best I had all year.

 

 

  1. DUBOIS

 

 

That’s great to hear son, I just hope you learned something.

 

 

RicO

 

 

I did, I think I did, I just wanted to ask you.

 

 

  1. DUBOIS

 

 

What is it Rico?

 

 

RiCO

 

 

I was thinking of joining up for federal service.

 

 

Mr. DUBOIS

 

 

That’s great Rico.

 

 

RiCO

 

 

My parents are against, but it’s my choice.

 

 

RiCO (

CONT’D

)

 

 

I just don’t know what I should do.

 

 

Mr. DUBOIS

 

 

Part of growing up is learning to make your own decisions. That’s what it means to be a man.

 

 

Mr. DUBOIS (

CONT’D

)

 

 

I can’t tell you what’s best for you.

 

 

Mr. DUBOIS (

CONT’D

)

 

 

Only you can do that.

 

 

Rico nods and Mr. Dubois shakes his hand.

 

 

Mr. DUBOIS (

CONT’D

)

 

 

Maybe one day we’ll meet under better circumstances.

 

 

Rico goes back to dance with Carmen.

 

LCYE Chapter 7 ‘Sinnerman’

Hello hello, back again with another chapter of this trippy dippy attempt at a psychological thriller. I think its shaping up nicely. By that I mean spiralling out of control into a complete surreal David Lynch parody clusterfuck but atleast I’m having fun. It’s something to do. And since I’ve sort of run out of things to rant about and there doesn’t seem to be anything interesting going on that isn’t american presidential election related so I’ll just keep writing and throwing that at you. Not like you want to hear my unfetted opinion anyway, I’m pretty much talking to myself.

This blog has sort of become just an insane time captual of my gradual decline, like some stardate log on a doomed space vessel heading to the sun and possible alien rape.

It could be worse right, I could be the person taxed with keeping whatever Hillary Clinton is alive and fed with bugs and mice.

That being said… is a phrase that’s over used these days I noticed, that being said here is the chapter in question. Sinnerman named after the song of the same name, we get a little window into the psychology of the killer but not really. It’s a fun if cliche’d autopsy exposition scene. Done a million times in almost every crime show/movie but it never gets old. Hopefully I kept it fresh, if not, oh well.

As always you can read the full chapter and all subsequent chapters on my inkitt page for the one time offer of zero shekels down do not pass go do not collect three hundred rare Pepes #notallpepes.

Sinnerman

~

Con paced back and forth in his expensive suit at the side of the road. He shook his head as he hung it. Casting a weary glance at the big open plot of grassland at the side of the road.
He stumbled up onto the uneven grassy embankment to look out at the horizon. It was mid-morning and hot. The sun was pregnant in the sky, squatting on the California mountain range. He took a deep breath as and shook his head again. So much emptiness. There was only small wire fence running along the side of the road accompanied by the telephone poles running parallel. A large grain silo in the distance. He was surprised anyone lived here in all this emptiness. All that light brown grass all that fresh air, he stole away one wild west fantasy and let it go again.

After another few minutes of stamping his feet and licking his lips he walked across the street to the black Lincoln.

Harri was sitting on the hot hood with her sunglasses on, a pair of cheap truck stop aviators. Her arms folded as she put all her weight on her heels and her sensible half heeled shoes.

“Feelin’ better?” She called out.

“Sorry, just getting car sick.” He flashed her a winning smile on that handsome face and then dropped it again. “You ready?”.

“Sure” She gave her own conservative smile and peeled herself off the car.

Con walked bow legged towards the large flat building behind the parked Lincoln. Harri followed smiling and shaking her head.

The Riverside county coroner’s office was a large rectangular building. It was fairly modern looking in some respects, old in others. It was tan stucco all the way around sitting atop a large glass front that wrapped around the whole building making it look like an uneven wedding cake. The windows all looked black from the glare. Riverside County Sheriff’s Coroner embossed in big silver letters on the side of the building.

The surrounding greenery was well kept to a point. The grass had dry desert bald patches but that was to be expected. A few clusters of cypress trees were dotted around. Maybe to give the impression that this wasn’t the middle of nowhere and civilisation would greet you a few miles in either direction. Either side a great distance apart was a post office and what looked like a stationery store.

The entrance was another big rectangular box which jutted out in an awkward L shape. There was a strange red outcropping over the door. It looked like a red piece of prepacked cheese slice hanging from a sandwich at a jaunty angle. The whole building gave off an aura of flat-pack furniture.

Con waited for Harri at the door turning to shield his eyes and scrunch his face up, he looked pale and a little sickly. Harri brushed past him as she broke the seal on the door which made a sucking hissing sound that gave way to a cool blast of air conditioning. Thus completing the illusion of a walk in freezer.

Inside it was modern and simple. There was a small waiting area with a wooden table and matching furniture. A flustered middle age woman with an eighties haircut and blue blazer sat at a small light wood reception desk. A phone pressed tightly to her ear.

Harri did her usual bit as she liked to do. She strode up to the reception desk and flashed her laminate.

“FBI, you’re expecting us”

The flustered woman had no time to think and just nodded furiously and blurted out “Err room 3b, end of the hall”.

Harri smiled politely and quickstepped down the hall followed by a queasy looking Con squinting at the halogen lights.

It smelled like a hospital, but the smell of cleaning products was much stronger. As if the walls were soaked in it or there was bleach in the sprinkler system.

Harri marched down the narrow hallway, she could feel it getting colder. She knew that had to be a step in the right direction. The floors in the lobby were that locking wood flooring, now it was all clean squeaky linoleum like a hospital. The walls were all white with a few tasteful paintings and bulletins dotted about. Con plodded on behind her as she stalked the halls looking for 3b. She found it, it was a large stainless steel sliding door with a little porthole window at the side. She looked inside through the foggy window. She could see mounds of bodies wrapped up in see through plastic. They all looked like props in a scary movie lying on stainless steel shelves with raised lips.

“Oh you’re here” A shy perky voice behind her croaked out.

A small fat man in a lab coat peaked out from an office door on the other side of the hall. There was more of that pale wood lining the windows in the office and the writing surfaces. All the work surfaces were stainless steel.

“FBI right?” The small man said.

“Uh huh, Special agent Harriet Jaguer and this is my partner, Special Agent Con Folsome.” Con shambled along just as she introduced him. He looked a little better, the cold seemed to straighten out some of the wrinkles on his suit and his face. He was just in time for a vigorous handshake from a pair of very sweaty and inextricably hairy hands.

“Gary Dole, it’s good to meet you folks, don’t get many of you men in black fellas out here”.

The little man was bald and had the greying stubble of a plumber all over his face. A set of wire framed reading glasses resting atop his head. His face looked like someone had taken silly putty and put it on a boiled egg and frozen it. Squishy looking features that were left to set hard. A stubby nose and tight rounded lips on a small alert face.

Sinnerman

 

 

LCYE Chapter 6 ‘Call from the past’

Ok back again with some weird shit. Yeah it started pretty stable and but now we’re getting into the silent hill max payne elements and it’s all down hill from here folks. Trippy shit. I tried to reign it in a little and for the most part faught my natural inclinations to go down the rabbit hole and I think it happens rather gradually and hopefull comes off as chilling as I fantacize it to be.
Well let me know what you think as always, busy, busy, busy being busy. Still writing this stuff, hopefully I’ll get it squared away before nano.

As always find the full chapter on inkitt for no monies.

Call From the Past

Aurevoir

~
A phone was ringing somewhere. A distinctive chirping analogue phone.

It seemed to swing in and out on a bedside table in a room he couldn’t piece together in his mind. All the parts were scattered.

He took a sharp intake of breath, a sudden feeling of falling catching him. His head bobbed. His hands tightened on the faux leather steering wheel. He was driving, how long had he been driving? Where was he going? Where was he? Who was he?

He rolled down his window and let the wind batter his cheeks as he craned his neck trying to stop his eyes spinning in his head long enough to read a road sign.

He looked in his rear-view mirror and saw a sign for Poplar avenue.

He was driving in the slow lane of a highway sectioned off in the middle by a line of cypress trees. Driving past a motel with large bulbous palm trees collected almost like a bunch of flowers in the parking lot.

It didn’t really tell him much; he wasn’t familiar with the area.

He wound the window up as the air started to sting his cheeks. He turned the rear-view mirror down quickly and looked at his face. There were light scratches already fading on his cheeks. James turned the mirror up again and didn’t give it much thought.

He passed a small one story building, yellow brick with red trim. Only the words ‘CHEAP CIGARETTES’ embossed on the side. There was a McDonalds that looked like a texmex restaurant on his right and a gas station. He checked his dash, he didn’t need gas.

His reactions were slow, even moving his head was a grand gesture a colossal effort. He didn’t see the car in front slow down for the light. He slammed right into the back of a Honda civic. His face hit the steering wheel hard.

He could see the coffee cup, but he didn’t try to stop it. It was white and made of stained porcelain, it said ‘CHINA’ on the bottom. It hit a deco floor of black and white tiles, shattering and spreading a brown gritty liquid on the floor, that could only be coffee. He straightened and took in another sobering breath bracing his neck. Pain worked its way through his body, like a hurdler jumping all the vertebrae in his spine.

A waitress galloped over with a fresh pot of coffee as if that could put humpty dumpty back together again. She was small and girlish and had mousey brown hair, a pale pretty face with delicate features. Wearing a green plaid skirt and apron as some kind of uniform with a white blouse. Her name tag read; ‘Becky’.

“Are you alright? What happened to you?” She said, a genuine tone of concern in her voice.

“What?” James said.

“Your eye is bleeding” She pointed to her eye and held herself delicately.

James padded his eye with his hand until it came up wet. “Oh yeah, I think I was in a car accident”

“Oh my god, I’ll take care of this, we have a bathroom in the back you can get cleaned up.”

The sound of running water.

James opened his eyes, there was someone in front of him, through the steam, he wiped the glass. It was a man, a man with brown hair, he had a cut over his eye, light scratches on his face. There was blood. It took him a moment to realise it was his own face. It felt alien to him, was he wearing a new face or was it always like this?

The poet Pool, in his poem “Somebody’s been wearing my face again” wrote: ‘In this hall of mirrors/Built by liars, I am a pale reflection of myself.’

The water was running hot, he dipped his hands in it and slowly padded his face.

It stung but he kept at it.

After a few minutes it was clean and he felt a warming sensation under his collar. The steam cleared and he took another look at himself. He was still wearing his work clothes, a jacket he’d never seen before. It was maybe one size too big sitting on his shoulders making him look like a tailor’s dummy. It was a leather bikers jacket with a yellow stripe running up the arms.

He patted the pockets, they were empty. He opened it and put his hand inside the inside breast pocket and came out with a peculiar matchbox which had the same pattern as the floor. A hatched black and white, with a strange symbol that may have been a bird of some kind. Embossed in black it read “Twin Pines lodge” With an address ‘West capitol avenue, Sacramento’.

Puzzled he turned it over, it was blank but someone had drawn a set of lips on the back with red lipstick. As if it was a kiss.

 

Ladies Close Your Eyes Chapter 4 ‘Women in Fridges’

I had a fucked up neck yesterday from doing manly shit so I couldn’t work out and I was doing some writing and I wasn’t really feeling it like I usually do. I couldn’t my whole yogi-yoda meditation shit. But it wasn’t too bad. I chose a house for this fbi scene I’m working on in a later chapter. Oh if you didn’t know already I literally go on google maps and look at houses and locations and stuff haha. I’m a fucking cheater ok.
Yesterday I literally went on a like a property website so I could look around a California house in Belvedere where I set this fbi scene. It was too good to be true, the house had a virtual tour, I could flip through pictures like I was walking through the place. It didn’t have any furniture but my mind ‘furnished’ it with … furniture. It really helped me visualise the scene. I felt more like a director than a writer. It was fun, still kinda pissed about my neck and it still hurts but I got a haircut today which has successfully eaten up all my writing time so I have turned to some self-indulgent whiney blogging instead.
And hark on the horizon, here comes my day job to fuck it all up again. So that’s happening.
I never really cared if this blog was doing well, it was more of a nice sounding board for me, just talking to myself then maybe when I’m long dead someone will look at it and say “Well he didn’t totally suck the sweat off a dead man’s balls”. But it’s perked up a little bit so that’s nice. Still can’t be fucked with that mailing list. GIMME YOUR FUCKING EMAILS! Why did that sound that Hillary Clinton in my head?

This was a pretty fun chapter to write, getting into some of the trippy dream stuff a little, strap in folks it’s only getting weirder from here.

As usual you can find the full chapter for no money down on inkitt;

Women in Fridges

Cya.

~

It’s cold, he awakes from his dream to the sound of running water. Cool night air brushes his cheek and he opens his eyes to see the bank of a stream leading into a larger river. He seemed to recognise it but couldn’t quite place it.

He was sitting on the bank of a stream under an overpass, but he couldn’t hear any cars going by. It was a cloudless night with a few stars tossed up into that mess of a sky. The moon was nowhere to be seen.

His back was against concrete. He was under one of the arches, his head felt heavy, it was hard to lift. He realised after some blank staring and heavy blinking that he was in a storm drain not on the bank of a river. He was lying on a raised embankment on the far side under the bridge. It was just cool dull yellow concrete lit by the ambient glow of the night as far as the eye could see. A trickle of a stream flowing under his feet. He saw a few whisks of grass in the distance beyond a chain link fence on the other side of the bridge.

His back felt wet as he leant against the wall. His legs splayed out in front of him in his work clothes, his black shoes covered in a film of light brown dust. His head felt dry and taught and it hurt to move his neck. He sat there for a minute trying to collect himself.

He leaned forward and pulled himself onto his knees. Crawling like a baby over to the small body of water running through the storm drain.

He splashed his face a couple of times and put a cold wet hand down the back of his neck. It felt dirty, the dry sweat made his clothes itch and hang heavy. He felt starched and sickly.

James looked down at his reflection. He looked tired he could taste blood. He bore his teeth, his gums were raw and dirty looking. He sucked his gums and spat a wad of blood into the trickle of water running through the storm drain.

It spread out fast. A brown and deep red viscous liquid hitting the water hard and dispersing as the stream started to pick up.

James stood up, stumbling. His flat shoes scraping away out from under his feet on the slick raised concrete under the overpass. He slipped back down to his knees with a bone jarring jolt. The fall sending questions all over his body, where is all this pain coming from?

The stream started to get faster and thicker and he didn’t know why, the sky hadn’t changed. Maybe a dam or sluice-gate opened. Were there any dams in California? Was he even still in California? He had to get out of there one way another. His heart started to pound, his mind rushing by trying to find answers to questions it hadn’t settled on.

Then a noise.

Plinking and then something larger, a splash and a hollow plonking sound. He walked out from under the overpass and looked up at the bridge. It was well lit with deco lamps lining either side only three or four feet apart. A waist high guard rail along the footpath. There were no cars pulled up along the side of the road, there were no cars going by. He waited thirty seconds but nothing came.

The stream was a black and dark brown like his blood now. Probably some filthy rain water from a storm drain higher up.

He squinted up and down the stream for what broke the water. Then he saw it, it was white which made it easy to pick out against the murk. It bobbed on the surface on the water like a fishing lure. It looked light but also hard and slick reflecting some dull twinge of moonlight from somewhere.

It crept closer to him bobbing in and out playfully. Before he could feel it. He was standing in the now knee high water. He stood unmoving watching it approach, taking shape in front of him. It was long and thin, delicate looking, it’s subtle curvature giving way to long thin fingers.

He bent down to pick it up.

It was the left forearm of a female mannequin. He starred at it quizzically, turning it around in his hands trying to discern its origin. He turned it over, there were scratches on the underside. Scratched on to its wrist were the words “SHE HAS DYED HER HAIR RED”.

He dropped the arm into the stream and it bobbed off down into the distance.

A torso, legs, hip, arms, hands, and a head, all the pieces, maybe more than one mannequin he couldn’t tell. He couldn’t know why just yet. They were blank, featureless, pale white parts. Perfect, only for the leaves and the debris that surrounded them in the vile manmade river.

He breathed in and out slow. The chill getting up his back, his shoes squelched full of water and silt, listening to the night music.

~

Women in Fridges

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