4/ Weird Movie
My first choice for this, previously, would have been Requiem For A Dream by Darren Aronofsky. I adore the film as much as it repulses and confuses/dazzles me.
But there is a new studio in town. We are talking a24 Films. The Boyfriend and I actively seek out their every release, because it is cinema with similarities to things we've seen in the past, but taken to such an extreme that there are actually films of theirs where I have had to cry uncle.
The first remains the best, a little film called In Fabric. It is wild. A feast for the senses. But the word weird doesn't even begin to cover the deviousness at hand. Go ahead. Watch it. Try to wrap your head around the mind that envisioned it and then brought it to life. Peter Strickland wrote and directed it. It's a masterwork.
But, what I want to highlight here is the studio. They have an odd gift for selecting films that take you outside your comfort zone and have you questioning what kind of human being you've become.
The latest one we watched is 2022's X, written and directed by Ti West. I'm not going to give anything away, but Brittany Snow and Kid Kudi are awesome in it, doing some very surprising things. If you're a fan of 1970's style horror, check this one out, it does not disappoint. It is weird in parts, but... well, you'll see.
A prequel is already in the can with a sequel is in the works.
But the winner? In Fabric. You will love it.
5/ Weird Behavior/Habit
I grew up loving mythology. Greek and Norse. I also grew up Catholic.
So, it should come as no surprise that I am a bit ritualistic. Let's chalk it up to magical thinking.
No, I don't believe in 'god' in any sense. Organized religion is a sham. I see that now. But... old habits die hard.
I have to go to the prairie super early on Fridays, before anyone gets there. And even if there are people there? I will still go through my little rituals to ensure that I have a good time and that the prairie is 'honored.'
Yes, I know. This is weird. But it gets weirder.
I must walk every trail. When I do this, I tell myself, I'm looking for garbage people have left behind. But, no... it's very important that I connect all the trails to one another.
I have to touch this tree that has fallen, because it was once a touchstone of the prairie and must be honored and remembered. I touch a spot next to it where another tree used to exist. I have to walk to the opposite end and stand on what's left of the stump of what was the cornerstone and largest tree. It lorded over the southwest corner. I stand on it and praise the prairie, thanking it and asking it to grow.
(See, I told you... wait it gets weirder.)
I have to visit every 'pod' - the little places people have carved out to lay their blankets down in the grass - and blow away all the negative energy that has gathered in each one, thus purifying the prairie. Then I stand on the stump of the tree in the middle of the prairie that was cut down three summers ago and I raise my hands like I'm in The Lion King or something and I praise the prairie and find it good.
I do all the praising in my head, of course. I don't actually say anything. But I do all the physical moving about.
Then, the last thing I must do is walk the entire perimeter of the prairie, in order to seal the energy and protect it from bad things happening, before connecting it, via my walking to the place where I have laid my blanket beneath the big oak, which is the heart of the prairie.
I know. I know....
But I do this every time. I have done this hundreds and hundreds of times. I know it's nuts. I don't know what I'm thinking. I just made up this weird mythology all on my own.
This summer, I have tried to break myself of the habit. But, even though I no longer do all the things in the order that I used to... throughout my afternoon at the prairie? I do them all. It's like I'm afraid of what might happen if I don't.
I might add that I am also convinced that the number of golf balls I find on my way to the prairie represents the number of men I will find of interest at the prairie that day.
So, yes... I'm an atheist. But I'm addicted to mythology and rituals.
And now that I've actually typed all this out? I have to say, I'm a little embarrassed.
It's stupid, I know. But... this is what happens when you spend way too much time alone as a child making up stories in a creepy basement.
Well, at least all the litter gets picked up!
6/ Weird Word
Perpendicular - Always disappointed when its not about a pickled pepper.
Synergy - What happens when you meet someone who is as into you as you are into them.
Dulcimer - It sounds like one of my hick, hillbilly, bucktoothed cousins.
Integrity - Part of the great 'lost language.' Doubtful to return to use anytime soon.
Wisteria - What happens when you are chronically nostalgic, manically longing for yesteryear.
Scapula - A spatula used to serve scallop potatoes
7/ Weird Place
Basically? Any place I am standing.
Wait. I know... on the east side of the Mississippi, there is an old cruising spot. I haven't been in years and years, but when the place was active? It was an insane trip.
You walk along the sidewalk/bike path that runs parallel with the river. There is this iron fencing encased in years of brush that prevents you from seeing the actual river. You find this tiny opening which leads to a super long, narrow metal staircase and begin your descent. To your right, you can see this open area with all sorts of paths cut into it. It's night and all that foliage entwined in the fence that surrounds the east side blocks out most of the street light from above, leaving this eerie glow overhead, almost like a dome. And that's what it feels like as you descend into this eerie labyrinth.
At the bottom of the stairs, you must pause and allow your eyes to adjust. it's so dark. Depending on the hour (after bar rush in the summer, for example) people in various states of dress will parade by you. Once your eyes adjust, you join the flow. From this point on, it's anyone's guess. There are old tables and chairs scattered throughout, housed in various little coves and openings. Dudes are bent over naked or sitting stroking their dicks. As it's your first time through, you just keep walking, taking it all in, stumbling on group activity and one on one couplings. It's a little like walking down the hallway of The Overlook Hotel and all the doors are open. Someone's getting whipped. Someone else is a human urinal. So much to take in.
It's a dungeon. It's Berlin. Its the smoke of whiskey kisses. The penultimate sin - the ultimate being... that place from which we may never return.
But, you tell yourself, - you're merely a tourist - walking among many other tourists. The brave? The foolish? They join in. The lucky, stumble upon someone with whom they end up experiencing enough of a connection to lead to hidden corners. The rest of us? We walk around and around, like empty sex zombies in search of that one thing that's conspicuously absent.
This scene? It played out for years and years, every Friday and Saturday night. I only witnessed it once. Once was enough. It was strangely beautiful, exotic and erotic, but it also left me cold. Shook me cold, actually. I felt it in my bones that this... was not for me. Men would approach, but I'd feel nothing.
Instead, I navigated yet another long narrow staircase, this one leading to the bank of the river. Along it, paths twist in and out of the trees which dot and knot the shoreline. Here, with the light of the moon dancing on the water - that's where I would find my joy; in among the rocks which stand bathed in shadows, like ancient ruins.
But that level above? It lingers. It haunts. It's the midway sideshow for which I wish I'd never purchased a ticket.
One gets a sense of such a place and it remains within forever. This? You somehow knew.
And now? This you know.
8/ Weird Thought
I frequently question whether I died back in 1996 or in 2006 and my brain just keeps processing and producing these images and circumstances which I consider 'my life.' As if a dream, that none of what I'm experiencing is real, but merely a product of my fevered imagination which is the form my life energy has been transformed.
Therefore, nothing here can truly hurt me and there is no end to this.
I don't see myself dying.
Ever.
I don't fear it. I just don't see it as a possibility.
9/ Weird Job/Task
Picking rocks. Out of corn fields before planting. A lot of rocks in those fields.
Feeding chickens at a huge industrial chicken farm. It was heartbreaking. The anguish and powerlessness I felt have stayed with me. I did it one week and never again. One of the reasons I became a vegetarian. I think if more people had to do this for a week, we'd have a lot more vegetarians.
Animals simply deserve better lives. They are not fodder.
10/ Weird Hobby/Collection
As a kid, my mother blindly picked out something for each of her children to collect. Mine? Matchbooks. I, to this day, have this huge box of matchbooks from the 1950's, 60's and 70's. I have no idea what to do with them. They're interesting little artifacts representing business and products that no longer exist, but... they're matchbooks.
I've written at length about my found underwear collection. The prairie, parking lots, the gym, dressing rooms... men just seem to love losing their drawers. I already found my pair for this year. They have a detachable pouch with a built in cock ring and a giant slit in the rear for easy access. Found at a rest stop in Wisconsin. Some trucker must have been getting fucked in the bushes and left them behind.
They're mine now, bitch.
