#quentin tarantino ate with kill bill

[c-nan]

BEATRIX “THE BRIDE” KIDDO

[wienners]

"dude its not that embarassing to rewatch some creepypasta stuff you liked as a teenager" the character i imprinted on like a baby duck at 16 was a demon from new jersey that acts like the humanization of every offspring song and canonically listens to scissor sisters. His favorite color is purple and his favorite pokemon are gengar and haunter. His favorite candy is reeses cups. He leaves people notes with emojis on them. He acts like a beetlejuice scare actor at halloween horror nights. His catchphrase is "feeling sassy?" Hes (allegedly) worked with every war criminal throughout history and been every serial killer. even the gay ones. He ate a baby. His animal motif is a rabbit. Hes kind of based off the donnie darko rabbit. He almost exclusively wears merchandise of the quentin tarantino movie death proof. He talks to his cats in a baby voice. He wears a white fedora that makes every video he wears it in feel dated by like 7 years. Hes 5'3. Sometimes he barks like a dog. Hes from new jersey. He hacked a girls tumblr blog so he could post about how awesome he is. He added a laugh track over a video of him killing people. He named a chainsaw rex. He torments people by playing frank sinatra at them. His name comes from an animal collective song. His creator drew his "true form" as a giant buff wolf bug anthro. Theres a (semi)canon blog entry where he makes the speakers blare rob zombie before he enters a room, then holds a guy at gunpoint to describe what he did to to him while "making sure to leave in all the cool parts". The guy hes possessing has radioactive blood. He tried for 2 whole minutes to pick up a bottle of ketchup with a grabby hand. Hes kind of suicidal.He can be reasonably compared to pretty much every major tumblr sexyman. His actor has gone on record saying heath ledgers joker inspired his acting choices. His creators were too attached to him to permanently kill him at the end of the series. Sometimes his voice gets distorted and it makes him sound like bill ciphers first year on HRT. Hes basically like my artistic muse. For some fucking reason i associate the song cake by the ocean with him. I firmly believe that if everymanhybrid didn't require a masters degree in creepypasta autism to comprehend, he would've caused more teenage stabbings than the slenderman incident and more kin war tumblr scenarios than nagito komaeda.

[mirohtron]

HEY GIRL

Watched / read anything good recently?

was watching dungeon meshi but then that gay ahh bath scene came on and my moms in the room w me so like 💀💀💀💀 reading 1984 rn bcs assignment, im ten pages in bcs i keep fawking playing honkai star rail 😭😭😭 omg, but i was in the midst of watching dil se before i realised i was getting distracted too easily and it was keeping me from enjoying it properly. was only watching it bcs i couldnt find bombay (1995, not the city 💀💀) anywhere. probs bcs nobody gaf abt archiving desi movies 😭😭😭😭 its tough out here, but like for dil se honestly i rlly liked the screenplay and the way it was directed even tho like . i literally only got to the first song of the film 💀💀 even then. also oh my god srk has not a SINGLE dancing bone in his body like ive bitched abt it before but oml hrithik roshan and tiger shroff are actually carrying the reputation of bollywood's male actor's dancing abilities on their back....now if only theyd stop FAWKING taking up propaganda films 😭😭😭

i actually kinda need to leave a separate paragraph for how bad srk dances like its not just when he was young...in chaiyya chaiyya literally EVERYBODY is on beat except him....and it KEELS me because ure telling me u cant keep tempo ??? brother 😭😭😭😭😭 but ok even in the present like, he stays on beat (barely) but hes SO STIFF?? i like saw some clip of him dancing with an actress, it mightve been deepika padukone in happy new year ??? oh my god it was SO bad. he was SO stiff. it KILLED me. bollywood actress go through HELL but sanjay dutt srk and a bunch of other male actors get away with not being able to dance well 😭😭😭😭 my queen kareena kapoor took dance classes before filming k3g yet srk and amitabh bacchan got away w shava shava....Sick and Twisted world we live in like....anyway i actually dk if thalapthy vijay is a bhakt but this is y he solos even tho i have verithanam trauma....sings n dances well etc, this is y bollywood flops consistently actually

pls take that paragraph lightheartedly if ure desi 💔 ok anyway

the god of small things by arundhati roy is good....i only read like 20 pages tho but ik plot 💀💀💀💀 i think the seven moons of maali almeida might also b good, its by shehan karunatilaka

ok last unfinished thing im gna recommend....Hot Tkae but....i liked saltburn...i still have the 2nd half of the movie to finish (stopped some time after the reveal) but again, ik the plot 😭 i still have some problems w it tho but its not rlly abt the hypersexuality. cinematography fucked. 4:3 aspect ratio choice? ATE. SO BADD. but ill also need to finish the film. but tbh its obsessed boy x rich boy trope wasnt rlly handled well in my opinion, micah nemerever's these violent delights solos in that area. and i think the story is flawed

ok NOW. i liked fleabag. actually i LOVED fleabag. think its a masterpiece. both seasons but esp the 2nd one (felt more refined but compared to other shows, s1 SOLOS). the boys s4 is dropping!! invincible s2 was alr i bet the animation studio suffered hard tho bcs wtf was that style change mid season 😭😭😭. and i don't rlly think the direction in which Nolan's character arc is gna go to will turn out that great? also, i loved gerta gerwig's ladybug! its actually crazy how she made ladybug and barbie both . one is amazing. the other is well uhm.

oh also i liked inglourious basterds and pulp fiction . quentin tarantino kinda looks like a walking talking serial killer mugshot tho i saw an interview where he was asked why kill bill had so much violence and was honestly surprised by how girlypop he was. not forgetting him choking diane kruger on set tho !

watched batman begins. it was aight 😭 rewatched matt reeves' batman right after. liked it betterr. i LOVEDDD heartbreak high, s1 and s2 !! usually with shows i only like s1 best, but w heartbreak high i literally ADOREDDD s2, the finale was so good !!! im also watching the gentlemen (the show) rn, and i rllyyy like it hehe. tried watching tick tick boom again bcs I'd actually dropped it midway when it had first released bcs that one scene where she was like "you're thinking of a song rn aren't you" was so stress inducing that I had 2 click away 💀💀 n then i forgot abt it. picked it up again and omg it's actually so good how did I miss it the first time 😭😭😭

oh yeah I also liked the fall of the house of usher . also ! another incompleted thing but im also in the midst of watching the three of us (film). its so good !! i loved the atmosphere and cast performances can't wait 2 see how it turns out :))

[henriqueguthblog]

Filmes que recomendo para assistir

Lista que eu recomendo de 15 melhores filmes para voce assistir: 1) Clube da Luta (1999) 2) Tenacius D 3) Forest Gump (1994) 4) A.I Inteligencia Artificial 5) Kill Bill 1&2 (2003) 6) Entrevista com Vampiro (1994) 7) 28 Days Later (2002) 😎 Eu, Robô (2004) 9) Sherlock Holmes (2009) 10) Click (Adam Sandler, 2006) 11) Ponyo (Estudio Ghibli 2008) 12) O Mundo Imaginário de Dr. Parnassus (2009) 13) Planeta Terror (Quentin Tarantino, 2007) 14) Interstellar 5555 15) Woodstock - 3 Dias de Paz, Amor e Música (1970)

17 melhores séries de filmes que te recomendo assistir: 1) Matrix 2) Harry Potter 3) Blade, o Caçador de Vampiros 4) Senhor dos Aneis e Hobbit 5) Exterminador do Futuro 6) Jurassic Park e Jurassic World 7) Piratas do Caribe 😎 Transformers 9) Todo Mundo em Pânico 10) Todos da Disney e Pixar 11) Austin Powers 12) Serie de Filmes de Dan Brown ( O código da Vince, Anjos e Demonios, Inferno) 13) Todas da Marvel ate agora (Especialmente Doutor Estranho no Multiverso da Loucura, Homem-Aranha no Aranhaverso, Homem- Formiga e a Vespa, e Guardiões da Galaxia 1 ate o 3). 14) Velozes e Furiosos 15) Riddick 16) Star Wars 17) M.I.B.

[avanneman]

Call My Agent!—They’ll always have Paris, because they f*cking live there

Searching for six hours—well, more like 315 minutes—of Trump-free consciousness? Then, if you haven’t already, sign up for Netflix and check out Dix Pour Cent, aka 10 Percent, aka Call My Agent! (which is what Netflix calls it), a catch as catch can tale of agents, actors, directors, wives, mistresses, boyfriends, sons, daughters, and other hangers on in the City of Light, all revolving around that most important, or at least most self-important, of all worlds, le cinéma.

I wish I could write an intelligent review of Call My Agent!, but, well, I can’t. Usually when I write my reviews I cheat a little (or a lot) by relying on Wikipedia or somebody so I can identify all the characters, and the actors who play them, and not make any glaring errors in my plot summaries, etc., but in this case I can’t because, sadly, Call My Agent! doesn’t seem to be that much of a thing—only one season (of two) is available in the U.S.—so I’m pretty much a trail-blazer here and I won’t be providing much more than a once over easy on this one. I’m particularly at a loss because the series features numerous cameos from famous French film folk, about whom I unfortunately know nothing.

We begin with a crisis, of course. In la vie de Bohème life without a crisis is no life at all, but rather death. Agent Gabriel Sarda (Grégory Montel) is struggling with a tempestuous diva, Cécile, who is struggling to learn how to ride a horse, which she had earlier, and falsely, claimed she knew how to do. But her burden is small compared to Gabriel’s, because he’s learned that the deal of a lifetime—of several, in fact—a trilogy with Quentin Tarantino—oui, that Quentin Tarantino!—has fallen through because Quentin thinks Cécile’s too old. Too old! Jesus! Why not just kill her? It would be so much more humane!

But for the moment there’s a more immediate crisis, one that, fortunately, is a lot more manageable. Cécile isn’t supposed to be out riding a horse. She’s supposed to be in Paris for some sort of photo shoot at some impossibly stunning salon that, unless you’re Louis Quatorze, you can’t possibly afford. Gabriel brings her in, still reeking of the stable, but, never mind, Cécile may not be able to ride a thoroughbred, but she is one. A quick wardrobe change and she makes the room look shabby. Mission accomplished! Well, the easy part.

Gabriel knows all too well that discretion is the better part of valor, by far, so he leaves the bad news for later. He has to get back to the agency, ASK, aka Samuel Kerr Agency, because Samuel Kerr, the founding father and beloved papa, is going on vacation, for the first time in his life! Gabriel makes it back just in time, giving us a glimpse of the rest of the cast, including Papa Samuel (Alain Rimoux), the Yves Montand-ish Mathias Barneville (Thibault de Montalembert), a cute gay guy, a couple of seen it all French broads (okay, they’re all French, but these are like French French—old French), and Andréa Martel (Camille Cottin), who, it will emerge, is a bit of a diva on her own.

While the farewell party is going on, a sweet jeune fille wanders in. “Just give me your resume,” Sofia, the stunning biracial receptionist (Stéfi Celma), tells her briskly (in French, of course). “We’ll get back to you.” But shy Camille (Fanny Sidney) isn’t an actress. She just wants to see M. Barneville, and, no, she doesn’t have an appointment. “He’s very busy,” Sofia tells her. But when summoned Mathias appears with surprising quickness. Do we have a plot? I think we do!

Mathias is not at all happy to see Camille, suggesting that she is either his mistress or his bastard, and his nervous line of questioning strongly suggests the latter. Camille is newly arrived in Paris, from that region of France that is, basically, not Paris. She clearly likes the place and isn’t planning on leaving, even though she has not a euro, and even though Mathias clearly isn’t planning on giving her one.

While Mathias is struggling to get rid of his bastard daughter, Andréa is getting all boss from Hell on her helpless assistant, who can’t keep track of all the people she’s lying to on Andréa’s behalf, or even remember which lies she told whom. Plus, there’s Andréa’s love life. She’s into chicks, but there’s a lot of turnover, and it’s hard to remember who she’s avoiding and who she’s screwing, in part because Andréa can’t always remember herself. The assistant, acting out every assistant’s dreams, tells Andréa to take a taxi to enfer. She storms out of Andréa’s office, out into the reception area, where waif Camille is still wandering about in confusion.

“All right then, go to Hell!” shouts Andréa (more or less). “You! Are you looking for a job?”

The answer to that question is not no, and so off we go into the wonderful world of dix pour cent. “We have no lives,” Andréa explains. Their clients are their lives. They live in shitty apartments, they have no money, no husbands, no children, no nothing! But what do they have? They have art! They are the unseen, unheralded, yet all-important grease without whom the adamantine wheels of artistic ego would shatter one another to pieces and bring the sacred world of cinema to a splintering halt.

Yes, the life of an agent is always Hell, but it’s about to get a lot tougher for the folks at ASK, because scarcely has Papa Sam reached his vacation destination—the sunny beaches of Brazil—than the word comes back that he’s dead! Dead? How is this even possible, demands Mathias from the officious official informing them of Samuel’s decease. “He ate a wasp,” the official explains—that being, apparently, the sort of answer you get from the French government when something bad happens.1

Sam’s death is a particular stunner because he was, clearly, the only grown-up at the agency. Gabriel, Mathias, Andréa, and all the rest blink like kittens suddenly exposed to sunlight. We have to pay our bills now? And our taxes? But Sam always took care of that!

ASK’s problems continue to mount. Sam owned a controlling share of the agency, and he died intestate, so all his shares pass to his widow, Hélène (Gabrielle Forest). She’s a grand old femme, to be sure, but how do we know that the grand old femme won’t sell us all out and retire to the Riviera? Blood is in the water and the sharks are circling. And what about our clients? Those artists don’t give a damn about anyone or anything but themselves!

The uncertainty puts a double strain on the standard uncertainty of the dix pour cent business—the constant caressing, cajoling, and hand-holding of friend and foe alike, deceiving your friends and servicing your foes, running madly to stay in place on a frenzied carousel. But—and here is the kicker—somehow it all works. The lies that seem to lead to disaster lead instead to art! The two deadly enemies you booked for the same film, for the director they both loathe? “I can use that energy,” the director gloats, rubbing his hands together in glee. That impossible director who brings in everything over budget and overdue? His reworking of the memoirs of the duc de Saint-Simon is a smash!2

Yes, the madeleines here are a bit too sweet, too candy-coated—too many grand receptions, shoots, and gatherings in impossibly elegant surroundings, too many pretty girls waiting on “you” hand and foot, so much 18th-century privilege handed out to our 21st-century strivers/survivors.3 Even Andréa’s apartment, which was supposed to be a mess, is a little gem. People in Paris have killed for less—for far less—I’m sure.

As the first season ends, the gang at ASK, having survived everything, even a government audit, gather to drink Sam’s private stock of whiskey to celebrate a coup that’s going to assure that the agency will remain independent. Alas, the coup doesn’t quite come off, but so what? They aren’t dead yet, and there’s nothing wrong with getting drunk on the boss’s whiskey. Besides, as one of the old broads puts it, “Whenever I get depressed I go to a movie and that cheers me up.”

Okay, way too on the nose, but I enjoyed myself without the boss’s whiskey. Hey, Nextflix! Season deux! Now!

Afterwords Dix Pour Cent, directed by “César winning” director Cédric Klapisch, gives an unconscious representation of the “Paris Provincial” world consciously presented in Julie Delpy’s Two Days in Paris4—an incestuous assembly of self-indulgent enablers whose feckless life is made possible both by the extraordinary artistic treasures of Paris and massive government subsidies (largely funded, in turn, by taxes on Hollywood films), in the illusion that they are adding to those treasures.5 It’s also reminiscent of Hollywood films like Woody Allen’s Café Society and Martin Scorcese’s The Aviator, which simultaneously “expose” and sentimentalize Tinsel Town.

Sam’s cause of death is grounds for a funny running gag as the cast must repeatedly explain to grieving friends from other agencies that, no, Sam did not die in an orgy. But why else would one go to Brazil? A wasp? Are you sure? ↩︎

Many of the “impossible” people here are celebrities playing themselves, which would be a lot funnier if I knew who they were. ↩︎

Le meilleur century for the French was really the 17th—in the 18th they got their asses kicked by the British too often—but the 18th looks more comfortable. ↩︎

Delpy starred in the film, wrote, directed, produced, and edited the film, and also composed the score. Charlie Chaplin, eat your heart out! (Actually, Chaplin matched Delpy, although he sometimes had help with the script and he always had help—a lot of help—with the music.) ↩︎

There is, unsurprisingly, not a hijab in sight, and the few blacks we see are seamlessly integrated into French society. Hey, this show is about escaping your problems, not solving them. ↩︎

[pridesofblack]

Tarantino Speaks About "Kill Bill: Vol.3"

Quentin Tarantino as of late showed up on Andy Cohen's radio show, disclosing the conceivable spin-off of Kill Bill. Tarantino said "it's unquestionably among the conceivable outcomes dair of a third film, drove by Uma Thurman. Tarantino said he is still in converses with Thurman about the venture. Expressing that it is consistently as a main priority to make a spin-off of the Kill Bill arrangement, the chief included that until further notice, it isn't sure. Subterranean insect We ate with Uma Thurman the previous evening, we were at an extremely incredible Japanese café. I disclosed to her I had an inventive thought regarding what to do. I need to do? "also, included, Sadece I simply would not like to come on a plain character experience. The Bride doesn't merit this. He battled for quite a while. Presently I have a thought that may be fascinating. Regardless of whether I conclude that, I probably won't do it immediately. Starting now and into the foreseeable future I need to hold up at any rate three years, however the task is unquestionably in front of me. " For quite a while, it was examined that the young lady of Vernita Green in the arrangement could be a spin-off in which her mom would deliver retribution. Truth be told, it is supposed that the entertainer who plays the young lady might be in the film again with her present age. Tarantino appears to have relinquished this situation and restored the task with an entirely different thought. We'il know precisely what this is on the off chance that he chooses to shoot it. On the off chance that the venture is acknowledged, it will be Tarantino's tenth movie and will undoubtedly end his coordinating profession. Read the full article

[wildflowerfiction77]

Burning Bridges 1

Burning Bridges

By Daniel Vera

8/23/2019 8:41pm

 A Story

A story of revelation.  A story of Heaven and Hell.  A story of love and fate.  A story of truth and fame.  A story of lies and pain.  A story of real and fake.  A story of lose and gain.  A story of friends and music.  A story of betrayal and death.  A story of the entire world and one mind.  A story of Hollywood and a story of forgotten people.  A story of rolled dice.  A story of lost love or never real.  A story of family decimated.  A story of a hidden treasure at the bottom of the sea.  A story of pyramids.  A story of ancient myth.  A story of future visions.  A story of spirits and man.  A story of warring armies.  A story of blank checks with no pen.  A story of a burning buildings in New York.  A story of gangs and government.  A story of black holes in Hollywood.  A story of hidden cameras and naked actors.  A story of Atlantis.  A story of superheroes.  A story of vampires and zombies.  A story of Bruce Lee and Nazi America.  A story of dead poets.  A story of songs sung by Mozart and Taylor Swift.  A story of the Military, CIA and MK Ultra.  A story of cartoons and rap music.  A story from a galaxy far far away.  A story of approaching comets.  A story of 33.  A story of black and white.  A story of Red Skins.  A story of nuclear war.  A story of blue water in the sky.  A story of James Bond and Gilbert Grape.  A story of TV commercials.  A story of fat kids.  A story of ninjas and samurai.  A story of rebellion and anarchy.  A story of dragons and phoenix.  A never ending story.  White tigers and black turtles.  Buffalo women and tobacco.  Hummingbirds and Butterflies.  Flowers and Hearts.  Stars and Sky.  Earth and Moon.  Dreams and walking...

 Dreams

I awoke in my pajamas.  It was a normal day like any other day.  I had 15 days to make $500 to pay the rent.  I had an ex girlfriend that butt dialed me while she was partying.  I listened for around ten minutes to see if I could hear if she was with a guy or having sex.  I couldn’t tell and so I hung up the phone.  I hated her because my heart felt pain every time I though of her with someone else and I knew she didn’t deserve it.  I guess it might have been the times that there was a genuine love that was being created, like the countless hours of laying in bed and staring at each others eyes while sharing kisses and caressing fingertips.  Or the unexpected gifts to encourage me to become a stronger man.  The late night fights where I sat at the locked bedroom door pleading to be let in, while she wept in bed because she got jealous of another woman she thought I was staring at when we went shopping.  Or the years of waking up next to her as the sunlight broke through the curtains and staring at her sleeping with a golden light shinning on her brown skin. red lips and black messy hair.  Or the times my arm fell asleep underneath her head as we cuddled for as long as possible until we had to readjust to find a diagonal leg and arm pattern, still crossing touch.  Then I thought about all the times she destroyed my heart and continued my day. 

I began walking on the air to meet with God.  We had scheduled a few meetings.  The great creator always knew I would be late.  I guess God knew me pretty well and adjusted time itself to add the twenty minutes for me to catch the 9:14 cloud.  On this day we talked about the meaning of struggle.  I had been having this reoccurring dream about being crushed by wave after wave in the ocean, and not being able to catch my breath.  God reassured me that the waves were meant to strengthen me and that I wouldn’t drown.  Although it was somewhat comforting to hear, I rebutted that the dream felt real and it was causing me stress.  I had felt that the waves were unneeded and they were keeping me from being able to recover from previous ailments that I was still healing from.  God just smiled and looked at me with grace.  When I left the office I was thinking of some toast and jam, since I had forgotten to eat before I left.  I did thank the Great Spirit that gives life and did say some prayers before scheduling a meeting a few months later and commenting on the beautiful flowers to the secretary.  It was a good meeting.

I then proceeded to fighting monsters and saving damsels.  I thought I was doing pretty good.  It was almost like living in a movie, where you get to be Conan.  But I didn’t realize it was all the parts where he was being held captive, being tricked or stuck in a room full of mirrors.  So I turned the channel to see if I could find out another version of the same story that was a little more modern.  That's when the television went static and I started howling with the old mystics from the Dark Crystal.  I had fallen asleep to that movie, and somehow I was joining in the call to gather the ones that were left to make the journey.  I thought it was just a happenstance, until the small town started to share a video that someone had recorded, until it became the new thing.  They made a dance, a soft drink, a Netflix show, chicken and pizza commercials, the next 5 years of billion dollars movies, including Star Wars, was about it.  They even started bombing countries and making new religions.  It was crazy.  There wasn’t a TV or movie screen that it wasn’t on every five minutes for years.  I even saw it on Facebook.

Then they the military started burning the forest to sell lemonade and electric cars that still used oil and nuclear power.  This is when I knew something was going on.  Then a bunch of ex presidents started appearing in Kanye West videos and Quentin Tarantino movies with “kiss me, I am Jewish” stickers on their foreheads.  This is when I knew things were getting out of control of even the CIA.  The girl scouts started selling machine guns to the homeless.  The TV news people were smoking joints, eating hot dogs and advertising “Shamoo”.  The comedians began making signs to love one another and became civil rights politicians and activists.  They didn’t say any good jokes though.  I’m not sure why, but the politicians began making everyone laugh.  It was a circus that was only topped by Silicon Valley taking Ubers to Outer Space.  They said they were going to mars, but they took too much LSD and ended up going too far, and circled back to China, not knowing it was a parallel universe and they were lost.  Meanwhile on earth, the Patriots won another Superbowl which made ten in a row.  Everyone dressed in Captain America costumes during a white rappers reunion, singing country songs with the Spice Girls paying tribute to all the musicians that were killed in the last seven years.  It was a really long half time show.  Its still going on.  Kapernick has Snoop Dogg braiding his hair while they start a venture capital business with Donald Trump and Kevin Spacey for a Martha Stuart line of hemp products at Walmart.  The hemp is really Monsanto bio engineered, but they figure they’re burning down the Amazon in Brazil, no one will notice.  

So I turned off the TV and ate some waffles.  My ex girlfriend left some blueberries in the freezer, so I used those with some peanut butter and jam and butter.  As I started eating the five stack, I saw something moving out my window.  I saw Miley Cyrus twerking on the front lawn.  I looked at the waffles and thought maybe there was something weird in the ingredients.  Then George Bush, the CIA guy, was dancing with her and I knew the waffles had some weird shit going on, so I threw them in the garbage.  Fucken ruined my breakfast.  Every five minutes I looked out the front window to see if they had left, and sure enough, they were still there, except they would change faces.  Next was the Rock and Scarlette Johanson, then Bill Gates and the Queen of England, then the White Stripes.  I thought it might have been the blueberries.  She said she ordered them from Ashton Kusheten, and that dush liked to play jokes on people, and started doing Bruce Willies wife, so I figured that was it.  They must have been laced with something.  I took a nap till they wore off.  

The next day I was able to make it to the car without anything super weird happening.  Someone did steal my Bruce Lee movies and my kids toys from the car.  I must have left the window open.  I knocked door to door around the neighborhood to ask if anyone had seen anything weird, other than Miley Cyris.  It dawned on me that I never spoke to any of my neighbors for the five years I had lived in the house.  The first house was a bunch of cats sitting around a living room.  They were doing yoga and smoking huka, so everything they said sounded like cats fighting underwater.  I didn’t get any answers.  The next house was three little pigs and a wolf.  They were watching the news and eating cereal.  They said they had just moved in and didn’t see anything.  It was peculiar that they had a giant poster of me in their kitchen.  I figured they must be fans.  They smelled like weed.  Every house had some fairytale vibe to it, or a Disney cartoon.  Squirrels, Vikings, Revenge of the Nerds, even a Steven King house.  The last one was a Dukes of Hazard reunion.  They were cooking burgers on the bar b que, and they were nice enough to have the girl in Daisy Dukes make me a quarter pounder with cheese.  We started seeing each other.  I called her when I got horny and she would come over.  I still didn’t find my stolen stuff.  I figured Karma would make the rounds.  

When I drove away, I started seeing smoke.  I wasn’t sure where it was coming from.  It didn’t seem to be originating from the car, so I started looking around.  Planes were flying past me and leaving these trails of smoke, but that wasn’t it.  I looked in my rear view mirror and saw burning bridges across the whole country.  That's when I knew who stole my Bruce Lee movies.  

  Meat and Cattle

 In a long dark cavern, I saw a few faces staring in front of sunlight, casting shadows like dancing puppets.  They had orders to submerge me into submission, by who, I wasn’t sure.  During that time, there was a lot of turmoil happening in the world and in the small town in which I was living.  It seemed that the local white power groups were stock pilling machine guns and ammunition.  They would have weekly fight club gatherings in the mountains and practice military drills to kill “niggers, Jews and spics”, and now the Chinese and Russians.  I guess they were Irish and Scottish, but probably a mixed breed of good ol’ boys.  

I’m not sure how “the gays” became part of the picture, but they arrived in droves.  They all gathered at Duff Tavern, a place in the Simpsons cartoon.  It was absolutely insane.  Along with the Trans community, there were hipsters, hopsters, fibsters, and mobsters.  Not to mention, some pretty hot women in the form of pixies and catholic nuns.  On the jukebox was Rage Against the Machine, because sometimes I would hack the airwaves, just to annoy the patrons.  The Clamsters would stand watch outside while the Bob Dylan look a likes would secretly grow weed and sell it to Colorado, Texas and New York.  They had a good set up going.  They would smuggle pounds of grass in their beards.  When asked why their beard was green by the police or FBI, all they would have to say is it was an Irish thing.  It seemed to work.  

But after a few years, the government went in and started replacing some of the farms with robots.  The robots would answer to the Matrix and all was well for a while.  I noticed this because I lived in the small town and would often have art shows and play music with the other monkeys.  Sometimes on the news they would televise a social order black ops operation.  In the war of the weeds, all the multi-armed gangs would hide in the mountains behind trees and rocks.  They would shoot at each other just to make sure no one was stealing their crops.  The cops didn’t mind, since they would get a part of the profit, and sometimes the whole thing, depending on orders from the FBI, and ultimately the CIA and Homeland Security.  

They would cut up a cow and leave it hanging upside down to attract the wolves.  They caught a lot of wolves that way and turned them into guard dogs.  The cats had to be more careful since they were house cats, and not the Lions they wanted to be.  Some of them thought they were Tigers, but that was just something on TV.  It was a long summer.  Everyone was waiting for 2012 and aliens.  They would give palm readings and read the cards on your forehead to make sure you were a monkey.  God forbid you might be Godzilla.  That would mean you were Japanese and those nips tried to bomb Pearl Harbor in a movie made by Steven Spielberg in the 80’s.  

The new threat in Los Angels was the threat of the Mexicans and particularly, the Zapatistas.  So the U. S. planted a tariff on marijuana distribution.  Although they needed the plant to help with cancer and injured vets brains, they had to make sure they could use that extra money for more robots.  They started pumping all that money into Silicon Valley and I Phones.  They needed to make sure Facebook would convince people that everyday is business as usual.  No one can have a new thought, it would counter balance the already shaky control system that sat upon fake money.  So to go with the fake money, they created fake news, fake wars, fake presidents, fake jobs, fake laws, fake food, fake causes, fake movies, fake soap operas, fake drugs, fake toilets, fake videos, fake people on the internet, fake names to go with those people, fake gang wars, fake drug busts, fake homeless people, fake housing crisis, fake TMZ news, fake Kanye, fake cake, fake husbands and wives, fake kids, fake Wall Street, and fake music.  Along with those fakory items, they made fake laws and juried trials.  I saw a documentary on Netflix.  It could have been fake.  

  The Cafe

 I would go to the cafe daily.  It was like a meditation.  Sometimes I would play music there, sometimes I would draw.  I always noticed the same faces.  Once in a while, a gorgeous red head or brunette would come sit at my table and flirt with me over a mocha.  At this time I was through with blonds, kinda like Arnolds’ “Total Recall” movie.  It was a good five years.  I never had so many Red Sparrows fly to my window at once.  I was a greedy kid at the ice cream shop, so I tried all the flavors.  This town was a small concentrated town, so I didn’t know they were connected to all the gangs in the world.  I didn’t know that they have been hunting savages for generations, and they had marked me as soon as I grew some pubic hairs.  They already had submitted my parents and were working on the rest of the Wu Tang Clan.  So when I found out, I tried to warn everyone, but it was too late, they had already turned or were captured.  The Cladavors had used Aliens to possess each other and play role playing games to kill the time.  

They did pay well, from all that weed and coke money.  They gave my ex boat rides and free soda.  They even gave all of the Clan free weed fields and free cars and houses.  But really, they had to do a lot of favors in return, like video tape me having sex with gorgeous women and then they would make fake porn and put it on the fake dark web.  The pink clampers liked to watch those between football games and CSI.  They made a lot of money from those as well.  Meanwhile, I was figuring out what kind of mocha I wanted.  I wrote a lot of letters during that time and finished a lot of paintings.  I learned how to sing, and practiced on my mating skills.  Every time I would walk outside, I saw five clams and three turtle doves.  My stomach hurt a few times, but the Doctor reassured me that I was fine and had nothing to worry about.  So I kept eating ice cream, since it was free.  I got good at it, I could have won a contest or the Olympics.

But then my arch rival appeared in the form of my ex.  She got even better looking and I got fat from all the ice cream.  I was still practiced up, but she had some Kriptonite on me.  I didn’t realize she had been zombified as well.  I wasn’t sure if it was the same quirks or new ninja moves she was using on me.  One thing that was sure, was that she always won.  It frustrated me to the point of no return.  She kept coming back to me for more ice cream, but I refused to share.  I threw it in the freezer along with my heart.  When she stopped calling, I pulled my heart out, but it stayed cold for too long, and I had thought it died.  I put it in a vase and watered it every now and again.  Mostly just wrote poems about it.  

Eventually I stopped going to the cafe, since that was the place that I had met her.  I started making instant coffee, then started brewing my own from a used coffee machine that had a timer and automatic alarm clock built in.  Every time I would drink a special brew, I would remember the mocha’s we shared.  I would see pictures of her on Facebook once in awhile drinking mocha's with Asheton Klamster.  That really pissed me off.  Then she got the role as Wonder Woman.  It was like, “what the fuck?”  Fuckn Taylor Swift and Kanye, Miley and Mickey, Goons and Goblins, Jews and Gentiles, Obama and Trump, Star Wars and Dumpsters, Guns and Weed.  All I needed now was my family to turn on me and the Government to MK Ultra me.  I saw Bluebirds in the midst of Project Damn Daniel.  It was astounding.  It was almost like they had watched the Dark Crystal too.  

They got me on the run, and then I saw Kapernick with an Afro.  I had thought he was Middle Eastern.  Then all of a sudden, blond people started showing up.  They were dancing naked everywhere I went.  I would go to the grocery store, and there they were.  I would go to the bank, and there they were.  I would go to the book store, and there they were.  At first I thought they were some kind of religious group, then I concluded that they were a rock band in a video game.  I had saw it advertised on a commercial a few years prior.  It was a game from MK Tupac.  I had read it in a New World Order book from the early 1900’s.  Carl Jung and Sigmund Freud co-wrote it.  That’s when my brother called me to ask me how I was doing.

The only answer I had was “How the fuck do you think I’m doing?”  Then my first ex called to tell me she’s having another baby and if I wanted to co-sign for a new car.  I was like, “Bitch, I haven’t seen you since the 1800’s, how the fuck does your ghetto ass want a co-signer after you stole my sperm in 97 and then stole my life in 99?”  Needless to say, I co-signed.  I thought it was for the kid, but I think she got her nails did.  

  The Science

 It was a virtual video game and everyone wanted to play.  It was one of those soldier games where everyone is a shooter.  I had thought I had seen my brother in a bunker with a gunshot wound to his side.  He was bleeding.  He was drinking with his Clamster buddies, and they had asked if I wanted to play some football that weekend.  Since we were in a video game, I figured sure, why not.  While drinking a Natty Ice and smoking a cigarette, he asked how to defeat all the white men.  I looked at him, and wondered why he was drinking and smoking while bleeding on the rented floor.  I figured he had marital problems, he was in a slump and the locals must have been fucking with him.  I contemplated the question, and from the years of slavery and genocide, I didn’t really see a scenario that they would recede control of the area, America or stop their plans for world domination.  So I told him I don’t know.  It was a confounding question since his wife and his kids and his friends were white.

So his buddies were usually missing some teeth from some Oroville days.  I had known them for some time, so when playing football, I didn’t think much of it.  It did piss me off that they didn’t throw me the ball and kept me on defense.  I still disrupted most of the plays.  They just liked to throw interceptions.  They asked me if I wanted to be a bad guy in one of their movie projects that they were conjuring up.  Since I knew these guys had almost zero talent for movie making, I kindly agreed, if they did all the work.  They proposed some Star Trek and I proposed some Twilight Zone.  They proposed a Batman spin where the bad guys would be sitting at the table.  I figured I was Batman, so I’m not sure that would work out for me, unless I beat their face in at the end of the card game.  I guess my brother played the Joker.  

So I drove away, and then the game turned into Mad Max, Fury Road.  I guess Northern California wanted to keep the water, and Southern California didn’t like the country people and they wanted the water.  Everyone started throwing fire bombs at each other, it got crazy.  So the South paid off some ”official” people with the Damn money, and they shared the water with the weed growers and Mothers Milk.  All the gangs lived happily ever after, including the military and Hollywood, which we all know, are the most important gangs in California.  They eventually brought Donald Trump to rake and threw fake Rambo in military prison for trying to start a rebellion, which was actually a sting to begin with.  It was a complicated video game on story mode.  Most people just like to play on vs. Mode.  

I only rented the game, so I didn’t really play it, everyone I knew loved it and bought it.  I guess the marijuana dispensaries were selling it along with cookies.  I would rather spend my time watching Netflix and watch some Daredevil or Breaking Bad.  Those were some epic shows.  I used to just watch the Documentaries, but ever since I bought a subscription, I like the dramas.  It always begs the question, does art reflect real life, or does real life reflect art.  Sometimes I think to myself, when I notice the panic attack people have in the world around me, how could everyone not notice how much we believe other people to be better than us.  How much we fear other people to be better than us.  How groups of people feel threatened by others greatness, and that they don’t take the time to nurture their own greatness.  In a hysteria to feel loved and be seen in a crowded world, we try and find the flaws of the others around us to lift ourselves up.  Flowers fighting for sunlight.  Animals fighting for food and water.  Instead we are water and lightning.  We are the light.  

It makes me reminisce on the struggle of the waves crashing.  I find the breath I need in the moments between the struggle.  If I panic, I miss those moments while fighting against the ocean.  If I don’t panic, I am able to breath steadily and find the least resistance without drowning.  And if I live to tell the story, what else would a story need but you to tell it.  How many stories have saved your life?  How many stories gave you strength to carry on?  How many stories have let you share in the tragedies and triumphs of another?  Stories that made you laugh and cry, ones that you have learned from and ones that didn’t make sense till years later.  To play the video game in story mode or just in versus?  I personally like to write my own story.  

[enlit12ww]

         Lam Ang was riding his motorcycle through the busy streets of Tokyo wearing a yellow motorcycle suit and Onitsuka shoes.1 2  Countless city lights speed by him beautifully. He had just come out of his mother and is now looking for his father who was gone during his birth. He remembered the memory in black and white.3  He was teaching himself to walk and the moment he mastered it he turned to his mother and said,4 “Momma, I’d like to be called Lam Ang”5 His mother, not facing him, responded “What?.” In his mind his mother was just shocked that moments ago he was newborn and is now a fully grown man.  “Momma, do I have a papa.” “Yeah you do.” “Where might he be?” “He… uh… he went off to fight some Igorots.” “May I go and find him momma?” “What are you talking about? Just go take out the trash.” Lam Ang persisted and after his mother finally agreed, she told him the general direction of where his father might have gone. Then the samurai, Hattori Hanzo, forged him a very special weapon.6 7  “Thank you Hattori, I don’t how I will repay you for this” “Just pay me next week and stop calling me that.” So Lam Ang set off on his motorcycle wearing his yellow suit, shoes, and his new sword.

         He stopped to eat in a small diner called Amenimomakezu.8 He opened the blue door and revealed a small place with clean sushi bar.9 There was no one else but him and an old man behind the bar waiting for him with a smile. He ate the finest fish, oyster, and rice that Japan could offer.10 After he was finished he was dozy and rested on the bar. He closed his eyes and fell into a light sleep. In his dreams a ghost came to him. “My son go quickly and avenge me. They are all feasting around my skull.” Immediately he sprang up looking scared and covered in sweat. The chef in front of him was looking at him like he was crazy. He paid the chef, thanked him, grabbed his sword and rushed out.

         Lam Ang was now speeding through the streets of tokyo. Red lights shooting past him. He reached a tokyo restaurant with two big red doors.11 He ignored the lady assisting him to a table and pushed through the doors where he was greeted by loud Japanese pop music. It was a big square room with people dancing in the middle. There were tables on the sides filled with many happy people all dressed in colorful outfits.12 He saw guards on the sides wearing masks and in black suits.13 The music finished and the dancing people started to disperse. In the middle of the dance floor revealed a skull stuck to a pole on the ground.14 Lam Ang turned red at the sight of this, brought out his sword, and hacked at the arm of a nearby woman. Her severed arm flew up and fell onto the ground. The woman collapsed to the floor screaming with what remained of her arm, shooting out blood. At the sight of this, the customers franticly rushed for the exit. After all the customers had cleared out, it was just Lam Ang, the guards, and the injured woman. “What did my father do Igorots. It is only right that it be paid.” The guards looked around at each other confused. One guard replied “Sir just calm down and put down the sword.” Lam Ang turned red. “Fine I’ll kill all of you, I can’t be satisfied with your number.” One guard whispered to another guard, “Call backup we have a loony here.” and he called for backup.

         More guards arrived wearing masks and black suits. They surrounded Lam Ang in the middle of the room. In his mind there might have been 88 guards circling him, in reality far fewer.15 He held a samurai stance and was scanning the guards around him. One guard slowly approached him. “Sir please put down the sword” Then Lam Ang spun his sword around to keep the guard away. One guard had enough of the foolishness and yelled, “Get him!” and the guards unleashed their weapons on Lam Ang. None of the weapons hit him, to the surprise of the guards. “My turn. Igorots, watch me closely now” then he lunged at the guards.16 He slashed at the guards severing their limbs. A guard attacked him from the back but Lam Ang was able to dodge it and countered by severing the guards head. Blood was shooting out everywhere and in an instant the floors were red. No guard was able to land a hit on him. He continued to swing at the guards until everyone in the room was dead except for him and one other person. That person was the woman who’s arm he cut off earlier.17 “I’ll set you free to be an example” Limping she left him to be surrounded by death. He went to the skull stuck to the pole, caressed it and noticed it was soft, almost like plastic. He ignored this and turned for the exit.  “Now I leave you battleground.” Lam Ang’s yellow attire was now covered in red and proudly he exited the restaurant.  

         Shortly after, the police and ambulances arrived at the restaurant. They questioned the woman with a severed arm, “He had a katana. Was wearing yellow motorcycle suit. Brown skin and he was short. Probably Filipino. He just came in and cut my arm then started yelling nonsense and called us Igo-something. Then he just killed everyone. Oh God, Why did this have to happen to me?” She burst into tears and the cops left her to be attended to by the nurses. The cops entered the restaurant and had a look around. “Hey Jimmy, you know what this looks like? This looks like that old movie, what was that called?” “Kill Bill” “Yeah. This maniac probably watched too much Tarantino.”

1 This is a reference to what The Bride was wearing in Kill Bill

2 The original text took place in the mountains of the Philippines. In my text it takes place in Tokyo because the film I am adapting this as was in Japan.

3 Quentin Tarantino is known to use black and white to show flashbacks

4 This is a homage to The Bride in Kill Bill when after surviving her comatose, she teaches herself how to walk again and is what I used to explain Lam Ang’s sudden ability to walk,

5 This dialogue sequence in the original text already doesn’t make sense but it fits well with the Tarantino theme. Tarantino was known to intentionally film B Movie scenes.

6 In the original text, Lam Ang had the stone of sagang, the stone of tangraban, of lao-laoigan, a wild carabao’s amulet, and a spear. In my version I just replaced it with a special sword.

7 Hattori Hanzo was a famous samurai who, in the film Kill Bill, forged a sword for The Bride.

8 This is a famous sushi bar in Tokyo. I added it in just for authenticity.

9 The writer conveys through the color of the door that Lam Ang is feeling calm.

10 This is a callback to the original text when Lam Ang’s mother was craving different foods after he was conceived.

11 The door is red is how the author expresses that the character is furious.

12 It was halloween.

13 In my text I have replaced the Igorots as guards wearing masks and black suits similar to the guards in Kill Bill. In my text Lam Ang still refers to them as Igorots.

14 Just some halloween design.

15 Reference to the Crazy 88 in Kill Bill and in the original text the number of Igorots surrounding Lam Ang were said to be “remarkable for one cannot keep count of their number.”

16 A staple of Tarantino action scenes is the inclusion of some pop music.

17 In the original text there was one remaining Igorot whom Lam Ang cut of the ears and limbs. This Igorot was then left alive for his tribe to see. Similarly in the film Kill Bill, The Bride left a woman alive to inform Bill that she is alive.