Chili Cinema And What We Are Doing

Land Of The Dead

Chewed on this for a bit too long, but this Saturday… Tomorrow… Little Fears, Weird Shit with Alex, I… Will be watching George A Romero’s Land of the Dead…  Thought you’d all like to know that…Oh and we will be live tweeting as we do it.. 

Starting at 9pm London (4pm U.S.) time… So check us out on Twitter… and or join us as we talk about our hopes and feelings…. The dreams that came and went…. Maybe a thing or two about blood and zombies… Honestly I’m not sure… Half the time I don’t even know what I am doing any more in this lost landscape of time… Okay I am being told to wrap it up… Now is not the time to get existential.. But tomorrow?.. Who knows…

We will be using a Service called Chili Cinema… You can rent or buy all kinds of movies… Check it out here… https://uk.chili.com/

Twitter Handles
Follow Weird Shit with Alex @SynBoomstick
Follow Little Fears @TheLittleFears 

Blog Handles? (What is this Hackers?)
Check out Little Fears: https://littlefears.co.uk/
Check Out Weird Shit With Alex: https://weirdshitwithalex.blog/

I thought about making every other word Bold just to fuck with you… So you are welcome… Also Girls Trip was available?? and we went with zombies?? Next time I’m picking the movie…

 

Broken Up Thoughts

I haven’t had an original idea for a while. Which sucks. My mind is like mush going over the same old stuff. Every story has a beginning, a middle, and an end. They say I had a voice. They say I had one once. Now it has disappeared again into the abyss of fuck. Fuck it all. What does it matter? Tired of asking questions with no answers. I could be anything yet I sit as nothing. I want to burn the world down. Destroy every last drop of existences. Yet I’d still feel nothing. I have no contempt for myself or others. I say I have nothing and I mean it. Words are haunting whether truth or lies. I despise everyone in my life. I hate them all because they are selfish. I hate them all because they are me without trying. In other news I sold more books than I ever have. So that’s something.

 

It often seems as though dreams are nothing more than a way to get us through life. We all have dreams. What we want to become or get done with our lives. But I don’t know anyone who has actually seen them through. Goals change over time. One day we want one thing and the next something different. Dreams are where past, present, and future collide because they very often want the same things. It’s as though we are at war with ourselves as well as those around us. They say that to succeed you need to surround ourselves with people who can help you. What about those people like me that can’t stand others? Are we set to fail then? Are my goals and dreams nothing more than a waste of time? I often wonder if I should just be happy with what I have. A niche market of being an asshole. Of course you hear those fantastic stories of people who have made it and you set yourself up to fail once again. I’m tired of failing. There is nothing there anymore but sadness and pain.

 

Devils in the details
But what do you do when you’ve all failed?
Listening to your complaints
On a day-to-day basis
Has become insane
Feeling your thoughts is all that I have
But now it’s filled with too much pain
Sensory overload
My mind will explode
The devils in the details
But God failed so long ago

 

Wasting time until I can get by
Wasting away as if all is the same
I hate myself but I hate you more
Every passing moment is like an eternity
But it is as though time slips away from me
I could do more but it seems I do less
Was once told that I am depressed
Maybe I’m stretched too thin
If I could focus then I could understand
Wasting time until it is too late
Wasting away as if all is the same

 

I watch the sky
Even in the dark
Even on the darkest night
Watch it bleed
The truth is so hard to find
Deeply hidden behind
Each and every lie
Some where in the darkness
Just beyond the light
Lies something so true
No one can separate the lies

 

What’s left to say after all of that? Suffering alone with depression can be hard.. I don’t have it as bad as a lot of people I know… But I do have the anxiety and the highs and lows… Maybe that is where my writing comes from? Or maybe I’m just fucked in the head…. Who knows… It is fun to joke around about, but really that is a symptom of something I’m sure… No one can tell you how to live your life, but that doesn’t mean no one isn’t there to help you…. Sometimes it is family and friends, and sometimes it is someone else.. I don’t follow organized religion, go figure, but what they all have in common is being there for each other… I think that is important whether there is someone watching over us or not…

 

A Lie (Novel) Preview

Beautiful Liar

I use to be like you, naïve and care free
I use to wish for a dream come true and all that shit
but I am more real than I once thought I truly was
Nightmares and dreamscapes only come true in your sleep
Awake all there is, is tragedy and wishful thinking
The streets are filled with the slowly dying
and the buildings and offices are filled with the damned
My eyes were once closed, but now they are always open
I drain the blood from the streets and sweep up the dead
The only job I have left
The only job I was condemned

 

Turn Out the Light

I begin my day by waking up like most of humanity, but in a hint of irony I don’t think that I ever truly wake up. My first thoughts are to find some drugs, but I failed to get more last night or save any for this morning. So now I am beyond hopeless. I light up a cigarette and take a couple of drags before stumbling my way to the bathroom to piss. There is a huge bruise on my left inner thigh and I can’t recall how in the world I got it, but now that I know I have it my leg begins to hurt. I move to the kitchen and open the frig door more out of habit than anything else considering I already know that there isn’t anything inside it anyways. More thoughts creep in my head and this is why I should have saved at least one more hit. My second real thought of the day is that I have to work later. I already know hours in advance that I will be thirty minutes late, but I also know that they won’t say anything. In some sick sad way they feel sorry for me or they act like they know something I don’t. Either way this pisses me off beyond belief. I don’t say anything because I need the money now more than ever. I close the frig door and start to get ready for work. It’s not a long process so, I’m out the door before I even realize it. I send her a text that I know she will never respond to. I send her a text that says, “I love you and I miss you”, but it was a waste of twenty seconds. I start my car up and pull out of the parking space. I stop by the dealer’s house before heading to work. I barely had enough money to get what I will need for the next few days of my miserable life. I need to conserve as much as I can before I get paid again or things just might get worse. I laugh at the thought but it is more real than I can even comprehend right now. The drug dealer sends his best and this pisses me off. I could barely stop from doing a hit right on his front porch but I make it to the car. I head to work and today is already a waste.

Sixteen and fucking stupid. Sixteen year old girls pretend to be so stupid and dizzy about the dumbest things. As if a five-year old doesn’t understand how much something costs. How hard does one person have to be dropped on their head to not understand the concept of money in America? Yet this woman standing in front of me isn’t sixteen, though she acts like it, hell I don’t think she is even in her twenties anymore and if she is she looks fucking rough. Her and her rather large but not for this area boyfriend, who decided today wasn’t a good day to wear sleeves, stand in front of my register. There is a horrible smell coming from somewhere, but I’m not sure where. They have decided to purchase some beer, her pleasure condoms, and this week’s special two regular sized candy bars at the value price of a dollar. The slightly overweight woman who really doesn’t need one more candy bar asks me, “If the tag says two for a dollar does that mean I have to get two candy bars to get the sale price?” My mind flashes to the many possible answers I want to say to her stupid question like do you really need two or are you fucking retarded? Because if you are retarded that is fine, but if you’re just pretending, that’s fucking sad. I calmly tell the woman you can still get the sale price if you purchase just one as I hide my twitching hand from her view. And just so there is no confusion I tell her that they are fifty cents apiece. She gives me a look that makes me wonder maybe this isn’t an act. She really is slow in the head. She decides the best way to go is to get two. “They’re only a dollar,” she says with a giggle. Her next words will haunt me for as long as I live. “You got this don’t you Big Daddy?” I want to vomit all over her, and for the first time tonight it isn’t from the drugs. The man, known only as “Big Daddy,” steps up to the counter and reveals just exactly where the horrible smell in the air has been coming from. He is wearing a sleeve less shirt that says, “Taken Care of Businesses,” on it. His sleeve less arms are quite hairy and sweaty despite the fact that it can’t be more than forty degrees outside. His hairy arms release an odor so wretched that the smell is burning my raw nostrils. I have resorted to breathing through my mouth, as little as I possibly can. The sooner they leave the sooner I can breathe. I can feel my face getting redder as my blood starts to accumulate in my face making it feel even hotter in the room than it already is. I feel as though I am trapped under water. The couple begins to speak. I think they are telling a joke, but all I can hear is my heart beat pounding in my head not the words coming out of their mouths. I don’t understand why they keep talking when I’m not saying anything back. I don’t understand what is going on. They are laughing and smiling, and the smell is somehow getting worse. It hurts, but I pretend to laugh anyways with them. I must pretend to be normal and that everything is okay. I must appear normal I chant to myself as my hand is still twitching and my leg has joined in. My mantra of normal is really starting to fuck me up. What is normal at a time like this? I hand the change to “Big Daddy” and the woman steps even closer to the counter, close to my face, closer than anyone should ever be, and she looks me right in the eyes. She says, “The secret is to have lots of sex.” I swallow the vomit that has found its way into my mouth and force a smile. I have no idea why she is telling me this, but I am grateful that they at least bought condoms. Now if they understand how to use them is a whole other question. My guess is that reading is difficult at their level of intelligence so probably not. It is another sad day on planet earth.

 

Last preview of the month and it is a long one… Like most things in my life this is nothing but fiction… Except Big Daddy is real.. He walks among us… Don’t fear the reaper… Fear the stench… Until tomorrow… Best of luck….

Broken Up Thoughts

Her eyes twitch in the moon light. The reflective light from the sun dances across her retinas signifying the end of a once miserable life. The imprint of my rough hands forever left stained around her neck. She said she would always be mine and now despite everything that has happened before tonight the lie has become true. I will always remember our last seconds together as the life escaped from her. The bits of saliva that oozed from her dying lips to my hands. It is still warm as I wipe what’s left across my chest. Her hearts stopped pounding a second ago yet her fingers feel icy cold. The blue in her face makes her seem angel like. She looks as I will always have to picture her, isolating and unperceptive of her actions. She didn’t suffer enough. She didn’t struggle enough. I wanted her to feel pain. I wanted her to feel like I do. Instead she gave in to the truth, the fact that this was the end. She got the best of me once again.

 

I’m obsessed with hearts lately. Maybe because mine is so destroyed and shattered. I feel the loneliness wash over me, but I don’t understand what’s really going on. I mean I am alive after all, so what does it mean if I want to die? To disappear far away from here? Everyday is like the last four hundred, but I am sure I’m okay even if I believe that I am not. Life moves and goes at a constant speed. Everything is just a phase and I’m sure this one will pass. Same as the ones before. Nothing last forever.

 

“When you give up on your dreams it is like the rest of you has died away. You no longer what becomes because you already know what will never be. It’s a sad existence from that point on. A pointless position in a line of every disappointing disappointment.”
“You done feeling sorry for yourself or should I go get a gun?”
“Totally not funny Gwen. Plus it takes a couple of days to get a permit.”
“I’ve got one on file just encase of situations like this.”
“You’re such an asshole.”

 

It is hotter than a crotch in this fucking place. I’m still very behind on putting together my office. Writing and working on this site, twitter, and two books at the same time will do that to some people. I’d love to just put all that aside and get this office finished, but no work, no need for this office. So I sit sweating it out in the hot, hot heat. Oh and it’s fucking fall… My ass… Drinking never helps this… What all the greats did it.. (Insert a great writer of your choice.) Peer pressure from the dead… 

Time to sell that soul.. So I want to put the word out on other people’s books as well, but I feel it is way to forward to just do it… So if you are cool with it let me know and I will add your book or project… Well here is more of my shit…

 

Special Broken Up Thoughts (Vulgar)

This is a special Broken Up Thoughts this week. Posting two days earlier because I have an even more special post for Wednesday. Not going to give away what it is, but it is pretty cool and very something different. I hope you check it out.  Ambrose  11/6/17

 

The thunderous stomping of God’s feet surrounds me
Consumes my, my mortal soul
Broken down by treacherous, Broken down by the sin
Her cries ring out across the walls of the tomb
Condemn for believing any of this could be true
Listen for the sound, the sounds of thunder
Breaking away icebergs on the plains
Shifting from one place to the next
Unmovable force from inside my head

 

Working out the reasons that none of this makes sense
Looking for a reason that I feel like shit
Consumed by all your selfish needs

 

“Vulgarity is nothing more than the mind telling the truth.”

 

Wiping your ass with the pages of the bible
Isn’t okay even for an atheist
A broken soul who has lost control
Judas may have had a point but still turned out wrong
Miss information can breed dirty rats
Cunts filled with sickness and death
Vulgar, I’m blatantly aware of my condemnation

 

“Windows 8 ran into some problems. It realized it was Windows 8. Would you like to send a report, so we can make Windows better?”

“Don’t see how this could help any. It seems the “better” you get the worst you get.”

 

Bit of religious randomness with a shitty Windows joke. Why not? I’m scratching my brain to think of something to say…. Have you picked up your copy of A Lie yet? It’s waiting with your name on it… In the mean time take care and good luck…. 

 

The Death Bringer

I drag her body to the back forty of our property. It has rained hard for the last three days. Tonight though, the sky is clear as I drag her body. Her attempts at screaming fill the autumn air, and warn the neighbors that something is wrong. I brought a shovel and a pickaxe with us tonight. They will do most of the work tonight, but only with my help. I drop her leg and toss the shovel to my left make sure she can’t reach it. I take the pickaxe into both of my hand and raise it high above my head. She lets out a whimper afraid I will use it on her. Not yet sweetie. I bring the pickaxe down with everything I’ve got over and over, loosening the ground even more in to a sunken hole. That I will dig out soon with the shovel. She’s still breathing, but she is in no condition to get up and start running. Broken bones will do that. The ground makes a strange noise as I pull the pickaxe out of it. She begins to moan with every hammering thud of the pickaxe. I only imagine what it is she is thinking.

It should come as no surprise that I’m digging her grave tonight. She tries to roll over, but it’s hard with broken ribs. She grips the grass digging her nails into the dirt as she tries to pull away from her new home in the ground. Her attempts are useless she’s only hurting herself on her own now. She uses all her strength to scream again. With each one of her screams I can hear her pain and I like it. I take the shovel now and dig out the loosened ground piling it next to her. I throw chunks of earth on her face to give her a taste of her new home and to give her whining a rest even if it is only for a moment. She tries to spit the mud out of her mouth. She can’t get it all. The outline of the hole isn’t rather large, but I don’t need it to be I can fit her body anyway I need. After what seems like a life time of building up her final resting place it is big enough to fit her broken body. I pick her up and she tries to bite my neck and scratch my shirtless back. The mud on her nails doesn’t allow her the pleasure of hurting me. She slams on to her back as I throw her into her grave. “What do you know a perfect fit,” I spit into her face. She cries out, but it only hurts to cry at this point. She musters up the strength to say, “You’ll never get away with this you piece of shit.” I slam the pickaxe down one last time silencing her one last attempt to piss me off. “I know, but that’s all right,” I tell her dying body.

I leave the pickaxe sitting in her forehead and pick up the shovel. The removed earth splashes against her dead face. Falling into her open mouth and covering her opened eyes. It would look beautiful, but my mind is in another place. “Your world is dead to me. Your laws mean nothing,” I scream at her dead body as I fill her grave. The cops will arrive in the morning thanks to the concerned neighbors, but it’s too late and it doesn’t matter. No one will be a hero for taking me in. Someone will try to become one though. They will write a shitty book about their heroic actions at the scene, made up lies told in attempt to make a dollar off my actions tonight. They will give me some catchy name like Pickaxe Murderer or the Death Bringer or something fake and stupid. All the while I rotten in some jail cell waiting to die, but I’m already dead inside.

They will try to retire off my name and become a legend, but what they don’t realize is that they will only make my legend grow in the mindless sheep of the world. I finish burying her body and smooth over the dirt on top. The handle of the pickax is still sticking out of the dirt pointing to the house. I figure this is a good enough grave maker if any. Wonder how long it will take to “find” me I think as I walk back to the house. I open the side door and walk to the recliner next to the sofa. I pull the lever to release the leg rest and lean back. It’s going to be a long day, so I better rest up.

I don’t like to comment on stories and there is no reason for that, but… This one is actually part of a series of stories… The story actually doesn’t follow one character, but several in an attempt to explore the evolution of murder…. I think that this story and each part can hold up on its own, but if you’d like to read the others they are available in my book Drinking Bleach….

Scrapping Together A Scrap Book Of Broken Thoughts

The surface is rippled by the stones
we throw at each other
They watch us from their glass homes
watching every movement with cheer
we are nothing more than jesters, a joke
the keys to the kingdom lie far from our hands
as they dangle just over head
we want a revolution, we want change
well good luck, you make a difference
if you just give up.

The people held at different standards
the masses are laughing as we destroy each other
Money moves the world into a tail spin of lost control
They will ride our backs until they can walk again
until they can stand up again and tell us
how proud we should be to be from America

Blood drains from the soul
body goes numb and the brain goes cold
separation between church and state
separation between body and soul
the world is ending and you were all told

At Least I’m dying
So I don’t have to listen
to you

I want to cut my throat
Bathe in my blood
Just to feel how it would be
To be me for once

Drag me through dirt
I drag my cross to my grave
Everywhere I go people throw stones
I am what I can be

I can feel myself as I bleed
I bleed for you and I bleed for me
The weeping angles can’t stop repeating
“God why are you doing this to me?”
It all started, the bleeding that is
When I asked the simple question
“Do you still really believe?”
Lies are truths and truths are lies
What if I told you that nothing was real
That real is only a state of mind

Honesty is the most sincere form of flattery
Honesty is why you’re an asshole

The Devil is an asshole but so are you
The witches were burned because they
Were feared, holy called unholy mistakes
That we teach, no one can tell you how
To live, no one can tell you what to do
But somehow they do

God choose this so you can suffer
A test unlike any other

Lies, lies we tell ourselves to get by
Everyone is standing in their windows
Hoping to get noticed, but every one is too busy
Ignoring the people in their shitty lives
A generation raised on hiding, despising
Falsified documents made to look like lives
Everyone’s opinion locked away in a data base
What did you do today?
Nothing, the same as always
Who wants to hear the truth, the infliction
What do you mean, the words get twisted
Infections, choose properly or be torn down
Shit upon, drugged around and forgotten
This is the world in which we live our lives
Video graphed disturbances bombarding our every move
Don’t worry someone is always watching
Smile and go about your life

A little bit of everything in this one… Yes… My brain doesn’t stop… Even when I ask it too.. Anxiety much?….