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…

 

The Memorial Day Incident (Vulgar)

“Just a little bit further Jason I want to find a good spot for your first parade. We should have gotten here earlier,” the women increases the hold on her son’s hand as they pass through the crowd. The child looks scared and continues to mumble louder and louder after each person he brushes past. “What are you saying Jason?” The mother stops in the crowd to hear her son. “I raped that little girl and it burns in my mind. I wonder if she still remembers like I do, but she was so drunk she probably doesn’t,” Jason says. A look of horror comes across the mother’s face, “What are you talking about Jason?” “I don’t like the crowd mom can we go back to the car?” he asks. Ignoring his question she asks, “What were you saying before Jason?” “I didn’t say anything before mommy,” he says confused. The woman crouches down to be face to face with her son, “Yes you did and you should never repeat whatever it is you just said. You are much too young for that kind of language or to even know those words.” She looks both frightened and confused. “What words? What did I say? Are you mad at me?” Jason asks in rapid succession. The woman stands up and takes her child into her arms, “Never mind, I’m not mad at you sweetie.” “Can we go back to the car?” He asks once again. “I feel safer in the car,” he says to the asphalt. The woman puts him back on the ground and scan the area around them packed with people. “Yes, we can go back to the car,” she says disappointed. “We just have to go back through the crowd. Can you do that?” The little boy nods his head yes and she takes his hand into her. They start to make their way through the crowd and almost immediately he begins to start rambling again as he slips past people in the crowd. This time however it is a different woman who hears what he has to say. “What did he just say?” The stranger asks his mother. “Sorry?” she asks the stranger who grabs her. “What did your son just say to me?” Confused Jason’s mother tells the woman, “Nothing he is, he doesn’t know what he is saying. The crowd is making him very nervous and scared.” “That’s no excuses for lying about my father like that,” the stranger says in anger. “What?” Jason’s mother asks. “Your little bastard of a kid just said to me that my dad liked to touch me in my sleep and that I liked it. I ought a beat your little skinny ass because my dad’s a saint. Where do you get the nerve to teach your little mistake things like that and then convince him to tell complete strangers such rude things to their face?” The crowd around them grows quite to hear what they are saying. “Why is she yelling mommy?” Jason shouts. “Because she is confused,” his mother says nervously and very afraid. She tries once again to walk off. “Fuck that I’m not confused your son is just a little freak,” the stranger yells at her. “Like I said he is scared and nervous because of the crowd. He doesn’t know what he is saying and you are just making it worse for him,” she shouts over her shoulder. “I’m making it worse?” The stranger shouts after she chases after them. “I’ll show him what worse really is. Maybe it is something you should have shown him once or twice,” the stranger reaches out for Jason’s arm. “Excuses me is there a problem here?” A uniformed police officer asks as he grabs the stranger out reached hand. Jason’s mother turns to see who asks the question. Relief washes over her as she see the officer standing there. “Yes there is her fucking bastard child is making up stuff about my father and me,” the stranger says red-faced. “Ma’am the language is not appropriate. Let’s let cooler head prevail and leave these nice people alone. He is only a child he probably doesn’t even know what he said.”

The cop kneels down to be at Jason’s level. He places his hand on the child’s shoulder, “Why don’t you just say that you are sorry, and you and your lovely mother can go enjoy the rest of the parade?” Jason locks eyes with the police officer, “I shot him because he was black. I knew he didn’t have a weapon, but I shot him anyways. What’s the world with one less nigger? A better place.” The cop turns a lighter shade of pale. Transfixed on the boy’s eyes he is at a loss for words. “Oh my god Jason I can’t believe you just said that. I never taught him to say that,” his mother scans the eyes of the crowd that has gathered. A look of horror and intrigue has come over the crowd. Ashamed Jason’s mother picks him up, “That’s enough.” The cop remains kneeling staring at the spot that once contained Jason’s face. “I’m so sorry,” the mother tries to explain to the officer. “That never happened. He had a gun so I shot him,” he says to himself. The crowd grows even more somber as the officer stands up. “Told you that kid was a freak. Arrest them or something,” the stranger says. “Shut up,” the officer says to the woman. The crowd murmurs while staring at the cop. “So what if he was black?” the officer shouts with all eyes on him. “A criminal is a criminal and I did what I had to do to protect myself,” he says while scanning the crowd for any form of sympathy. “Mom I want to go home. I’m scared,” Jason puts his head in the crook of his mother’s neck. He buries his head as deep as he can as she begins to speak, “I’m going to take my son home if that is okay with you officer. He didn’t mean what he said and this has all been a very strange day.” The cop mortified doesn’t look up at her or to anyone as he speaks, “That is probably for the best.” Tears hit the pavement as they begin to walk away. The crowd stands in disbelief at what they have seen.

The mother turns to walk through the crowd once again. The crowd parts making sure to not touch them as they walk through. “That’s it?” The stranger shouts before throwing her arms down and stomping away. As his mother tries to go around a rather large man near the back of the silent crowd Jason’s foot lightly touches the man’s arm. “I buried them under my house. The smell is starting to get to the neighbors, but I’m starting to like it,” Jason says. The man has a face of shock as the crowds eyes divert to him. Jason’s mother stops dead in her tracks as someone from the crowd shouts. “Get that man.” The large man tries to get away but everyone around him refuses to move. “Move out of my way. I’ve done nothing wrong here,” the man says as he pushes against the crowd. “Just because a child says something that makes it true?” The man asks the crowd. Jason’s mother sets her son back on the ground, “What did you do?” “I didn’t do anything,” the man says nervously. “This is Officer Johnson, I need back up on the intersection of Fifth and Jackson,” the officer says into his radio. “Back up?” The man questions out loud. “There’s no need for back up. I didn’t do anything. I don’t even have neighbors,” the man becomes even more desperate as he pushes against the crowd. The officer pulls his gun from the holster, “Please put your hands behind you head.” The man stops pushing against the crowd, “Hey, watch it there trigger finger. I swear I didn’t do anything.” “Then you won’t mind getting down on the ground and putting your hands behind your head? I won’t ask again,” the officer shouts. “Okay so some crazy psycho fucking kid says something and we’re all going to believe him?” The man shouts. “This is insane. If I even did what he alleges that I did than that means you shot an innocent man? You do realize that don’t you?” The officer doesn’t put down his weapon. The crowd is still silent as the people around the man slowly back away. Unaware of what is happening behind her Jason’s mother says, “My son is not crazy. I don’t know what is wrong with him, but he is not crazy.” The man grabs her by the throat and begins to choke her. “Your son is crazy,” the man grips tighter. “Fucking say it,” he screams in her face. The officer fires two rounds just as the man pulls her closer to himself. Both shots hit her dead center in the back. The man releases his grip on the woman’s throat as she falls to her knees. Jason’s mother coughs up blood as the officer also goes down to his knees.

The crowd begins to cry and scream as they disperse in all directions. Through the madness and the chaos someone screams, “Nice job officer dip shit. I guess we will just have to add another to your list.” Jason stands there frozen in shock and fear covered in his mother’s blood. The large stranger grabs Jason by the shoulders raising him high in the air as he begins to shake him. “Why did you do this you little shit?” He screams at the child. Bits of spit follow with every word. Jason begins to cry as he screams, “I sliced her open like a deer as I fucked her until I came. Over and over I am king.” “Shut the fuck up,” the man says as he shakes him harder. “Put the kid down,” the officer tries to say but the words only fall to the ground. “Another I fucked her in her tight little ass while she bleed out on my garage floor,” Jason begins to laugh but it is not the laugh of a child. “Shut up,” the man says as he wraps his powerful hands around Jason’s throat. The man squeezes as hard as he can. Jason fights to say something else, “I prefer to asphyxiate the special ones. There is something about watching the life in their eyes slowly die out as I fill them with the beginnings of another.” Too weak to move Jason dangles there as the man chokes him, “I said shut up you little bastard.” “Put him down or I will shot,” the officer tries again.  The officer rises to his feet, “What’s another dead piece of shit?” The cop fires all of the remaining bullets, but one into the man’s body. He takes the burning hot barrel and places it into his mouth blowing out the back of his head. Back up finally arrives on the scene only to see the bodies resting on the ground and a boy standing in the middle of it all.

“True fucking story,” I tell the people across from me. A few of them are my friends and a few of them aren’t. “They even have a name for what happened even though most people back home like to pretend it never took place,” I say. “What’s it called I’ll Google it right now?” A naive girl asks from across the fire. “You won’t get 4G out here. We are in the middle of nowhere,” another girl proclaims. “Okay whatever I’ll put it in my phone and look it up later what was it called?” She takes out her phone. “What a fucking nerd,” a friend of my shouts out. Ignoring them all and in the most dramatic voice I can, “Its called the Memorial Day Incident.” A round of laughter begins around the fire. “What kind of fucking name for something is that?” Someone asks. “That story is such bull shit,” another says. “No it really happened,” a friend of mine says. “Okay then what happened to Jason?” I start to say something before being cut off. “I want him to tell me,” she demands. “What happened to Jason? That’s what you wanted to know?” My friend asks. The girl nods her head, “Yeah what happened to Jason?” “Jason died that’s what happened to him. The large man shook him so hard that his neck snapped,” my friend explains as he looks over at me. “I thought,” she begins to say. “Who else has an actual scary story to tell?”

Waiting For Something To Say

Their hollowed out eyes surround me. Lions and bastards surrounding their kill. The world has long died, buried dead within these sad eyes. The year was 2015, yesterday and you are all as fucked as me. Cunts the size of the Grand Canyon couldn’t satisfy the overwhelming need to be fucked by those around you. The world is splitting in two only one side has very little to stand on and the other more than enough to do what we all feel like we must, live.

Today marks the day that we stand before the fallen Christ of our lost generations. Pick an idol, a martyr, and march the fuck on because we are long behind. Long overdue for another cause no one gives a fuck about. Something that matters now and won’t matter to the next generation. We take so much shit for granted as if this is how it has always been when it hasn’t. Our reality is built-in virtual thoughts and ideas. Our perspective produced by man-made devices used to distract us from the very thing that holds us down from generation to generation.

We give them more money while ignoring the fact that they are taking more and more of our freedoms. At least we are free to be who we want online. At least we still have that. As long as we all feel good about that then I guess it doesn’t matter. Lies fed to us from everywhere. Becoming harder and harder to know who is right and who is wrong. Up vote if you even know what I am saying. Lies spilled out over time, ideas expressed through emotions. Does anybody remember when? Any of this ever made sense?

See the world from our screens the all new glass windows of the world. What reason do we have to live if we’ve seen it all? What reason do we have to not succumb to all of this is there are no reasons at all? Life is to easy to ever understand what it really means to live anymore. We are not the future anymore. We are very much the present and soon to be past. Nothing can stop the juggernaut that we have created, but in reality who said we ever wanted it to stop?

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…

 

“Call You Up In The Middle Of The Night”

When you transfer you just take on other people’s problems. More bullshit you don’t want, but have to smile and take it. Nothing like selling yourself to the highest bidder only to take on more debt you don’t need. This place, these types of places are the end of the American dream and the beginning of the new slave auction houses. A spectrum much greater than we thought even existed. Ride the lightning like it is going somewhere but it’s not. Too much smoke in the eyes and up our asses.

We live in a clouded haze of long lost broken ideals. Where does the lie end and the truth long lost on the damned begin? The minority of the majority. Stop to listen and get ran over for reflecting for a second. We like to stand on the backs of others and then wonder why they get so upset for shitting all over them. Such a strange scenario. Maybe the air is too thin at the top to think straight. If you treat those at the bottom right they in turn will treat you in the same manner. Religion understood this even if they choose to blindly ignore the principle today.

As time goes on the madness sinks in. Deep within our minds and our bodies. Right down to the bones. We think we are owed something because we are. Basic rights are not hard to grant, but seems so much easier to take. Respect is hard to come by when you are at the bottom. Better than me? Sure, but what happens when the money is all gone? I’ll have a shovel waiting for you. The shit goes in the corner and its best you do as you’re told. Welcome to your new home. The sky has a limit and the ground keeps sinking under the weight of all this shit. How is it to feel like me? Love for you to tell me.

Hitchin’ a Ride

Someone came up with the idea a long time ago. The way things were supposed to be. The powers that be crucified him, and anyone who challenged their ideals. They say don’t believe in false idols, but what else is there to believe in, in a world without hope?

Layne Ambrose is an idea much bigger than myself. So massive it lives within another realm. A world that doesn’t forgive or five much hope. A world similar to this one where the hopes and prayers of the weak fall on deaf ears. Money runs this world, but what if it didn’t? What if instead of being based on lies the world was really based on truth? What if the world was merely ran by assholes?

We kneel before the one that rules over this world. We used to call it praying for those of you who are old enough to remember such things. Gave it up for the idea of power, the idea of freedom. A broken dream to believe in such lies. Rise to the ones that hold us down. A nihilistic cause has always seemed a waste of time. A go nowhere idea, but honestly where are we now? A time not so long ago the sun was the true god. Now it powers cars, homes, computers, and so much more. Have we lost touch with something we have forgotten? Something we gave up long ago.

The world is changing every day yet somehow it is getting worse. The problems don’t ever go away. Maybe the only real problem is inside each and every one of us? Has nothing to do with the things around us. So in conclusion go fuck yourself.

Too soon for a thought like that. What I mean to say is insert a large rod like item straight into your ass, repeat vigorously. If you thought that hurt you haven’t been on this planet very long. The pain will subside in time, but really it won’t. Over time you will only grow to ignore the pain. Then it will become normal, expected, and a lot less invasive when the world holds you down and takes what they believe to be theirs. Thank me later.

The Whore of Second Street (Vulgar)

The whore of Second Street was good when you needed her and bad when you didn’t. The whore of Second Street didn’t cost too much, but somehow it always seemed like you’d spend all your money on her. She didn’t do much, lay there and take it I guess. She also didn’t say much whenever you came to visit, but then again what is there really to say? The whore of Second Street became everything though she was nothing. The whore is but a whore the wise men outside the door would say. That is what she is and nothing more. The whore of Second Street lived just up the block from a bar called the Bullfrog. Her customers would stumble as they walked down the block. You could follow the trails of piss straight to her door if you didn’t already know where to go. The whore of Second Street didn’t ask much, just take your shoes off please and leave them by the door. Just because she is a whore doesn’t mean she don’t have class. All the men would stand in the hall with their money in hand for their turn with the whore of Second Street. Hours and days it didn’t matter she was always open in more ways than one. The whore of Second Street has no cloths she sees no point in spending money on things with such little use. The whore of Second Street was smarter than we all knew. She lived in an apartment without a view. Go to the top of the stairs and wait your turn. Directions we all followed. Directions we all knew. The whore of Second Street may not have been elegant, but she knew how to use you. Anything you want can be bought for a price and everything was in demand. It wasn’t long before the whore of Second Street raised a small fortune made of stacks of one’s, five’s, ten’s, or whatever her clients could get their hand on. The whore of Second Street let us use her body and it was all part of her plan. The whore of Second Street just somehow knew it was time, and one day she was gone. Her customers all wait her return. The whore of Second Street is worshiped as if she was a god. They pay her rent even though the apartment is never used except for mass. The whore of Second Street was all there was and now she is gone. The whore is but a whore the dumb men say as they pass each other in the hall. That is what she is and everything more.