The Moment

A collection of my work, heart, and experiences

Reflections: Part 6

The movie has been very difficult for all of us and I do so fear that my attempts to understand the near is just pushing me away into the far realm of confusion. I am tired from a day and I am scared that it seems that I have no idea what is going on. Am I truly confused? Am I truly taking advantage of everything? Why do I feel this burning urge to just give up everything I have to make everyone happy? Why do I feel this burning urge to just give up? Who am I anymore? I feel busted like glass and the sharp razor shards are not helping me out.

Today we had a get together with my dear loving friend Jeffrey, Hannah, Neal, Phil, Mom, and myself. We stopped the moving of items and instead shared a few drinks. We danced to the beat of whatever song we wanted to hear. It was good and it was refreshing.

When we got home, I felt attacked. Maybe it really is all my fault. What am I doing anymore? Right now I wish I could end my existence. ADD MORE LATER

oldfilmsflicker:

Favorite Montgomery Clift Characters;
Morris Townsend - “The Heiress” (1949)

THIS TOO

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The High Life of Jerome Gasper Part 2

-Three-

Being taken back to his exquisite room, she finds the assistants very interesting. She looks down the sophisticated hallways and royal rooms, ever so waiting to be tempted by the delight associated with Jerome. When welcomed into a room large enough for thirty, but only having two chairs and a small round table for them both, she sees him waiting with an already poured glass of alcohol. She slowly moves forward as Jerome stands tall and says, “Greetings again. How are you”.

She smiles as she walks closer and notices a slightly open door leading to bedroom. She notices a seductive blue nightgown over the bed and when he notices what she is looking at he shyly smiles. “Well Mon’sir, I think you know how good I am now and how good I want to be.

He smiles a nice big grin, looks down at the table, and pushes away a little lid to what appeared to be a metal butter container. Jerome says confidently, “You like?”

Shockingly and confidently, “How did you! Wait. How do you as the new lawyer come across that?”

He walks over until her sexual nature and emotional wants are fused by his pure physical presence. She is ultimately conflicted with herself, however temptation can be rewarding when one deals with the magic of Jerome Gasper.

He sways his back to let her walk towards the dreamy drug that existed there. She bends down, purposefully showing what she offers him, and enjoys the orgasmic effects it has. When she finishes, with only a slight bit of blood, he moves towards her and they casually walk towards his bedroom. “I have wanted you for so long.”

“Tonight you can have every bit of me.”

-Four-

The breakfast meal was served with a ringing of a bell and even though she thought the butter container again had more cocaine, she was not upset that it was just butter. After buttering her toast and taking a bite of eggs, she in the purple nightgown walked around a bit. She looked out the mirror to see the water off in the distance. Dreaming about the birds and trees, she turns her attention towards to left to see him still sleeping there. Caty Dillinger, a woman of sophistication and confusion, admits an additional conflict she bares. She realizes that a man loves for her, but alas she thinks to hastily.

After turning towards the remains of the food served to her, she then begins to wonder why she slept with him in the first place. She asks herself, “Why do I question why that man wants me so badly?”. This question, which causes her to twiddle her fingers perfidiously,  makes her wonder why she thinks of this as a bad thing.

Jerome Gasper has never committed any major crimes. Jerome was raised traditional and always loved his mother more than his father. Abused and tormented by his dad, he felt conflicted with himself. This lasted for a while, until he realized his potential and began to study the books hard. In school, he learned of cocaine and desired to be adored, so he imagined that his friends would like him more for being able to obtain it. Indeed this realization happened, which soon lead to him having men and women all around.

Caty met Jerome when he was realizing this and in a way knew he was growing confidence. Being already with someone, she felt the desire to her feelings towards him. This, however, seemed to vanish quickly, because she constantly had an internal conflict.

Looking at the red couch and soon the grand fireplace, she continued to doubt why she was here and was she really happy. Jerome, sleeping away, was having a dream of a rather different sort.

-Five-

After taking the drug himself while finishing the sexual intimacy they both had, he drifts to sleep. His mind is all over the place envisioning fragment thoughts. One thought opens up revealing the royal meal they had infused with 

You Sir

-From The Sir-

You, Sir, are now in a clean house with no trivial nightly torments from past sexual experiences and abusive conversations. You, Sir, are free to enjoy simplistic comforts of a house filled with the soul of one of the greatest local actors in town. You, Sir, can turn up that Pink Floyd (I prefer classical), catch the smoke (I meant cigarettes), and organize your new hippy headquarters.

You know that little miss who doesn’t know what she is missing? Fuck her. You know that girl that has your number, knows your waist size, isn’t the best lookin’, and knows your music? Fuck her indeed! Fuck everyone dear little bone who gets in your way and always say Sir!

-From Me, The Sir-

To the haters out there I will say fuck you, because I am the the new Sir. Ladies and gentlemen, I bow to you. You, who have made me tactical with my idealism and teaching me the ways of realism, all deserve a clap. Truly. I will smoke the finest weed, dancing to the music I want to hear, not overly prioritize on dating but still take advantage of every… opportunity, and enjoy my life. Hippifying up my room will be in order. Again, I tip my metaphorical tailor made hat to you and thank you all. Ranging from the truest of friends to those who should know better, I will simply say kudos for the enlightenment. Tonight, with or without someone, I am going to drink to you all. Those who have my back and those who are assholes should drink with me. Tell you what. I listened to Time the other day and realized, “Fuck. 20 years have gone behind me.” A moment later I realized, “Fuck. I am going to make the next 20 count.” So yes I am the Sir. I am the Dude. I am the hippy. I am the real McCoy. I am the God Damn whatever the fuck I want to be. What have you got MOTHERFUCKING SIR?

Crossroads

The last thing I will write tonight. Movement is often needed or else the stale air begins to choke one’s self and lack of change happens. I feel stuck between idealism and realism again. As one road shows what I should feel and another shows the contrary, I come out of my mindset at the sound of my mobile. It rings and rings with a number unfamiliar to me, and inevitably it sounds with calmness. The friend he invited over tonight is calling me, and after a few exchanges she says it was awkward talking to me and departs. Never seeing her except briefly at Enloe and M2M3, I send her a friends request and she ends up talking to me. Soon i find myself talking to her and find that with each drunken and stoned word I am inevitably inviting her over. I awake him who originally invited her around 3:30, pick her up, making out with her, finding the vast drunken joy of this, and reawakening while sobering up to find that what I wanted is truly worse that what I imagined. I can not see straight and I think I am more confused than ever. I implore you why am I not satisfied? Is what I saw the deepest pit that I can only settle at? Am I stuck not on the crossroads, but actually underneath the pavement gasping for air? Why is what I ask? Inevitably, I have found the ultimate paradox within my mind. To long for and to fuck for yet not when the chance arises and it so does clearly remind me of the abyss that I have fallen to. Maybe you were right and maybe life is saying I deserve this. I deserve fucked up people and sorry to say, but the ugliest physical manifestations of individuals imaginable. No CED, this is not you. It is what happened after we talk if you do indeed read this. If not, then all I can say is wish for me the best as I will for you. Brain rot and disgust shrouded by the imaginary calming effects of 5 Coka Cola’s infused with a good chunk of Bacardi Torched Cherry Rum. Glass nearly empty, each digestible liquid formation intoxicated me and made me feel helpless, seductive, desperate, and soon I suppose in a fucking relationship with someone I truly met in one motherfucking day. What am I to do? I fucking what sex, but will I destroy my soul for this. I fucking what Asa here! God damn! Oh God! The trials and tribulations of my simplified existence has transited to a realm that all I see is agony unless I can rationalize this. 5/26-5/27.

You should rather feel that don’t. You! Over there at the computer. Yeah you Erik. When you read any of this stuff in the future and it makes more sense, just remember how you felt, how you feel now, and know that it is better to have loved like you did than to feel the stale air of nothing.

DON’T FUCKING FORGET THIS. 5/27/2012

(Source: oldfilmsflicker)

Marilyn Monroe as Roslyn in The Misfits - 1961

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oldfilmsflicker:

Happy Birthday Peter Wilton Cushing, OBE (26 May 1913 – 11 August 1994) 

RIP to the one my grand father wanted to be and whenever I see Peter Cushing I can truly say that my grand father is enjoying his company wherever they may be. Live on classics… live on.

oldfilmsflicker:

Happy Birthday Peter Wilton Cushing, OBE (26 May 1913 – 11 August 1994) 

RIP to the one my grand father wanted to be and whenever I see Peter Cushing I can truly say that my grand father is enjoying his company wherever they may be. Live on classics… live on.

(Source: accioxjared, via oldfilmsflicker)

(via bolina)

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