Confessions

I confess to listening to Cartmen sing "Oh, Holy Night" and laughing by bloody head off.

I confess to wanting ban all directors from tinkering with movies after they’re released. Director’s cut is synonymous with bantha poodoo.In particular, I confess that I would kill every man in this room for one night with my beloved "Last of the Mohicans" in a version that wasn't disemboweled by Michael Mann. He removed some of the most powerful moments from the film in order to achieve his true vision of feculent kitty litter.

Well done, Mike.

Bastard….

I further confess to listening to Rachmaninoff primarily because I dig the name.I once named an Orc “RoKmonanov” in ShadowRun (an old RPG for those who don’t know). He kicked a lot of ass before eventually succumbing to wounds acquired while lighting his urine afire and using his wang as a flamethrower after an all-night everclear binge. heh –good times.

I confess that I’ve often had “Old Hippie Christmas” by the Bellamy Brothers playing on loop in my mind. “Decorating everything … before the fat man comes to town… He’s trimmin’ up his favorite tree, and tokin’ what he grew…” “… Jesus must have been a hippie – peace and love toooooo everyyyyyy onnnnnnnee.”

The water calls me.

Every time I see the ocean, every time I see a pond or a river, every time a dark, cool body of water; I feel like it’s calling to me. I just want to go under and not come up again.

But not in some suicidal drown myself way. More in a beautiful, become one with the universe sort of way.

Anyone else ever have that?