Dé Domhnaigh, Nollaig 02, 2007

The Ice Storm



Christina Ricci, 1997 Ang Lee film, based on the Rick Moody novel, Christina Ricci, Christina Ricci,.

I started Saturday by thawing out my van windows and making a quick trip to the grocery store for supplies.

Three cans of Chunky soup, a small supply of marijuana, One large can of Store-brand coffee, the day's New York Times and a copy of "Waiting For Godot"

Fire brings psychological comfort as well as material warmth to the lost camper. Fire scares away large predators and allows man to establish his ddominion whereever he happens to be.




Four 40-oz containers of Mickey's Malt Liquor. Mickey's taste of the bite of winter with a hint of short days and disturbing lucid dreams born of sleeping to long. Mickey's is perfect for the holiday season; goes great with a bowl of soup and a cup of hot tea.

One 12 gage shotgun with perhaps two dozen shells in various states of disrepair, a late-model Kalashnikov with perhaps three gross rounds of ammunition, this should be plenty, you can't allow them to come in, you can barely feed yourself.

But pray tell what good will your guns be if your hands freeze off boy? What do ya think of it boy? You don't think much do ya boy?

Fire.



FIRE FIRE FIRE FIRE FIRE FIRE FIRE

You realize now that fire has been your only hope all along and that you are the hope for everything. Fire keeps the bears and the wolves away yes, but also the dark men, yes, the men who live without the true faith and the true Gods are loath to approach God's fire.

I have nothing to burn, I have everything to burn. These things. These

things.


Have always been there

in defiance

of this ice,

and now

they come to be.

Take your ax and hack your books and your desk and your windows and your house apart immediately. Would you not rip the fat from your own body for FIRE? Where is your body? Where is your true being?

Garrison Keilor, Missouri, vs. Oklahoma, these signals from outside tell me they know nothing of the situation, they either don't know or don't care. We have been left for dead, either for gold or convenience.



So be it. I have no line, I am eternal. I have fire, I am eternal. My enemies come to the warmth of my threshold and than cower and fade for I am eternal.

and the week shall be melted from the body with fire.

I stepped out with my GUN to find a meat dish to feed my soup. A man with Louisiana plates on his old truck asked me where the tity bar was. I directed him to the Night Before Lounge.



Colder than a witch's Tit. That is, as opposed to a nurturing, feminine and motherly tit.



Yes much better yes.

You know those shit burnt color schemes from the early 80's? I'm thinking specifically of the old San Diego Padres uniforms, the color of the mans hat was something like that, all burnt orange and burnt yellow, and I knew the Night Before would do.



For he is a weakling from a weak land and he has no fire and needs a mother and any mother will do.

A man called out from the darkness as I made my way home. As soon as I aknowlged him he said that it had been a misunderstanding and to have a good night bro.

He smelled the smoke of my skin in my clothes and he knew that my fire comes with me and if his children are to live to carry his brown hair into the planting time he will do well to let me pass and now I drink my ale in total security forever.

2 comments:

josh beran said...

This is listed as a "review" of The Ice Storm at something called blixxnet.com

Oh the wonders of google

Anonymous said...

thanks for sharing.