The Simple Life...

time on my hands ........tempête time.........

An Open Letter to J.J. Abrams.

 29^th December 2015

   Dear Mr. Abrams,

   I was a year old in '77 when I first saw Star Wars, Episode IV: A New Hope and I don’t remember. However, I do believe that Mr. William’s score has been burned into my brain ever since that day. I do remember though, being old enough to begin to understand the concepts of space and magic and the first time I actually watched with wide eyes: A New Hope. After that evening, I lay there, thinking and not even blinking, on my Aunties Hide-A-Bed. The next day I came home wielding my imaginary Light-Saber and cut every piece of furniture and appliance in half, imitating that whooshing buzzing sound with my little voice, spitting everywhere. I envisioned myself as Captain Solo, flying through space in the Millennium Falcon getting in adventures, and getting Chewbacca to tear the arms out of the sockets of anybody that would cross me. I Force Choked lot’s of people too because ‘I found their lack of faith disturbing’. Soon after, I caught Episode V: The Empire Strikes Back, at the Drive-In and lost my mind during the Battle Of Hoth. The AT-AT walkers and the Snowspeeders, Vader drops the Dad-Bomb on Luke’s face, the asteroid field?!
Episode VI: Return of the Jedi, was all about Lando, Nien Nunb and the Falcon leading the rebel fleet against the second Death-Star, The creepy Emperor Palpatine, Speederbikes and Carrie Fisher, my 7 year old Hollywood crush along with Erin Gray and Jaclyn Smith.

   I am sure, Mr. Abrams that you can relate, as you, in my opinion, hold the two pillars of geek-dom in your hands. The Trek, and The Wars. In ‘77 you were what? 10 years old? I would think a young, imaginative JJ was just as enthralled, if not more, than I. By the way, the two new Star Trek films, great job! When I found out that you were doing these films I knew you would not disappoint. I am as much of a trekkie as I am a fan of Star Wars. I am very into the back stories and Tales of the Bounty Hunters, Jabba’s Palace, Mos Eisley Cantina and Rogue Squadron. I loved LOST, and Super 8. So, in turn, now, I am a Solid JJ fan. When I learned that you held the reigns of the Star Wars universe I made a slight squeal and jumped up and down and proceeded to dum dumm da dummm the Imperial March up and down the hall, afterword, I went through my apartment with my imaginary light-saber and cut everything I own in two.

   Before I go too far, I must say that I am a Cinevore. I can watch movies over and over and over again. On my big cleaning days instead of listening to music I’ll do The Matrix in its entirety, or Indiana Jones, just in the background, and once in a while I sneak a peek at my favorite scenes “Kali Ma Shakti De!” If I can permit myself to be geek enough, I do the Original Trilogy once a month. And I’m talkin The Original Trilogy as it was seen in the theaters, without Boba Fett cruising sexy aliens chez Jabba, and no additional footage (Han Shot First!)

   On December 18^th at around 1:45 pm, after all the commercials and ads, 32 years of waiting, patiently, like a Jedi… the LucasFilm logo appeared silently on the screen and then…Music, yellow words crawling on the screen and all of my hairs stood on end. From beginning to end I was enthralled. My imagination went haywire. All of my own fantasies of that galaxy were realized in brilliant, undeniably crazy 3D IMAX style. I cried three times even. Even when the movie started, after all those commercials I had to pee, and I held it the whole time and it didn’t even bother me! All I want to do now, because I can't afford a real one, is get myself one of those fancy toy light sabers, which one? I don’t know yet, but soon it will happen!

   Episode VII: The Force Awakens is now my favorite movie ever! and pushed The Big Lebowski in to the number two spot. If you’re curious, number three is now Citizen Kane and The Empire Strikes Back is in number four, but was number one before I saw Citizen Kane and The Big Lebowski. Anywhoo!

  

    I thank you JJ. Thank you from the bottom of my geeky, grown up, childish heart. The Force is awake and alive again. For me, Star Wars is not “just a movie”. It is a place where imaginations run wild, where adults can be kids again and get absorbed into the myth that took place “A long time ago in a galaxy far, far away”. You really showed us what Star Wars is all about, and what it potentially can be. I knew the Force was strong with you. Merci, and continue doing what you’re doing. Je suis fier de vous.

Sincerely, respectfully and fanfully

William Douglas Hill.

were i to...

were i to get any stranger...
it would be dangerous...downright naughty.
uncontrollable outbursts of choking words
spitting on the airy scent of turds fluttering there and where-y
to and fro.

i guess some days aren't meant to be lived
in this way.

traded for a moment and sent astray;
frolicking in no directions.

were i  to get any more horny,
it would be revelling...upright proudly.
non-stop dry humping panties on my head;
jeans on jeans-dancing pelvises making out
up and down.

i guess some days, like adversity, 
are meant to be
grabbed by the ears
and fucked...
right...in...the face.

teach life a lesson, you bastard
you're in charge now...admiral. 


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the m u d d w a s p;;;;;;;;;;;Worshiplay

b e w a r w

                           what are Ww?
      floating?

            what are Ww? 

                 are Ww gloating without knowing it?

                             we'rw that volatilw...

                     with that smilw

               with that smilw

       i dare you to compilw

fuck your fashion and stylw

                            gnothi seauton

                    and doublw yous becomw fearsomw

                      incomesensw

            resonancw is pestilencw

                     bewarw

Rain Train ... -bilingue-

Montréal le matin
a layer of liquid laying there
every drop
covering her
splashing her
driving her
running and walking her
toutes les gouttes 
tombent, tombent, tombent

December month
Vancouver undertones
avec un accent français
tracks rail
trains passe
chat sighs soupir 
black café
no crème for me
juste pour elle

the ceiling well
slapped with rain
the wheels and feet 
in the wet 
mouillées
tranquilité of life
méchant vanishings
of abandonne
juste moi, la pluie
and no questions asked...




 
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UnCircadian

the dreams we dream

are the secrets of

our souls

the words we word

are the kingdoms of

our thoughts

the songs we sing

are the stories of

our past

the past is stories

sung in songs

by the thoughts

of our kingdoms

words

and of souls

whose secrets

dream dreams

 no need to sleep

 for dreams...

...

...

...

,,,


..https://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File%3AWLANL_-_Marjolein_Benard_-_Little_thought_No._2%2C_Qiangli_Liang_(2005)_detail.jpg

mindfiles

autobefriend and deflatego your waffle ego over-aged breakfast
cursivetexting subliminalaterally 
high fiving yourself 
unaware
putdowning with the wicked phonethings maintaining your
frameworked sustained trajectory of inspirationalist come-uppins

lucidly calculating outcomes

transferring all the normal into an oubliette...

Windy Thursday Morning Congé Montréal

Chaotic traffic hums. 727 prepares for landing. Fingers laptop tap-dancing. The sniffle of my girlfriend. Coffee on my breath. A Crow caws. Silence except the city. The tap-dancing slows. A gust of wind chills my toes, waltzing across my arm-hairs. Tickling and itching. The morning light indirectly floods the room through the skylight. The same one that highlighted that sweet full moon last night. The laptop whirs quietly. She clears her throat. We say nothing. We just sit. I write. Her fingers tap-dance on her clavier. I watch her little finger pointing in the air, far away as if the rest of her fingers were holding a cup of tea, not tap-dancing. 'I Love You'. I say. ' I Love You Too' She says. 'I love you more.' I say. 'I love you more too.' She says.




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homes (in haiku series)

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Refugee


http://www.wsj.com/articles/SB10001424127887323932604579052742703621858

improvising so

perfectly disturbedly

imperfecting art

all those targets hit

like precise deadly darts

tear their worlds apart

innocent people

all over this insane world

are cut from their lives

they have clothes and feet

hands to hold one another

up from falling down

indifference closing

doors on suffering and poor

humans with no choice

if i could i would

let every single one know

i cry and pray too

i would hold them close

and long as they cried their songs

of the hope they lost

now more than ever

we need to open our worlds

as much as our hearts

giving in to hate

is giving hatred a name

and an evil face

give our love and our

love will give life a chance to

flourish a life lived






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photo from the wall street journal

 

M. Mr.

random fun