Nicolas Cage starring in movie adaptation of Lovecraft’s ‘The Colour Out of Space’ which is perfect madness
Nic Cage does madness very fucking well. For the most recent example, check out Mandy. With that in mind, I’m pretty stoked to watch him unravel in a movie adaptation of Lovecraft’s haunting-ass The Colour Out of Space.
I am no great leader of men. I am not good at planning, or issuing commands. For many that may be difficult to admit, but I find leaning into your strengths and acknowledging your weaknesses is the best route. I am no great leader of men, but I’m certainly quite adept at being their right hand man. I think this is one of the reasons I get along with my wife, Sam. She is an Alpha-Human, designed to implement designs. Bend reality to her will. And I’m there to. You know. Make her laugh at the end of a long day of being professional and powerful and whatever. I can’t budget, I can’t conceive of running conferences like her. But when she’s hungry I can get her a bagel. Listen, it’s not the most glamorous life. But when you’ve caught the tail of a brilliant, gorgeous comet, you play to your strengths.
It’s Monday! Which means a Morning Commute. How did mine go? Well — I was rear ended for the third time in two years as I drove on I-93 South towards UMass Boston. People! Look up from your fucking phones. I beg you. My spaghetti-brain begs you. My consistently whiplash’d neck begs you. I hope, I pray to the Old Ones, that your commute was better than mine. The only perk? The Immediate Migraine and Sore Neck meant I got to go home. Though after thinking about it, a day of lost wages and suffering doesn’t seem like fair trade for a Monday on the couch. Eh. Whatever!
It’s the Weekend! That can only mean one thing! Exerting a feigned since of self-autonomy through consumption and reproduction! The Man can’t hold us down! Not as long as we eat shitty food, buy shitty baubles, and consume shitty entertainment they engineer to distract us! Ha! Fuck you, The Man! And as a final, fleeting mechanism for self-actualization, we will gather here in the Weekend Open Bar.
It’s Thursday! That can only mean one thing! Uh. The resurrection of a column from bygone days. Views From The Space-Ship. In an effort to generate that wanky, let’s all piss together holding one another’s genitals-type inclusive vibe, I share sights and sounds from my virtual and real world. Then I ask you to do the same. It’s like Instagram, but not as cool. Or inhabited. Or frequented. Or even acknowledged. But fuck I’m busy lately, so here’s something about me. In picture form. Hope you share too.
And on the 22 of September 2014, I am writing this column. Monday Morning Commute. High on cough syrup, low on existence, I’m coming to you live from the Space-Ship Omega. Per par for the perpetual course, these are the niceties that are capturing my attention, imagination, and speculation during this week. Serving as a ship to hopefully sail me across the tempestuous work week waves.
You know for a week that was -1 because of a holiday, it sure felt like a grueling fucking work week. First few days during the teaching life always seems to feel that way. “Did I print this?”, “Am I going to have to piss during class because of the three Monster energy drinks in me?”, “Is this the semester I finally get black bagged for subversive syllabi?”
All those awful thoughts and more. Condensed into four days. But now it’s the fucking Weekend! Which actually means class prep! But fuck class prep right now! #YOLOCORE.