It Gets Worse

This will be a weird post.  I want to start writing more music reviews.  That doesn't mean that I will, just that I want to.  Why is it hard for me to write music reviews?  Here's a better question, you fiddle-footed fuck (I'm cursing myself, not you); why is it hard for me to write period?  I never actually wanted to be a "professional" writer.  It's one of the things that I can do, and it just so happens that I do it marginally well.  It doesn't help that I'm constantly feuding with my brain.  If I could, I'd stay in bed all of the time.

That's the scary part of the matter.  I COULD stay in bed all of the time.  I mean, I'm sure that my mother would force me out at some point, but pragmatically speaking, I have no reason to get out of bed.  No job.  No social life (on a day-to-day basis anyway).  I'm taking you deeper into the recesses of my mind than I'm comfortable with, but hey, this is what I wanted to write.  I won't take you any deeper, though.  It gets worse.  Darker.  On a dumbhearted note, I watched 1994's No Escape earlier today.  It's a sci-fi actioner starring Ray Liotta, Lance Henriksen, Kevin J. O'Connor and Kevin Dillon.

Set in the future, the film follows convicts on a jeopardous prison island.  Remember TBS's "Movies For Guys Who Like Movies"?  This is one such movie.  It will make you feel like a man, even if you're a bicycle.  Or a kettle!  I enjoyed it.  Music?  Oh, I'm currently listening to Marduk's Heaven Shall Burn...When We Are Gathered.  I'm letting you know so that you think I'm cool.  I'm cool.