Working througha clot of really depthy depression here... And manias...
I have a gremlin inside of me. An angry, clammy gremlin. It survives on hope and excretes a metallic lymph. I have physically seen it a number of times. I'm not being figurative. The weather about this time of year in LA can bring it out. The gremlin loves marine layer and the flirtations of autumn. If you talk to me you might be talking to a gremlin. It's like a motion-capture performance where you don't know if the actor or the animation is in control. Or maybe you don't even know which one is which. There's a head scratcher. You should have done that movie, Zemeckis. Or maybe that's what was happening... There's a head scratcher. But you thought Mars needed moms, so... Aw hell, I don't want to be mean. That's not me, it's the gremlin. I was at the Emmy pre-party the other day as a guest. 90% of the people there were so famous, it would have been a perfect time to be extra cool. So I got a screwdriver and I had to keep two hands on it because they were shaking! Just literally trembling. What is that? My answer now, after some time for reflection, is that I have been simply watching far too much TV. The gremlin feeds on television as well. So much hope and irony. We egg each other on to stay up later to find weirder and weirder things on the various channels. We don't have many channels at all, which is just fine. Even better for the gremlin. Sub-basic cable is like wet dog food for gremlins. Lick-the-can good programming for nervous, clammy gremlins. I'll often recline by the TV with a pad and pen and try to jot down some of the random effusions of this parasite mind before they lose solvency and deposit themselves as a shimmery film on my skin. Try to extract some usefulness before then. When the gremlin is distracted by the television I can usually skim a little off the top, if you follow me. But I have to be clever and nonchalant about it. It's actually very hard to be that way when what you've really got to do is to collect the little monster's farts. That's really all you can get without attracting too much attention. But it's usually enough when you're just talking about a pad and pen. It's not ideal, but I call that rent, for what it's worth. Little shit. But thanks for the farts.
I have a gremlin inside of me. An angry, clammy gremlin. It survives on hope and excretes a metallic lymph. I have physically seen it a number of times. I'm not being figurative. The weather about this time of year in LA can bring it out. The gremlin loves marine layer and the flirtations of autumn. If you talk to me you might be talking to a gremlin. It's like a motion-capture performance where you don't know if the actor or the animation is in control. Or maybe you don't even know which one is which. There's a head scratcher. You should have done that movie, Zemeckis. Or maybe that's what was happening... There's a head scratcher. But you thought Mars needed moms, so... Aw hell, I don't want to be mean. That's not me, it's the gremlin. I was at the Emmy pre-party the other day as a guest. 90% of the people there were so famous, it would have been a perfect time to be extra cool. So I got a screwdriver and I had to keep two hands on it because they were shaking! Just literally trembling. What is that? My answer now, after some time for reflection, is that I have been simply watching far too much TV. The gremlin feeds on television as well. So much hope and irony. We egg each other on to stay up later to find weirder and weirder things on the various channels. We don't have many channels at all, which is just fine. Even better for the gremlin. Sub-basic cable is like wet dog food for gremlins. Lick-the-can good programming for nervous, clammy gremlins. I'll often recline by the TV with a pad and pen and try to jot down some of the random effusions of this parasite mind before they lose solvency and deposit themselves as a shimmery film on my skin. Try to extract some usefulness before then. When the gremlin is distracted by the television I can usually skim a little off the top, if you follow me. But I have to be clever and nonchalant about it. It's actually very hard to be that way when what you've really got to do is to collect the little monster's farts. That's really all you can get without attracting too much attention. But it's usually enough when you're just talking about a pad and pen. It's not ideal, but I call that rent, for what it's worth. Little shit. But thanks for the farts.
3 comments:
This, I like very much.
Although I also am a fan of the film, 'Gremlins,' so I suppose that's not a surprise.
Did the Gremlin embarass you in front of Don Draper?
I was just thinking of Gremlins, looked it up--I hadn't realized there were the complaints of racism. Also the Leonard Maltin feud.
I almost ran into Don Draper's face. He was the first person I saw.
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