Jul 25, 2022·2 repliesJim Jarmusch rules. Just watched Stranger Than Paradise and Down By Law. Both excellent. Feel like they were made for me. Tom Waits is great in Down By Law. Both have such a particular mood.
Jul 25, 2022·1 replyFellaJim Jarmusch rules. Just watched Stranger Than Paradise and Down By Law. Both excellent. Feel like they were made for me. Tom Waits is great in Down By Law. Both have such a particular mood.
I was talking about Dead Man like last week. Jim’s the truth. watch his next masterpiece soon.
- Jul 25, 2022internet buddy
I was talking about Dead Man like last week. Jim’s the truth. watch his next masterpiece soon.
Yeah Dead Man is fantastic
Jul 25, 2022FellaJim Jarmusch rules. Just watched Stranger Than Paradise and Down By Law. Both excellent. Feel like they were made for me. Tom Waits is great in Down By Law. Both have such a particular mood.
Jul 25, 2022·1 reply
Jul 25, 2022internet buddyIt certainly deserves. Even if I wish The Gift only used its instrumental
just unplug your left speaker or wear only your right headphone when it plays (note: the headphone tactic is uncomfortable)
- Jul 25, 2022·2 replies
Best place to play "The Gift" is in the car, cause I play it so loud, the music just drowns Cale's voice out as a background noise.
- Jul 25, 2022https://twitter.com/hourly_shitpost/status/1551145198956281857sniper
He couldn’t call first?
- Jul 25, 2022Galaxy de list mon
Best place to play "The Gift" is in the car, cause I play it so loud, the music just drowns Cale's voice out as a background noise.
The song would be better if his voice was mixed lower like barely audible just as a mindfuck.
rvi 🐦⬛Jul 25, 2022i like how Cale's narration fits over the gift
- Jul 25, 2022·1 reply
Waldo Jeffers had reached his limit. It was now Mid-August which meant he had
been separated from Marsha for more than two months. Two months, and all he had
to show was three dog-eared letters and two very expensive long-distance phone
calls. True, when school had ended and she'd returned to Wisconsin, and he to
Locust, Pennsylvania, she had sworn to maintain a certain fidelity. She would
date occasionally, but merely as amusement. She would remain faithful.
But lately Waldo had begun to worry. He had trouble sleeping at night and when
he did, he had horrible dreams. He lay awake at night, tossing and turning
underneath his pleated quilt protector, tears welling in his eyes as he
pictured Marsha, her sworn vows overcome by liquor and the smooth soothing of
some neanderthal, finally submitting to the final caresses of sexual oblivion.
It was more than the human mind could bear.
Visions of Marsha's faithlessness haunted him. Daytime fantasies of sexual
abandon permeated his thoughts. And the thing was, they wouldn't understand how
she really was. He, Waldo, alone understood this. He had intuitively grasped
every nook and cranny of her psyche. He had made her smile. She needed him, and
he wasn't there (Aw...).
The idea came to him on the Thursday before the Mummers' Parade was scheduled
to appear. He'd just finished mowing and etching the Edelsons lawn for a dollar
fifty and had checked the mailbox to see if there was at least a word from
Marsha. There was nothing but a circular from the Amalgamated Aluminum Company
of America inquiring into his awing needs. At least they cared enough to write.
It was a New York company. You could go anywhere in the mails. Then it struck
him. He didn't have enough money to go to Wisconsin in the accepted fashion,
true, but why not mail himself? It was absurdly simple. He would ship himself
parcel post, special delivery. The next day Waldo went to the supermarket to
purchase the necessary equipment. He bought masking tape, a staple gun and a
medium sized cardboard box just right for a person of his build. He judged that
with a minimum of jostling he could ride quite comfortably. A few airholes,
some water, perhaps some midnight snacks, and it would probably be as good as
going tourist.
By Friday afternoon, Waldo was set. He was thoroughly packed and the post
office had agreed to pick him up at three o'clock. He'd marked the package
"Fragile", and as he sat curled up inside, resting on the foam rubber
cushioning he'd thoughtfully included, he tried to picture the look of awe and
happiness on Marsha's face as she opened her door, saw the package, tipped the
deliverer, and then opened it to see her Waldo finally there in person. She
would kiss him, and then maybe they could see a movie. If he'd only thought of
this before. Suddenly rough hands gripped his package and he felt himself borne
up. He landed with a thud in a truck and was off.
Marsha Bronson had just finished setting her hair. It had been a very rough
weekend. She had to remember not to drink like that. Bill had been nice about
it though. After it was over he'd said he still respected her and, after all,
it was certainly the way of nature, and even though, no he didn't love her, he
did feel an affection for her. And after all, they were grown adults. Oh, what
Bill could teach Waldo - but that seemed many years ago.
Sheila Klein, her very, very best friend, walked in through the porch screen
door and into the kitchen. "Oh gawd, it's absolutely maudlin outside." "Ach, I
know what you mean, I feel all icky!" Marsha tightened the belt on her cotton
robe with the silk outer edge. Sheila ran her finger over some salt grains on
the kitchen table, licked her finger and made a face. "I'm supposed to be
taking these salt pills, but, " she wrinkled her nose, "they make me feel like
throwing up." Marsha started to pat herself under the chin, an exercise she'd
seen on television. "God, don't even talk about that." She got up from the
table and went to the sink where she picked up a bottle of pink and blue
vitamins. "Want one? Supposed to be better than steak, " and then attempted to
touch her knees. "I don't think I'll ever touch a daiquiri again."
She gave up and sat down, this time nearer the small table that supported the
telephone. "Maybe Bill'll call, " she said to Sheila's glance. Sheila nibbled on
a cuticle. "After last night, I thought maybe you'd be through with him." "I
know what you mean. My God, he was like an octopus. Hands all over the place."
She gestured, raising her arms upwards in defense. "The thing is, after a
while, you get tired of fighting with him, you know, and after all I didn't
really do anything Friday and Saturday so I kind of owed it to him. You know
what I mean." She started to scratch. Sheila was giggling with her hand over
her mouth. "I'll tell you, I felt the same way, and even after a while, " here
she bent forward in a whisper, "I wanted to!" Now she was laughing very loudly.
It was at this point that Mr. Jameson of the Clarence Darrow Post Office rang
the doorbell of the large stucco colored frame house. When Marsha Bronson
opened the door, he helped her carry the package in. He had his yellow and his
green slips of paper signed and left with a fifteen cent tip that Marsha had
gotten out of her mother's small beige pocketbook in the den. "What do you
think it is?" Sheila asked. Marsha stood with her arms folded behind her back.
She stared at the brown cardboard carton that sat in the middle of the living
room. "I dunno."
Inside the package, Waldo quivered with excitement as he listened to the
muffled voices. Sheila ran her fingernail over the masking tape that ran down
the center of the carton. "Why don't you look at the return address and see who
it's from?" Waldo felt his heart beating. He could feel the
vibrating footsteps. It would be soon.
Marsha walked around the carton and read the ink-scratched label. "Ah, god,
it's from Waldo!" "That schmuck!" said Sheila. Waldo trembled with expectation.
"Well, you might as well open it, " said Sheila. Both of them tried to lift the
staple flap. "Ah sst, " said Marsha, groaning, "he must have nailed it shut."
They tugged on the flap again. "My God, you need a power drill to get this
thing open!" They pulled again. "You can't get a grip." They both stood still,
breathing heavily.
"Why don't you get a scissor, " said Sheila. Marsha ran into the kitchen, but
all she could find was a little sewing scissor. Then she remembered that her
father kept a collection of tools in the basement. She ran downstairs, and when
she came back up, she had a large sheet metal cutter
in her hand. "This is the best I could find." She was very out of breath.
"Here, you do it. I-I'm gonna die." She sank into a large fluffy couch and
exhaled noisily. Sheila tried to make a slit between the masking tape and the
end of the cardboard flap, but the blade was too big and there wasn't enough
room. "God damn this thing!" she said feeling very exasperated. Then smiling,
"I got an idea." "What?" said Marsha. "Just watch, " said Sheila, touching her
finger to her head.
Inside the package, Waldo was so transfixed with excitement that he could
barely breathe. His skin felt prickly from the heat, and he could feel his
heart beating in his throat. It would be soon. Sheila stood quite upright and
walked around to the other side of the package. Then she sank down to her
knees, grasped the cutter by both handles, took a deep breath, and plunged the
long blade through the middle of the package, through the masking tape, through
the cardboard, through the cushioning and (thud) right through the center of
Waldo Jeffers head, which split slightly and caused little rhythmic arcs of red
to pulsate gently in the morning sun. - Jul 25, 2022·1 replyGalaxy de list mon
Waldo Jeffers had reached his limit. It was now Mid-August which meant he had
been separated from Marsha for more than two months. Two months, and all he had
to show was three dog-eared letters and two very expensive long-distance phone
calls. True, when school had ended and she'd returned to Wisconsin, and he to
Locust, Pennsylvania, she had sworn to maintain a certain fidelity. She would
date occasionally, but merely as amusement. She would remain faithful.
But lately Waldo had begun to worry. He had trouble sleeping at night and when
he did, he had horrible dreams. He lay awake at night, tossing and turning
underneath his pleated quilt protector, tears welling in his eyes as he
pictured Marsha, her sworn vows overcome by liquor and the smooth soothing of
some neanderthal, finally submitting to the final caresses of sexual oblivion.
It was more than the human mind could bear.
Visions of Marsha's faithlessness haunted him. Daytime fantasies of sexual
abandon permeated his thoughts. And the thing was, they wouldn't understand how
she really was. He, Waldo, alone understood this. He had intuitively grasped
every nook and cranny of her psyche. He had made her smile. She needed him, and
he wasn't there (Aw...).
The idea came to him on the Thursday before the Mummers' Parade was scheduled
to appear. He'd just finished mowing and etching the Edelsons lawn for a dollar
fifty and had checked the mailbox to see if there was at least a word from
Marsha. There was nothing but a circular from the Amalgamated Aluminum Company
of America inquiring into his awing needs. At least they cared enough to write.
It was a New York company. You could go anywhere in the mails. Then it struck
him. He didn't have enough money to go to Wisconsin in the accepted fashion,
true, but why not mail himself? It was absurdly simple. He would ship himself
parcel post, special delivery. The next day Waldo went to the supermarket to
purchase the necessary equipment. He bought masking tape, a staple gun and a
medium sized cardboard box just right for a person of his build. He judged that
with a minimum of jostling he could ride quite comfortably. A few airholes,
some water, perhaps some midnight snacks, and it would probably be as good as
going tourist.
By Friday afternoon, Waldo was set. He was thoroughly packed and the post
office had agreed to pick him up at three o'clock. He'd marked the package
"Fragile", and as he sat curled up inside, resting on the foam rubber
cushioning he'd thoughtfully included, he tried to picture the look of awe and
happiness on Marsha's face as she opened her door, saw the package, tipped the
deliverer, and then opened it to see her Waldo finally there in person. She
would kiss him, and then maybe they could see a movie. If he'd only thought of
this before. Suddenly rough hands gripped his package and he felt himself borne
up. He landed with a thud in a truck and was off.
Marsha Bronson had just finished setting her hair. It had been a very rough
weekend. She had to remember not to drink like that. Bill had been nice about
it though. After it was over he'd said he still respected her and, after all,
it was certainly the way of nature, and even though, no he didn't love her, he
did feel an affection for her. And after all, they were grown adults. Oh, what
Bill could teach Waldo - but that seemed many years ago.
Sheila Klein, her very, very best friend, walked in through the porch screen
door and into the kitchen. "Oh gawd, it's absolutely maudlin outside." "Ach, I
know what you mean, I feel all icky!" Marsha tightened the belt on her cotton
robe with the silk outer edge. Sheila ran her finger over some salt grains on
the kitchen table, licked her finger and made a face. "I'm supposed to be
taking these salt pills, but, " she wrinkled her nose, "they make me feel like
throwing up." Marsha started to pat herself under the chin, an exercise she'd
seen on television. "God, don't even talk about that." She got up from the
table and went to the sink where she picked up a bottle of pink and blue
vitamins. "Want one? Supposed to be better than steak, " and then attempted to
touch her knees. "I don't think I'll ever touch a daiquiri again."
She gave up and sat down, this time nearer the small table that supported the
telephone. "Maybe Bill'll call, " she said to Sheila's glance. Sheila nibbled on
a cuticle. "After last night, I thought maybe you'd be through with him." "I
know what you mean. My God, he was like an octopus. Hands all over the place."
She gestured, raising her arms upwards in defense. "The thing is, after a
while, you get tired of fighting with him, you know, and after all I didn't
really do anything Friday and Saturday so I kind of owed it to him. You know
what I mean." She started to scratch. Sheila was giggling with her hand over
her mouth. "I'll tell you, I felt the same way, and even after a while, " here
she bent forward in a whisper, "I wanted to!" Now she was laughing very loudly.
It was at this point that Mr. Jameson of the Clarence Darrow Post Office rang
the doorbell of the large stucco colored frame house. When Marsha Bronson
opened the door, he helped her carry the package in. He had his yellow and his
green slips of paper signed and left with a fifteen cent tip that Marsha had
gotten out of her mother's small beige pocketbook in the den. "What do you
think it is?" Sheila asked. Marsha stood with her arms folded behind her back.
She stared at the brown cardboard carton that sat in the middle of the living
room. "I dunno."
Inside the package, Waldo quivered with excitement as he listened to the
muffled voices. Sheila ran her fingernail over the masking tape that ran down
the center of the carton. "Why don't you look at the return address and see who
it's from?" Waldo felt his heart beating. He could feel the
vibrating footsteps. It would be soon.
Marsha walked around the carton and read the ink-scratched label. "Ah, god,
it's from Waldo!" "That schmuck!" said Sheila. Waldo trembled with expectation.
"Well, you might as well open it, " said Sheila. Both of them tried to lift the
staple flap. "Ah sst, " said Marsha, groaning, "he must have nailed it shut."
They tugged on the flap again. "My God, you need a power drill to get this
thing open!" They pulled again. "You can't get a grip." They both stood still,
breathing heavily.
"Why don't you get a scissor, " said Sheila. Marsha ran into the kitchen, but
all she could find was a little sewing scissor. Then she remembered that her
father kept a collection of tools in the basement. She ran downstairs, and when
she came back up, she had a large sheet metal cutter
in her hand. "This is the best I could find." She was very out of breath.
"Here, you do it. I-I'm gonna die." She sank into a large fluffy couch and
exhaled noisily. Sheila tried to make a slit between the masking tape and the
end of the cardboard flap, but the blade was too big and there wasn't enough
room. "God damn this thing!" she said feeling very exasperated. Then smiling,
"I got an idea." "What?" said Marsha. "Just watch, " said Sheila, touching her
finger to her head.
Inside the package, Waldo was so transfixed with excitement that he could
barely breathe. His skin felt prickly from the heat, and he could feel his
heart beating in his throat. It would be soon. Sheila stood quite upright and
walked around to the other side of the package. Then she sank down to her
knees, grasped the cutter by both handles, took a deep breath, and plunged the
long blade through the middle of the package, through the masking tape, through
the cardboard, through the cushioning and (thud) right through the center of
Waldo Jeffers head, which split slightly and caused little rhythmic arcs of red
to pulsate gently in the morning sun.The end is so funny
- Jul 25, 2022internet buddy
The end is so funny
True. Was gonna mention I always end up paying attention just to hear the end of the story lol.
- rvi 🐦⬛Jul 25, 2022·1 reply
i like when she says the guy was like an octopus
Jul 25, 2022·1 replyFellaI feel like I’m being gaslit lol
u dont like it or what
- Jul 25, 2022rvi
i like when she says the guy was like an octopus
Hands all over the place lol
I wonder how many drafts Lou had to write to get that right - rvi 🐦⬛Jul 25, 2022·5 replies
this really has to be brian wilson's last tour. its sad to see him like this where he literally sits silently at the piano without touching it once and just attempts to sing on a handful of songs. it seems like its gotten worse for this tour, before he was at least co-singing pretty much all the songs and playing some piano i think
ik they say it's his choice to tour or w/e but its sad to see him like this
- Jul 25, 2022rvi
this really has to be brian wilson's last tour. its sad to see him like this where he literally sits silently at the piano without touching it once and just attempts to sing on a handful of songs. it seems like its gotten worse for this tour, before he was at least co-singing pretty much all the songs and playing some piano i think
ik they say it's his choice to tour or w/e but its sad to see him like this
!https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=C0kEEYjycas 
- Jul 25, 2022·1 replyrvi
this really has to be brian wilson's last tour. its sad to see him like this where he literally sits silently at the piano without touching it once and just attempts to sing on a handful of songs. it seems like its gotten worse for this tour, before he was at least co-singing pretty much all the songs and playing some piano i think
ik they say it's his choice to tour or w/e but its sad to see him like this
!https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=C0kEEYjycas got dam
- Jul 25, 2022·1 replyrvi
this really has to be brian wilson's last tour. its sad to see him like this where he literally sits silently at the piano without touching it once and just attempts to sing on a handful of songs. it seems like its gotten worse for this tour, before he was at least co-singing pretty much all the songs and playing some piano i think
ik they say it's his choice to tour or w/e but its sad to see him like this
!https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=C0kEEYjycas He was getting bad when I saw him almost 6 years ago. But this is like Nicholson at the end of Cuckoo’s Nest
- rvi 🐦⬛Jul 25, 2022woof
got dam
i was actually surprised to see how much worse its apparently gotten. not gonna get into the moral aspect of it like some people are guessing if hes being forced/pressured to. but if this is the norm now it seems like they are literally just touring his body as a prop
- Jul 25, 2022rvi
this really has to be brian wilson's last tour. its sad to see him like this where he literally sits silently at the piano without touching it once and just attempts to sing on a handful of songs. it seems like its gotten worse for this tour, before he was at least co-singing pretty much all the songs and playing some piano i think
ik they say it's his choice to tour or w/e but its sad to see him like this
!https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=C0kEEYjycas When he passes I’ll be so devastated. Probably will cry like a baby.
- rvi 🐦⬛Jul 25, 2022·1 replyinternet buddy
He was getting bad when I saw him almost 6 years ago. But this is like Nicholson at the end of Cuckoo’s Nest
when i saw him 6 years ago he was obviously in good spirits and was singing at least a good part of the song on every single song but a few (which werent his lead vocals anyway). and it was a more uplifting and celebratory atmosphere where everyone was perfectly content to see him sing and celebrate the pet sounds anniversary even though obviously his voice was totally shot
for that tour i would have recommended it for a huge fan of him for the experience but not necessarily someone wanting to see a great concert in general. very glad i went
- Jul 25, 2022rvi
when i saw him 6 years ago he was obviously in good spirits and was singing at least a good part of the song on every single song but a few (which werent his lead vocals anyway). and it was a more uplifting and celebratory atmosphere where everyone was perfectly content to see him sing and celebrate the pet sounds anniversary even though obviously his voice was totally shot
for that tour i would have recommended it for a huge fan of him for the experience but not necessarily someone wanting to see a great concert in general. very glad i went
When he did Wild Honey songs
JUST DON’T LET GO
- Jul 25, 2022rvi
this really has to be brian wilson's last tour. its sad to see him like this where he literally sits silently at the piano without touching it once and just attempts to sing on a handful of songs. it seems like its gotten worse for this tour, before he was at least co-singing pretty much all the songs and playing some piano i think
ik they say it's his choice to tour or w/e but its sad to see him like this
!https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=C0kEEYjycas Tbh when I saw Smile tour i was thinking man I'm glad I saw this cause he is barely holding it together up there. That was 18 years ago.
