[batavias]

this year has been a really good year for me in terms of random acts of senseless romance

[tourneurs]

Mazurka (1935) dir. Willi Forst

[batavias]

No more fucking hurr hurr do you think you could fight a bear or a shark coworker questions. answer me honestly and sincerely. do you genuinely think you could outlast a single armadillo if you were marooned a remote isle. you're not allowed to kill it or intervene with its life in any way. but do you think you could outlast it

[batavias]

We don't need pretty people anymore we can just ai generate one buxom blonde and she can be everyone's girlfriend

Stern board of directors: that seems gay

I am bashing the table and screaming HOW?????

[falsenote]

when your circle is small but y'all fucking crazy

[falsenote]

Todo Modo by Elio Petri: Forty Years Ago, Study After Velázquez’s Portrait of Pope Innocent X

[falsenote]

Todo Modo (1976)

[gusvanscant]

'Capote' (dir. by Bennett Miller) [2005]

[spacecasey]

god I love Pinterest

[falsenote]

Todo Modo (1976)

[falsenote]

Todo Modo (1976)

[batavias]

Parasocial as a word should've never been about wanting to screw celebrities too much. It should've been about one thing and one thing only: hanging out with ghosts and playing with your ouija board to get the gossip from demons pretending to be your dead ancestors. None of this fucking Baby Reindeer crap. Parasociality should've been about eventually ruining your own life because you are obsessed with interfacing with the paranormal, taking gambles on an invisible world you hope to a destructive extent is there for reasons to do with your own increasing isolation from modernity and your peers. Instead we cry parasocial when there's a girl somewhere in India who says on X in broken English that she wishes to lay Tom Cruise out on a cold morgue table and dissect him with careful attention paid to his bisexual gland. We bitch and we moan about the wrong parasociality as a society because we favour spectacle over a promethean pursuit of truth and discovery. And that my friends is fucked

[the1970z]

Making Daisy Chains in Golden Gate Park - San Francisco, California

[batavias]

SSRIs will make it so you can't fuck ever ever again without forcing your lover to touch upon some old childhood psychological wound repeatedly, but they DO make you appreciate certain arias in opera way way more than the standard ear. It's a trade off. Sort of like how actually having a mint after a meal at a restaurant makes you feel a bit like a cokehead, like an annoying cokehead with the drips, but it does freshen you up enough significantly to the extent you can actually contemplate driving home drunk with a clear and perhaps even positive mindset

[batavias]

I was taught a profound lesson by one of my father's peers back in the day and it was that if you are dealing with people as scummy as you, you can threaten anything because if they are as scummy as you, they can't do shit about it. So you have to take the opportunity to make your threats as exuberant as possible like life is your stage and you are the biggest diva there. My dad's friend got in trouble for drunkenly smashing up a Yakuza bar in downtown Yokohama, and my family weren't going to get involved cause they had horrendous crime relations with this particular clan down south and any attempt to defend a violent young man they were loosely connected to would look like a reinstigation of war terms, so they sort of shrugged at my dad like wtf are you gonna do, white dude. get your buddy man get your buddy because this ain't our beef. And my dad is an admittedly schizophrenic (I say this because sometimes his condition has historically made him brave but only fleetingly and usually with unreliable consequences) coward so he didn't do anything. So his friend was just calling the people who were threatening to kill him every day like "I am Irish and a part of the IRA I will come back and do some terrorist shit. Make no mistake" and the owner was like if I find you I'm going to take the damage you caused out of your body man. I think for every broken bone you'll pay off a certain amount of yen. Sound feasible? But the guy was still consistently calling him back every day and sending him notes in response like "I will make bombs I'm not joking." and finally they just reached a stalemate and pretended not to know each other anymore. This is also incidentally how I learnt the definition of the phrase "even a worm will turn" from my dad's buddy, which is what he would say in response to outside circumstances pressuring him to my father, positioning himself for some reason as the noble worm

[imjustheretoseetheprivateblogs]

I like how this scene is almost directed like a science fiction movie & Howard Hughes is an alien

[moviesiveseenandwanttoremember]

Juraj Herz’s “Spalovač mrtvol” (The Cremator) March 14, 1969.