Sense of Dread

I've been to Hell and back. I've been to the deepest depths of the darkest parts of my mind, and I found you, my Other. You promised me things, you told me I'd be a star pupil, I'd be given things. All you brought me was blood. Dead bodies. Women, men, children...You've pushed me to a place where I hate the chaos around me. I'm drowning in this dark place you've brought me to. You are not alone in this place. No, I'm not. Because you...you fucking evil, vile, disgusting...beautiful thing...you're here too. You drag me down into these depths because I haven't evolved yet. I haven't become what the Father wants me to be. I'm not ready yet, I haven't lived up to your dreams. In fact...I think I have an idea. What idea? What are you talking about? I won't let you eat anymore. No, from now on I will be the one in control. I'll also find this other one like me. Yes...I'll leave New York, I'll go to Texas, I'l...

Okay so...this is less a review and more of a rant. This weekend I attempted to do the impossible...I tried to watch all of the Resident Evil films back to back to...well you get the idea. I want to say first that this isn't a shot at Milla Jovovich. She's great and I am indeed a huge fan of her work. It isn't even an attack against the cast or the crew...or even Paul W.S. Anderson...ok not entirely an attack (I still loved Alien V Predator and Event Horizon is totally amazing)...but this franchise? Yeah, it sucks. It really **BLEEP**ing sucks...it sucks so bad that I couldn't even get through the last movie (The Final Chapter). And yes, before people start blowing up my feed reminding me Anderson didn't direct all the movies...he was still the producer and writer for a few of them. For all intents and purposes, this is his baby, his mega franchise, and he made a ton of money making it. But let's start with the first film...Resident Evil. It got a lot of...

Honestly I have no idea what I wanted to write about today. I haven't really seen any new movies I wanted to talk about that I haven't already except for Glass and Bumblebee (Glass was ok, Bumblebee was awesome, if you have kids bring them to it ASAP). I also didn't want to release another part of my story (My Other) so soon after the first part. Instead, I'm taking my mentor's advice and just writing for the sake of writing...also because Kirk, Zeke and Beth are cracking the whip and if I don't write I'll be cursed...or something...so I'll just go back to what I talked about last time, and see if I can't explain some more about my psyche. Before I get into my dark side, let me just say that the outpouring of love and support I got after posting that was intense. I had no idea it would get that kind of a response and I greatly appreciate everything, every word, every DM, and every single one of you who followed or interacted with me on that. It m...

They say that the darkness inside of us comes out once in a while. Most times, we're not even aware of it when it happens. I've been trying to find a way to just...let my demons out, to take a walk, maybe have a bite to eat...I know, I know, I sound crazy, but hear me out. If I keep my monster inside of me all the time, and never let it out, won't it get mad and eat me? Won't it take hold and force me to do something I don't even want to do? Won't it...destroy me? To be quite clear, I'm just some guy, I pay my taxes, I follow the laws, but that Other, that demon inside of me, the monster that wants to come out and play, He is not part of this world, and therefore cannot be condemned by our archaic laws. I sound like I'm some kind of radical idealist, and in some ways I guess I am. But I think I'd rather just give in to my Other, my dark side, my dark half, this beast hidden away, this anger and this rage...just let him out for a bit. What's...

I like to write about stuff. Mostly movies, sometimes a collaboration with friends who've experienced spooky shit. Lately I've been writing a story, something very personal and dear to me. Some people I've spoken to about it have more or less figured out that I go to a very dark place in order to come up with ideas for this story (no, I'm not secretly a serial killer). I get to grab hold of those dark feelings, the anger, the rage, the sadness, the depression, my anxieties, and put them into a story, something entertaining, something creepy, something dark and maybe disturbing. But sometimes, those things do become a reality for me (again, not a serial killer). Last night was a rough one for me. I've been sick for the last few months (actually since Christmas Eve) and then my depression got the better of me yesterday. Every once in a while, I go to that dark place where I draw my inspiration from. To understand that place, I have to go back to when I was a kid...

Darkness swirled around me like liquid. I try to focus, but my eyes refuse. My vision blurred, I couldn't see. There was something very wrong going on, but you refused to allow me to explain. The suffocating darkness, it overwhelms and drowns me. I drown in this ocean, void of light, void of caring, void of anything that even resembles something...human. I rub my eyes and try to focus. I open my mouth and try to take a breath. Nothing happens, nothing works. I try to scream, but no sounds are made. I'm trapped in the absolute silence. I'm trapped in the void. There's no way out. There's no way out. There is no way to escape the blood. There is no way to escape the darkness. I start to panic again. I close my eyes tightly, I try to force this nightmare to leave me. But it just gets darker and darker. It gets more intense. I feel cold. There is no heat here, there is no light, there is no warmth in this void. Somehow, I can see myself now. I watch as I sink fu...

I ran my hands through my hair and stared in the mirror. Age was starting to catch up with me, as I noticed the gray here and there on my head, the thinning hairline, and the grey in my beard. I thought about shaving it that morning, but I was already running late. After brushing my teeth, taking my medication, and dressing, I headed out to meet my wife at the car. She put it into gear and we both headed to our day job. "You feeling okay?" she asked, wondering why my face was so red. "Not really, maybe allergies?" I replied. I really did not feel well. My face felt red and hot, my body tired and sluggish. Maybe I was getting a cold. It could be those late nights I was spending trying to find something to write about. I'd sit in my office which doubles as a gaming room, usually on Xbox Live chatting with friends as I pondered about ideas for where to take my serial killer, Jeremy. I was finding that it was harder than it looked to be a writer. I had ide...