Author. Occult historian. Crate digger. Film geek. Paterfamilias. Chasing magick, myth, kayfabe, crows, High Strangeness & the divine flicker across Los Angeles
Funk was never really a genre. It was an invitation to imagine a freer universe. George Clinton wrote the scriptures. Bootsy supplied the heartbeat. Overton Loyd drew the maps.
So here's a transmission from a funkier timeline, when basslines were theology and cartoons knew about liberation.
https://t.co/V7oc4b0bvk
Dance with the Dweller. It knows where every skeleton is buried and every unlived dream is hiding. Slay the dragons that guard the thresholds of your own becoming.
@retrofilmm The film understands something many horror movies don't: a city can become haunted long before anyone sees a ghost. Or, you know, a strange dark cult of cannabalistic ghouls. Whichever you prefer.
I wrote a story about a forgotten donut shop where the coffee is always fresh, the maple bars are unforgettable, and a few lonely, condemned souls have spent centuries trying to convince Los Angeles that even the damned are still capable of love.
https://t.co/yzlYfbmL3r
@BrianRSolomon Eyeing that "Fred Blassie: Back from the Dead" article. I refuse to believe it's anything less than twelve pages of The Hollywood Fashion Plate explaining why death was full of pencil-neck geeks.
Still pondering someday moving to Berlin and starting a German Techno Pop or Krautrock band that only plays sexually charged covers of Phil Collins tunes. Obviously, I would call this multi-million dollar endeavor: FEEL COLONS.
@nittatherebel Wisdom and elitism are different species. One invites you to come closer. The other needs you to stay beneath it.
The ego builds hierarchies, the soul builds communities.
@EmmaJeanHole Andrew Wood always struck me as the patron saint of beautiful almosts. Every time I hear Mother Love Bone, I can't shake the feeling that some parallel universe got an extra decade with him, and that world is still enchanted and singing along.
Normalize talking to ghosts, making out with ideas, emoting over dead mixtapes.
If the world’s going to end, let it end poetically.
Be the person who dances barefoot in the ruins, laughs during eclipses, throws parties for forgotten goddesses and fights for the people you love.
I wrote about "Grunt! The Wrestling Movie" on Letterboxd. Less a review than a promo for the strange proposition that professional wrestling might be America's last surviving folk religion.
https://t.co/WXPZcipqha