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crazying?? |
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can you backflip just as you jizzing?? cool self bukkake mid airing?? |
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I'm too old. My wheels are shot. It's a young man's game. Besides, there's drugs now. Kids are playing on coke, speed. When I was younger, it was booze. Somehow it was more human. Booze, huh? Booze. Yeah. Wine. It goes back to the Bible. The Bible never mentions amphetamines. |
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i've yet to get an answer as to why tom waits. |
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is that bukowski? reads like it |
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scorsese |
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tom waits has nothing to do with this thread |
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ohh colour of money, right. never seen it bandcamp is just a reliable host with a small url i can give out without shame and without having to fuck around with sendspace vs mega etc. pretty sure i will never make anything close to a living from music, and i get that bandscramp can be a circle jerk at times, but on balance i kinda like it, soz |
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damn that should be in the other thread, i'm conflating posts |
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i'll paste it over there and reply there meanwhile reply to this thread here for not that thing aforementioned |
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One thing to love about him is that he loves being “Tom Cruise.” He enjoys showing us his work — the clenching, the air-punching, the running, the running, the running. Basically, he lives for that maximal state of personality engorgement otherwise known as … him. Cruise seems to know his specialty is on the endangered species list, that the real stars now are intellectual property — remakes and reboots and cinematic installment plans. Thor, not Chris Hemsworth. Spider-Man as opposed to Tom Holland or Andrew Garfield or Tobey Maguire. All those Batmen. It’s possible to behold the stars flying around Avengers offshoots and League of Justice slogs and get a certain astral kick. But those aren’t constellations. They’re salads. |
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In 1986, there was more than “Top Gun” to Cruise. Five months later, he was back, in “The Color of Money.” It wasn’t really Cruise’s film. It was Paul Newman’s, itself a sequel to his pool hall melodrama, “The Hustler,” 25 years later. Here, the washed up maverick is Newman, educating Cruise in comportment, honing his skill at the pool table and showing him how to exploit all of that talent. Newman was 61, which is nothing like Cruise’s extraterrestrial 60. He’s gray, with wrinkles and some creaks. There’s history in those creases: reserves of sadness, loss, disappointment, shame, hurt, loneliness, eased along by cigarettes and booze. For a veteran star, these are virtues. Currency. And the movie compels you to appreciate the accrual of time — the decades he’s lived, the decades we’ve lived alongside a version of him. How much had he changed? How much had we? “The Color of Money” is the opposite of that first “Top Gun.” It’s a showcase in allure instead of machismo. It’s also a Martin Scorsese movie (that Richard Price wrote), so the camera Tarzans here and there. But Scorsese knows what he’s got in Newman: meaning. His greatest trick is the amount of time Newman’s face spends behind a pair of shades. Those glittering blue eyes of his seem incongruous with the shabbiness and blight of the movie’s high-risk, low-rent pool hall scene. So Scorsese treats them like two jewels in a vault. And we get to remember what the rest of Newman can do, with stillness and pauses, exasperation, rue and delight. It’s not as if Scorsese doesn’t know what he’s got in Cruise: bombs bursting in air. Whenever it can, the movie watches Newman watching Cruise, taking him in, absorbing his vulgarity, his volume, his volatility. “Child care,” he growls. But he senses the inevitable, too. “You’re gonna be one of the greats, kiddo,” he tells Cruise, clutching a predictive wad of $100 bills. i read this and thought: "and it's a scorsese film" and yeah that w |
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epic made my thread his bitch! |
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my thread got epichandled! |
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is there no god?! |
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are all i can remember after all that we've been through forever in my heaaart |
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