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I Keep Banging My Head Against This Wall


What an apt title for today. Atlas must be jealous of so many who carry the weight of the world on their shoulders. How do we even stand upright these days? How is it that so many people care so little about anything but what is in their own little bubble?
After today's daily heart-shredding grind, I came home and tried to do a few things.


Only completed one of my photo renderings of TOK, and this irritated me already, as I am used to doing at least 2, at most 4. Then I get this message from someone on facebook, asking me to not post such scary pictures because they don't want their kid seeing it.


I mean, damn, there are so many photos (of actual people) crippled and maimed and shot, I've seen autopsy photos on fb, there are photos of animals who have been tortured...and I post photo art renderings from a movie and all of a sudden its 'too scary.' Whatever.


Mr. Farnsworth thoughtfully provided me with well over 70 stills from the movie, effectively overwhelming me. Seriously a nice guy - Diane Foster is amazing too, such a sweetheart and who could imagine going through the things she went through as Audrey and not come out on the other side of this film a changed person in some way?



The man who is TOK is not a gigantic guy, he's built well and trim, and I initially looked him up before having seen the movie, but I've since forgotten what he looks like except he's blonde. The mask kind of imprinted in my head; sure I know there's a guy, an actor behind the mask, but it doesn't seem to matter as he's carried off that character so perfectly. There's every emotion, stripped down and exposed, in one perfect voice designed just for TOK.


Because of my upbringing, each time I think of a few select scenes, I blanch. Automatic flinch -- can't help it. I see it in my head and immediately I think, "No, that is SO not right..." or "Oh damn that is really really wrong..."


Even if it's so wrong, even if I flinch, each bit has its place in the horror that is Marcus Miller: The Orphan Killer. Wasn't meant to be a pretty story. There are parts that immediately hit close to home; the abuse, the lack of mercy to a young child...


I am not enamoured by Farnsworth, or TOK, or Diane Foster -- maybe I'm just a fan, or maybe my natural knack for promoting the best in others has kicked in and I just jumped in, feet first. No, not enamoured - but I have absolutely developed a deep new respect for the horror industry and the rare gold these people bring to the table.


Early to bed.

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February 2014

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