I Got A Gut Feeling

I'm at the point of life where a lot of the people I know are beginning to get married. This bothers me. I mean, it's not unexpected but I guess as a kid I figured things were going to turn out a little bit different. Didn't you ever do that shit when you were little? I used to think I'd have a kid by twenty-five, like my dad. I'm turning twenty-seven in a week.

And I guess that's beside the point too. I was talking to my friend Melissa today and we fleetingly mused upon this exact thought. Everyone says it, but we don't know what we've got coming our way. Even my mom--well shit, lemme back up a sec. I was over at her house helping her go through some boxes and we came across a bunch of stuff I had when I was in college. So she goes, "Ton, I just thought you'd have done something by now, like written a screenplay or a book or something." I was like, whoa Ma. You should probably tip toe around the shards of my broken dreams. I don't want you to get any splinters or anything. Jesus.

Back to cigarettes and wedding bands. Yeah, I went to a girl's wedding that I once had feelings for. It wasn't weird. Feelings are only feelings when you feel them. Otherwise they'd be called Felts or something. I don't know. They go away. Or maybe they just stay where they were. In the same place, in the same spec of time that they came from. I wouldn't go so far as to say that you can't take some feelings with you, that's why we record stuff. But those are just photos and videos and books and letters and smells and songs, they're something that replicates the feeling, like a clone. And maybe in the same way when you make a copy of a copy of a copy, those feelings lose a bit of the luster of their originality.

We live and die with these records. And for a moment I was beginning to think that maybe we weren't really meant to have them. Like, fuckin' pop songs and romcoms, the things that rosey up the world with happy endings and ever afters, the records we keep tend to lean toward the parts we liked best and therefore hold with a little bit more favor than we should...maybe.

But maybe not. Who knows what makes sense. It's 4:30 in the morning and I have to wake up in five hours. Maybe we're meant to keep those feelings. Build on them. Maybe not and we just do it anyway, using them for foundations of who we are and who we're going to eventually become. Maybe I'm suppressing them or maybe I'm just full of shit.

so I wrote a song. It's called between.

I Guess I Have A Thing For Lesbians

Ellen Page specifically. I was talking to my buddy, Darrell, the other day and we were in a bit of a disagreement over this exact topic. Well, yeah, word on the street E. Page doesn't like The Peen. I don't want to start any sleazy rumors in the event that I'm wrong. But whatevs, the point is I think she's a stone cold fox. The basis? It isn't Juno, I can tell you that right now. It might be Inception, because I wanted to bone her even then (and that was what D and I were discussing which kinda started this whole thing). Those Cisco comercials? Maybe. However, I caught this on CineMAX today:




It's not as bad as you're thinking it probably is right now. It's good. Hella surprisingly. It's well directed by D. Barrymore for her first time doing it (heh). There's good music, Clap Your Hands Say Yeah, Little Joy, MGMT and this whole scene with Ellen Page swimming around in her underwear.

Other awesome things worth noting:
-Fuckin' Maeby from Arrested Development plays the best friend! And she's kinda hot, too.
-The Dad is Marv from Home Alone

-Marcia Gay Harden, she's all right.

-Oh yeah! Jimmy Fuckin' Fallon's in it as the roller derby announcer, and he's pretty funny: "Black Widows, my spidey-sense is tingling! ...I think I'm about to make a sequel ...in my pants!"

-Juliette Lewis rocks a fuckin' sweet lightning bolt tattoo on her arm.

-Just watch the fucking movie.

And she's Canadian. Nova Fuckin' Scotia.

Shorts 1.1.8.17.10

Outside the Milky Way Galaxy.
500 years from now.

“You ever get lonely, Ship?”
“I’m not sure I understand the question, Captain. Can you be more specific?”
“Well uh, being alone; the only one of your kind around. Don’t you wish—Fuck it. Nah. Never mind."

The Captain shakes his head and pushes away from the window he was leaning on.

"You know what’s weird? How absolutely lonely you can get out in space.”
“I’m sorry, Captain. Is there something you would like me to do?”
“Sorry? No, you’re not. If you aren’t affected by this absolute isolation, then you certainty don’t feel sorrow.”
“…Captain, I don’t—“
“Save it, Ship." The Captain pauses, feels bad. "I’m sorry for yelling at you. Initiate landing sequence Alpha.”
“Aye, Captain. What is our destination?”
“We’ve arrived. Land us at the nearest planet.”
“Roger, we’re approaching Cleyreon City, on the North Eastern Hemisphere of the planet Aoqiwh. Atmosphere is gaseous and cloudy, non sustainable for human existence.”
“What is anymore?”
“Our mission, Captain?”
“Fuel, supplies, …any other necessity I deem necessary to continue to perform our sworn duty.”

Through a perpetually cloudy and overcast horizon imbued with a sort of permanent sunset, the ship descends onto a dusty orange launch pad that billows out tuffs of thick, smoky dust as it lands and exhales with a wispy mechanical sigh.

The Captain exits out of the craft wearing a metallicy-looking suit equipped with a breathing apparatus. He walks cautiously toward a weathered and rusty-looking iron hatch. The cloudy horizon periodically disperses, revealing fleeting glimpses of similar looking hatches. The Captain opens and enters his hatch. He closes it behind him and is momentarily enveloped in darkness. We hear a heavy latch being moved and suddenly the interior is filled with deep, pure spectrum light. The Captain blinks, shakes his head and squints as he walks down the bright corridor toward an airlock. He enters and hits the one palm-sized blue button on the transparent-glassed wall. Suddenly, the walls turn to opaque white. A warm, female voice speaks.

“We have scanned you and your DNA indicates you are human. Welcome to Cleyreon City. If you prefer another language, please indicate the one you desire at anytime.”
“So far, so good.”
“Please state your name, origin, and purpose of visit.”
“I originate from Earth by way of Mars. My name is Captain Hardy and I am here to party.”
“Access granted. Welcome back, Captain Hardy.”
“Heh. Thank you, Computer.”

The Captain opens the door and enters. From inside music blares. The lighting is dim and there are scattered humans/humanoids, but mostly aliens and a few mixes. The Captain sits down, while avoiding eye contact and orders a drink. As the Captain takes off his breathing parts, he purposefully deactivates a glowing indicator on his wrist. The bartender, or whatever he's called here, brings a few canister-like things and the Captain goes to work unscrewing and mixing them. The Captain mentions something to him about refueling and restocking the ship. This isn't just a bar, it's an outpost. The Captain says a few more things and the bartender nods then walks off. The Captain closes his eye, tilts back and exhales. After a pause, he bursts back up suddenly and shouts out, "And SMOKES!" Then goes back to relaxing. Too heavily, and is startled by the touch of someone poking his shoulder. The Captain grabs the arm quickly but there is no danger. Her, or its name is Erin.

"You're looking great, sweetheart." The Captain looks back at his unfinished drink and then back to her.
"Thanks. Upgrade. You look like shit."
"That's funny because I feel incredible."
"Really?"
The Captain forgets sarcasm rarely works on robots.
"Heh. No."
"Still going by Captain Hardy here, are we?"
"'Why waste a good fake name,' my grandfather always said."
"Well, are you going to offer me a drink?"
"No. Why would I do that?"
"I don't know, your type usually does. I think it's an ingrained behavior."
"Nope. Not today anyway."
"Then shall we?"
"I'm in no rush." The Captain pauses and looks directly at her eyes. "Damn, you--"
"Look familiar, I know. This is how this place works, remember?"
"No, I don't. Please enlighten me."
"I look like this because we scanned you and this was the ideal imagine that you found most attractive."
"I see. I had forgotten that."
"No you didn't."
"If you can read my mind, then do it."
The android looks dead as she stares at the Captain, if only for a few seconds. She stands up and directs the Captain to a new portion of the bar. As they walk together, Erin speaks.
"I cannot read your mind. I cannot predict the future or tell you the past."
"What if I said I think you can."
"It wouldn't be an accurate statement. But I feel sorry for you. You desire to treat me like a girl you once knew. And according to your log, it has been this way for the last eight years."
"You're good, robot. Manipulating me like that. Almost worked."
The Captain stops walking and grabs her arm. He tucks what looks like a ray-gun against her side."Yeah, you got something right: you can't predict the future. Nobody can do that. But if you tell me again that you can't tell me the past... well then I'm going to have to kill you, kill your creator, kill your creator's pets and everything else I fucking see in between."
"...So, I will take you to see him?"
"Now we're talking."
The barkeep is standing behind them, awkwardly pretending not to notice any trouble. "Uh, did you still want the tobacco?"
The Captain looks at him through the corner of his eye, almost angry. "Yeah. Put 'em on the table."

Cigarettes and Wedding Bands

Actually, nevermind. I don't want to talk about it. Maybe tomorrow or next week.

Instead, I'll share my recent emailings. To myself apparently.

---------- Forwarded message ----------
From: Future AnthonyLuckino
Date: Thu, Aug 5, 2010 at 7:10 PM
Subject: I don't have much time
To: anthony.luckino@gmail.com


This is future you Anthony, and yes you have an excellent beard.

I can't explain everything right now, but you must do these things as soon as possible. The fate of the world is dependent upon it!

1. Buy, know, and love Donna Summers' music. It turns out she becomes dictator of post apocalyptic world.

2. Move to Ames, Iowa. Buy a house next to the large garden gnome.

3. Dye your hair anything but red. Gingers are heavily scrutinized in the future.

- Future Anthony.

---------- Forwarded message ----------
From: Future AnthonyLuckino
Date: Sat, Aug 7, 2010 at 12:52 AM
Subject: Fwd: I don't have much time
To: anthony.luckino@gmail.com

Current Anthony!

Whatever you do, do not get on the plane this Sunday. You will meet a small child who leads the robots in post apocalyptic war, she must not know who you are.

-Future Anthony

PS: I me love you yourself and we concur.

PSS: You are the fastest you will ever be, forever, right now.

PSSS: Run.

---------- Forwarded message ----------
From: Anthony Luckino
Date: Wed, Aug 11, 2010 at 1:16 AM
Subject: Re: I don't have much time
To: Future AnthonyLuckino

Dear Future Me (who technically is now actually Current Me, making me Past Me, but let's not think about it too much),

I hope the time-warp/stargate/wormhole hasn't closed just yet (maybe you have a sweet flux-capacitor app on the new thing that evolved from the iPhone that you use to communicate with). I have exactly six questions for you (one of which is a two-parter). Maybe you can answer them if I'm not too much of an asshole in the Future.

1. Who is the current President?

2. How smokin' hot is my/our wife? (Two-parter) Is her name Natalie Portman?

3. I know I'm rich, but exactly how many Ferraris do I/we/us own?
4. If I complete all the tasks you've set before me, will you send me a pic of myour excellent beard for my facebook profile? And the word myour isn't a typo. I just invented it, which you should haven already known, being from the future and all.

5. Exactly how well is your liver holding up? Be honest or I will get a tattoo on my forehead that'll say Future Anthony is an Idiot when reflected in a mirror.

6. Can you send me a copy of Gray's Sports Almanac from 8/11/10 to your current date? Don't let anybody named Biff see it.

Jetpacks and hoverboards,

Current/Past Anthony

Awesome Just Exploded All Over Your Face, You Just Don't Know It Yet

PS3 Games - E3 2011 - DC Universe Online

Listen to Me and Listen to Me Carefully

"Listen to me and listen to me carefully. We buy a lobster boat. Trick it out streamline it and Rig it with a mast, sails, and a titanium steel rudder. We clip the stern with high powered ambition and pinch the starboard with lofty dreams. We set off for greatness and we don't look back until we shoot off the edge of the earth and only then do we look back and tell those motherfuckersr we love em but if we stuck around no one would realize we could skim like so"

-L. Martinez
Verbatim message. Sent Sat, Nov 28, 2009 at 6:32 AM.

Never Let Me Go

Here's a trailer for a film coming out one day: http://trailers.apple.com/trailers/fox_searchlight/neverletmego/

From what I can tell, it centers around a normal early turn of the century english boarding school. Only there's these weird little technological things like wrist implants that the kids scan on every door frame they walk by.

\\Well it looks intense. You know what? Fuck it. I wikipediaed it here: http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Never_Let_Me_Go. Don't read it if you don't like spoilers. Do if you do.

It's about clones and the the terrible realization of being one, specifically used for harvesting organs. The movie looks intense and now that I told you that, watch it again and just feel the pain. I don't think I'll read the book. Books like that, like Virginia Woolf's The Waves is just the most depressing shit. Talk about wanting to smoke a cigarette. It just makes me... I don't know what.

It's like there's all this noise. Actually, right now it's pretty quiet in my room at 2am. but the hum of my laptop, the wisps of cars in the distance moving by, the fan of my neighbor's AC unit. All this noise. All of it can be cut off in a split second. Just hit the switch and it's off. The things we take for granted, I think, are the things that are the most important. Those hums and whispers. Breaths and heartbeats, distant trains rolling by and clock ticks. This film trailer reminded me that anybody can turn off the switch on anybody else at any time. And that's scary. because you don't know when that's a-gonna be. and you don't know what happens afterward. Maybe you don't think it was enough time. Will that even matter at all? You hit the switch and it's off. Nobody cares about off switches because we're all busy caring about the on ones.

That's the truth.

Fuck Toy Story 3, Man.

It bummed me the hell out. Uh, spoiler alert? It's the bookend to the Toy Stories and it's about with toys going to like, toy-retirement and even at one point dealing with all the deep feelings that come with the end-all oblivion. I mean, what the fuck, Pixar? Movies are meant to be used a device for escapism . We watch movies to go someplace else and forget about the little nuances of life ie: aging, death, etc. We don't go there to have the idea implied that it's OK to just accept the uncomfortable inevitability of death. And the fact that they're showing this to kids just fucking depresses me.

What the fuck is with the entertainment industry right now? Fucking Toy Story 3, Up, Lost; all those shows are just bring me the fuck down.

Nobody else seems bothered by this. I want to see some kids movies showing alcoholism and drug abuse. Point out there's no Easter Bunny, Tooth Fairy, or Santa. Tell them all of their dreams probably have a 96% chance of not coming true. Tell 'em it don't matter because you're just gonna kick the bucket anyway. Take it as far as you will. Why pick and choose? Why lie about anything at all? First the window and then it's to the wall.

I guess it just bugs me to have people tell me (or anybody) that it's okay to die just because we know it's going to happen one day. You know why I think people smoke cigarettes? Not because they actively want to kill themselves, but because deep down they know they're all ready dead and doing something blatantly bad to themselves, they know that they are, in fact, still alive.

I think I just dissected the point of this entire blog (see title). Congrats if you made it this far.

Top Five Magazines to Read While Pooping.

1. Esquire

-mostly quick articles like Things I've Learned (awesome); Funny Joke by a Beautiful Woman (usually awesome); and good interviewers.

2. Paste Magazine

-the reviews are good and make me feel like I still got it going on with the hip indie crowd. They're still called the indie crowd right? Not hipsters. I fucking hate hipsters.

3. Wired Magazine

-the short articles are great, informative, and sometimes funny. I love a good laugh while on the can. But mostly long informative articles.

4. ...I don't really have a fourth. maybe that one GQ issue with January Jones on it. That one's good. Yeah, that's the fourth.

5. People Magazine. My mom gives me her old issues. I like the pictures. You shut up.

Still Awake

Watching Gangs of New York. And let me tell ya, not a short movie.

Hey, you know what's great? Vernors Pop. It's super great. It reminds me of when I grew up in Canada. Before you say anything, yeah, I know it's made in Michigan. Still reminds me of Canada. Some people call in Detroit River Water. Maybe that's the secret ingredient.

Never heard of it!? Well I'll be! It's in a fancy ginger ale section of your local super market. and you can even read more here.

Ima watch this movie, smoke a cigarette, drink the rest of this can of Vernors, and dream of light and lofty clouds of happiness.

Grow Grow Grow

I used to stay up so late when I was seventeen. 1, 2, 3am, it was no big deal. I'd wake up the next morning at 8 with breaking a sweat. Then college, I'd stay up that late, only that usually assisted with some sort of drug. Post-college, sleeping became this huuuge luxury. I would crash starting around 11pm and then struggle to wake up by 9. Now I'm 26 and sleeping is the greatest thing in the world, but I can't get there until 2, maybe 3. Then waking up? Forget about it. If I didn't work for family, I'd be fucked. Waking up before 11 = impossible.

Sorry about the blog enthusiasm

But I'm up late tonight and Unforgiven is on amc. And lemme tell you, what a fine film it is. If you haven't seen it, welp... I don't forgive you. But you should watch it. Find some time.

Do it.

I'm telling you, you won't regret it.

You're not going to watch it are you?

Well okay, in that case below is the the climatic end scene of the whole thing! I just saved you like, 100 minutes of life and then enriched 3 of them! All at the same time, baby.

Enjoy.

Bolts and Smokes, huh?

Interesting name, I s'pose. Wouldn't attach too much to a name though. It's my experience that names can stand for any number of things, and sometimes they evolve to mean something completely different than what it started off as.

So in turn, this blog is about many different things. Some of these things may pertain to the music I've heard and might recommend to you. Maybe it'll be a place to discuss the television shows I love that not many other people seem to have ever seen (Chuck? Community? Anybody?). It might have something to do about my craaazy weekends (they're usually worth a short minute or two entertainment). It might be a short story. Maybe a movie review.

Who knows?

With my lightning bolts a glowin' I can see where I am goin'.

Right, David Bowie?