I've seen it twice now. The moments that hit hard hit harder the second time around. And the respect bleeds across the film, with a jam-packed plot threaded skillfully across the rich story amidst its lived-in characters. Not everything works like gangbusters, but these quibbles shrink with time.

Yes, I pulverized the charred remains of this gentle, innocent coconut and turned it into an unsettlingly-graphic topping to my morning yogurts. And you know what? That fucking thing needs some honey or peanut butter or what, because it kinda doesn't work. Coconut ash! Seriously.

Goddammit, oven.

It still blows my mind that The Substance - a terrific but bonkers film - found such mainstream awards success. This has made it a fun recommendation for friends looking for something interesting... w/ that body horror caveat. 😬 Because DAMN that's some body horror. Cronenberg would be proud.

Then, as if on a bender, I'm leveled by the stupor. I imagine taking a nap beneath the piano while social games materialize. I lose my ability to form coherent sentences. Dehydration kicks in, hallucinations, voices. Then, clarity. Rebirth. Decisiveness. Farts.

Chili #6 won, by the way. Deserving.

I pet the ever-loving heck outta that floofy, floofy girl. The floofiest! She leaned into my legs, splatted upon the damp sidewalk, lolled her tongue out of her doofy mouth. And kept on floofin'.

Hours later, I finally stopped petting the dog and realized I no longer needed coffee. Happy New Year!

So yeah, I need to get a new "stylus" for the record player. :/

Deuxbers in this instance.

The exasperated sighs take the lead.

Do you just want to scream...helloooooooo???

Whic-i Whic-i Wild! Whic-i Wild! Whic-i Whic-i Wild Wild West! #BigWhiciStyle

...Now *that's* some content.