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Pastimes : Don't Ask Rambi -- Ignore unavailable to you. Want to Upgrade?

To: Rambi who wrote (18418)	3/5/1999 1:50:00 PM
From: Ish	Respond to of 71178

<<I seem to have a thing for movies with vomiting scenes.>> I remember reading an interview with Elmore Leonard, the writer. He said during his drinking years he always took two Bloody Marys to bed for in the morning. First thing in the morning he would chug one and run into the bathroom and vomit. The tomato juice disguised the blood in the vomit, the second Bloody Mary was to settle his stomach. He used that in a book also, writing from experience.

To: Rambi who wrote (18418)	3/5/1999 4:07:00 PM
From: Gauguin	Read Replies (2) \| Respond to of 71178

(This post rated BUMMER) ~ This next is a uhm bummer Penni, but I feel like "sharing" it (you can skip it). (Well, of course you won't now.) I think it was earlier this fall while the weather was still OK, MJ and I went out for a drive into the green countryside to some other backroads and small towns around here to spend a couple days. (It's those car rides we were talking about where "we find ourselves entertaining.") Stand By Me was filmed in one of these places, by coincidence. I think it's a Rob Reiner. I wasn't thinking about that, but I picked up the paper at the cafe, and there was a long article about a girl who had just been killed on a trestle over a river. It's a shortcut home the kids' parents tell them not to take. The article said the train was doing 70 miles an hour. That's a lot; not that it matters. I remember once stepping onto a trestle bridge as a kid and becoming very afraid. Like I needed any help with that rate-distance-time problem. She was (don't trust my recall, I just recall this) a bit of a mystery girl. She had just moved to the small town, with her mother or something; and in a small town school that was an event, of course. Kids coming in are usually bad-asser than small town kids, around here anyway; but she had made a real impression as a very nice kid, that everyone liked, in a short time. I shouldn't pick up the paper. I usually don't. I got enough problems of my own, and that's what the paper is. It's the problem internet, the daily book of problems, in case you need more or forgot yesterdays, all written down and concentrated there and brilliantly encoded and photographed so you can understand it. Just pick it up, and start feeling bad. I then remembered the scene in Stand By Me where the kids are caught on the trestle. It's identical. Only she didn't make it. I admit that scene scared the shit out of me, even though I knew the outcome because I ain't no film-making stupid. Ties are impossible to pace. Running for your life, that must be particularly frustrating. I don't remember if the engineers saw her or not. Obviously blowing the horn, unless they could blow you off the bridge, would just add to the excitement. I'm "interested" in the ways people die, because I feel it like me. Something tells me (I have honestly no idea what) that the bizarre and horrible ways people die are all my deaths. I don't consider myself "morbid." Just a panoplistic observer. A film cannister in part of my mental hard drive is filled with that girl's death. With what happened to her. For me, it is important to think about what her last moments were like. It's knowledge gained. What does it tell. Sometimes death comes to get you with a vengeance. There is no gentle god of death. It's a roaring goddam train that traps and snuffs you on a bridge. It's a scaffold peeling off the top inside of a cooling tower as you run around to the last sections to fall. It's having your body re-code itself into tumors. Being hacked to death by the Tutsis. Boiling in a tank of pulp acid. A kid down the road walking into a school like MJ's and shooting people. This year one of her kids dad opened his head with a gun and another committed suicide aiming a rifle at cops. In the next town, five miles away, a man killed himself, his wife and children. Daddy pulled a hunting rifle on me. It's not so peaceful here. In some ways I think it's all paint over horror. So I let those things remind me, and I guess I let it make me feel superior and inferior to other people who seem to ignore it. "Sure, what else can you do." I don't know. Not be naive? What good does it do though? "He who made kittens, put snakes in the grass, dear." My instinct tells me this place is hell. What a "funny" joke it would be to have people saying you're going to go to hell, when unknown to everyone, we're already there. Can anyone prove it isn't so? By describing the nature of this place? Oooop ~ sun's out. Better go, or wait til April. "Why are you such an angry young man?" I will give you my seat cushion if you would like to float back to the surface now. I dislike this place. I don't trust it for a minute.