Hannibal.
A few months ago, a bunch of us were in a car wreck. (A bunch of us consisting of me, my brother, my mother, Erin, Milla, and Nikki.) Ever since then, I have had a lot of back problems.
This weekend I must have slept funny or something, because when I woke up on Saturday, I could barely roll out of bed. I managed to get to the couch downstairs, where I dosed myself on painkillers and slept most of the day. I went to bed at ten.
I woke up the next day at noon, stumbled downstairs, where I lay down in the sarcophagus-like groove I had created for myself the day previous. I downed a painkiller and wrote a letter to Jory (luckily before it completely kicked in), and then I settled down for an afternoon of movie-watching. Hannibal was on. I, evidently, was not thinking very clearly, because I decided that today was the day that I would finally brave this particular film. (Apparently painkillers make for much medicated bravery. I would suggest not picking a fight with me when I am on forms of hydrocodone.)
I dozed hazily through most of the movie, and I can remember a few things. I know that I didn't make up the part where Ray Liotta ate his own brain... because I remember Jeremy telling me about that forever ago... but I'm serious here. Did the boars really eat that guy's face? Was that guy's face really that messed up? And omg was that really Gary Oldman? He is my hero. But... did I make up the part where they went to the opera? Did Lecter totally eviscerate that guy and then hang him? Doesn't that seem redundant? Did the boars really eat that guy's face?
I did not make this stuff up. I am not this twisted and macabre. You have to help me believe this. Thomas Harris is such a sick bastard.
This weekend I must have slept funny or something, because when I woke up on Saturday, I could barely roll out of bed. I managed to get to the couch downstairs, where I dosed myself on painkillers and slept most of the day. I went to bed at ten.
I woke up the next day at noon, stumbled downstairs, where I lay down in the sarcophagus-like groove I had created for myself the day previous. I downed a painkiller and wrote a letter to Jory (luckily before it completely kicked in), and then I settled down for an afternoon of movie-watching. Hannibal was on. I, evidently, was not thinking very clearly, because I decided that today was the day that I would finally brave this particular film. (Apparently painkillers make for much medicated bravery. I would suggest not picking a fight with me when I am on forms of hydrocodone.)
I dozed hazily through most of the movie, and I can remember a few things. I know that I didn't make up the part where Ray Liotta ate his own brain... because I remember Jeremy telling me about that forever ago... but I'm serious here. Did the boars really eat that guy's face? Was that guy's face really that messed up? And omg was that really Gary Oldman? He is my hero. But... did I make up the part where they went to the opera? Did Lecter totally eviscerate that guy and then hang him? Doesn't that seem redundant? Did the boars really eat that guy's face?
I did not make this stuff up. I am not this twisted and macabre. You have to help me believe this. Thomas Harris is such a sick bastard.
2 Comments:
Now, my first question is... why? You know this guy writes this crap, you know from someone else that the movie contains this crap - why watch it? It can't be uplifting even if it does have a Scooby Do/Hollywood ending (which I doubt it does).
Just something I don't understand, I guess. Which is why I watch something like 'Brazil' instead... :D
Jeremy says he thinks yes, yes the boars ate that guys face, LoL
It's been awhile since he's seen it :)
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