Posts Tagged ‘insane

16
Aug
12

The Trippiest Movies Ever Made

Trippy sheeitI’m a sucker for movie scenes that are uncomfortably trippy. The kind where you know, without a shadow of a doubt, that whoever wrote them was either very, very high on drugs or batshit crazy.

I like them because there is so much safe material out there that I start craving something, anything, that pushes the boundaries.

What you’re about to see is three and a half minutes of exactly that. Scenes that could be straight out of a dream / nightmare / drug induced hallucination of brain-melting proportions. So fire up the bong and let’s get to it shall we?

 

 

In case you were wandering, here’s a list of all those movies so you can rent them and never be the same ever again.

Films (in order of appearance):

The Trip (1967, Roger Corman),
Head (1968, Bob Rafelson),
Glaze of Cathexis
(1990, Stan Brakhage),
Allegro Non Troppo (1976, Bruno Bozzetto),
Natural Born Killers (1994, Oliver Stone),
Fantasia
(1940, Armstrong, Algar, et. al),
2001: A Space Odyssey
(1968, Stanley Kubrick),
Viva La Muerte
(1971, Fernando Arrabal),
The Holy Mountain
(1973, Alejandro Jodorowsky),
Performance
(1970, Donald Cammell and Nicholas Roeg),
Videodrome
(1983, David Cronenberg),
Dark City
(1998, Alex Proyas),
Belle De Jour
(1967, Luis Buñuel),
Eraserhead
(1977, David Lynch),
El Topo
(1970, Alejandro Jodorowsky),
Tetsouro, the Iron Man
(1989, Shin’ya Tsukamoto),
Inland Empire
(2006, David Lynch),
Dead Alive
(1992, Peter Jackson),
Waking Life
(2001, Richard Linklater),
Anchorman
(2004, Adam McKay),
Mulholland Dr.
(2001, David Lynch),
Un Chien Andalou
(1929, Luis Buñuel),
Requiem for a Dream
(2000, Darren Aronofsky),
Lost Highway
(1997, David Lynch),
Pi
(1998, Darren Aronofsky),
Easy Rider
(1969, Dennis Hopper),
The Big Lebowski
(1998, Joel Coen),
Naked Lunch
(1991, David Cronenberg),
Skidoo
(1968, Otto Preminger),
Being John Malkovich
(1999, Spike Jonze).

-ST

18
Nov
10

The Culprits!

If you read this blog regularly (seek help) you might have stumbled on the post I wrote awhile back about how living in the shit shack J-Rab and I have ended up in is driving us completely nuts.

Well, a big part of that were the owls. Right outside our wooden shed were a pair of Spotted Eagle Owls that would hoot, loud as fuck, all through the night until J-Rab and I were driven totally shit-your-pants mad.

Eventually we resorted to standing on our balcony at 2 in the morning and trying to pelt the fuckers with onions because that’s all we could find to throw.

Good thing we don’t have neighbours because trust me, if they had to see me at 2 in the morning, carrying on like an asylum escapee on our balcony, firing onions into the darkness whilst screaming, “FUCK YOU OWL!” they’d definitely call the police.

Anyway, turns out the little bastards were hooting incessantly because they had babies.

Imagine my excitement. MORE fucking owls.

Here’s a pic I snapped of momma owl with baby owl standing in front of her, staring at me with this arrogant “that’s right, I’ma keep you up ALL NIGHT, BITCH!” look on his face.

 

 

In my mind I quietly reached for a 9ml under my seat, took aim and laughed maniacally as both owls exploded in a cloud of brown / black feathers.

And I used to be such a nice guy.

-ST