14TH APR 2015 IN MISC
BY QUEEN MOB
TAGS: SIGHT UNSEEN
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HAPPINESS 2
In a reversal of form I’m paying dogs to cum in my mouth. And before, with Happiness,
I’d had such a nice time. But I’m still hopeful, if inert. I deserve to feel better than this is
what accentuates how bad things will get. The problem’s me, but then I am most people,
after all: so beautiful and pretty special, it seems. It almost makes me want to learn how
to emote. I appreciate art, but these people aren’t happy enough. They’re acting for me
like they know they’re going to die. I’m refusing to transmit that shit. I won’t be tied up
and pumped full of this film’s fake joy. I’m so happy I’d bore a stranger bent double with
loneliness. You couldn’t even pronounce how happy I am. I find everyone in this sequel
attractive to the point of gargolyesque. The film is so quiet I check the mute function
has not been enabled by mistake. All the actors are oblivious to how little noise euphoria
makes. Even telephone conversations are conducted in gestures. My hands say, “Die,
harbingers of joy! Die!” But then the lack of all trace of hostility gets to be unnerving.
And they eat red meat for good thoughts, and even the animals they end to get it smile
at the bolt that kills them. But halfway in there’s a mood change. The children do not
hold hands. Skin starts to fall off the necks and faces of the most beatific. All the single
women get married, and murder their husbands within two to three minutes. From this
point on every doomed relationship is a fresh start. The entire cast break the fourth wall
to make me promise to kill myself at the end. It’s for the best they say because reality is
shit. If I have any sense of decency I’m to take my family with me, place all my copies of
Boy’s Life in a trust fund for depressed animals. Joy has a phone number, but it changes
all the time. I’m too lazy to accept we’re all alone. And if there’s any point, why so
secretive? I can’t help playing with myself in an effort to be normal. Mass suicide in a
Barnes & Noble, and a woman from down the hall at my door. I’m just trying to smell
what you’re wearing. Is your pussy all bludgeoned to death? I’m gonna lie down like a
bastard. I’m gonna need a fucking face-lift just to wake up. Some schmuck is building
sex dolls from macrame in a motel. He’s tall and hunched. His eyes are rotting in hell.
Listening’s just needy. The cause of my depression is a fucking spaz. He sleeps over and
keeps me awake. Tells me all women stink of tuna and conks out. His relationship with
the producer is very kissy-kissy. It’s my fault, really: who talks of love when they’re
humping a chair? The deceit, the corruption, it’s all so girlish, so concentration camps in
America. When I forget my name, my name is Joy. Happiness 2 is a black hole seen
through a peephole. I type that into my computer. That and other wonderful things that
go bad and rot. I liquidate because I care. I throw up on my friend’s excuse for a
personality because it’s there. Happiness sticks to me like dirt. I need to take a bath. In
the refrigerator I’m sorry for the animals. Fuck the cunt of Jesus. Like I don’t like
lesbians. I was a thief singing machine washable love songs. I guess I’m lucky I’m so fat
and ugly. Why would I make something like that up? Tom Cruise once had a funny
feeling and it was horrible, just horrible. Anyway, so then I had to cut up his body, plastic
bag the bits. I’ve had the morgue on redial all night. I cannot disguise my
disappointment. Life is not my type. I can’t sleep, the sofa has tumours. It’s supposed to
rain tomorrow and I can’t breathe. I stayed home forever. The doorbell rings again.
You’re so cool, I say. I couldn’t help myself. I jerk off instead of asking for forgiveness.
Shhh! Quiet! I am in America! I am free and money is only money. The genitals come
washed in baggies. I’m looking where there’s life for something to hope. I’m not laughing.
Happiness is a pervert. Happy’s no good.
gary new gif
editor’s note: this post is part of our Sight Unseen series in which people
review movies or they have NOT seen or read. Guidelines for submitting to
Sight Unseen can be found here
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