"And after three days, Jay Gatsby came back from the dead"

This time, I've been assigned with something interesting to say the least, I have to relate Jay Gatsby, one of the main characters from Scott Fitzgerald's "The Great Gatsby" to a character I find somewhat similar to the charming bootlegger. After some thinking, I think I've come to an answer: Jesus (Refer to the picture if you don't know who this peculiar guy is).

I just can't help it. I don't know if it's the charming face telling you "C'mon! You what I'm saying is true!" even when you know it's not, or his wonderful tunic fluttering with the the autumn winds. He's just as deceiving as Gatsby. And I don't mean it in a wrong way, but I do think that there are two sides of the story. Jay Gatsby, the captivating gentleman with the eye-catching suits, who under this fascinating facade he's a dweller of the underground, a bootlegger, a king of the black market. He's got to faces, yet even when having both his -soul- is not corrupted by his bootlegging persona, he's still a pretty nice fellow.

On the other side, we see Jesus. (I'm not trying to challenge or offend any belief, but I'm going to be frank and outspoken with what I feel). I've never quite trusted the 2000 year old dusty book which lies unopened in the entrance of innumerable houses, yet I've grown in an incisive catholic community and I've had to open it more than a couple of times. Written in its pages I can only see a Jesus which in representation of his father's telling us we're actually all guilty of bad deeds (Sins) and that should we not repent we are going to suffer the eternal flames of hell. He does pray for us while being up in the cross, but in the end we're still under the burden of having to guide our life for the sake of not suffering eternal pain instead of doing it because we actually believe in it. It's a simple disgusting threat. Even newborns should repent as even they are under the so called -original sin-. And having to thank him for every good thing I do is also pretty annoying, I believe one should be auto sufficient and praise oneself for each goal you achieve; the belief that everything good we do is part of godly machinations just takes away the value from what you and others've done.This is, in a very tight nutshell, the bad face of it, at least the bad face I've always seen and which's drove me away of his followers. But the good news is that there's another face! A much more friendly and happy face, which invites me into his creed whenever I see him, who with open arms gives me way to heaven. I believe the image of Jesus is just as deceiving as the image of Gatsby, they are both good looking, enthralling and charming, yet when you see down the drain they might not be as nice.

I wish I was Salvador Dali. (Midnight in Paris)

Oh Dear! Midnight! And a Rhinoceros! It's it very pretty I can assure. Why you ask? Well, I've been thinking about Rhinoceros lately, during midnight if I can add, and let me tell you: It is lovely. It's very lovely, just like melting faces over another face, which is accentuating the meltdown of yet another face, over the horn of a rhinoceros, which was staring directly into the eyes of the first said face just before it started melting. It's as lovely as it is complex; lovely complexity dare I say. And just the other day I stumbled into a most curious man! Gil Pender I believe he was named! He was as a man from the future, just like me! He also resembled a Rhinoceros; he was the fountain of my tumbling thoughts about horned meltdowns, but I digress, back to the Rhinoceros.

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I was asked to do a first person journal for a character from "Midnight in Paris" from Woody Allen, which is also remarkably incredible. I chose the fascinating Salvador Dali, which Gil encounters in a restaurant.

Celebrate.

The uncorking of the bottle roared through the room. He jumped and danced and jumped again. He screamed and laughed and screamed again. He drank the champagne, swallowed the pill and blithely died. In his cell, he had laughed, screamed and jumped. He'd finally earned his freedom, and with a gulp of champagne he'd celebrate, with blissful tears, the magical evening of the event. Oh death! Delicious death! Ecstatic death! You come to us like a drink of champagne! We relish upon you with rapture and mirth, and finally smile, with shining eyes, as you untie the bowline of our delusive soul and eat it with pleasure, just like we drank yours.

"If you were on the 20's, would you like to dream in America?"

Do the 20’s represent the success or failure of the American Dream? I’d dare say not the success or failure of the American Dream, but rather it standardizes the modern version of it. A dream which relied, in the 20’s, in having a nice apartment down town, a nice vehicle, being able to wear some very classy hat and suit and above all, living in the ever so mighty United States, where freedom reigned. Nowadays, for the average foreigner, this dream has mutated to consists of having a white-fenced two storey house, 3.5 children, a cat and a dog, a minivan or sport vehicle to ride the kids to school, spare money to go drink some beers with your friends around once a week and being able to get dead drunk once a month without having to get worried about what people might say. Pure freedom, no questions asked. Ironically enough, the 20’s American dream, being thought as the utmost of freedom, was redefined during an era of racism, alcohol prohibition and an undercover misogyny which looked down at the flappers, and woman overall. It's funny to think how things change; life's a bitch.

Hover.

Two birds flew around it, deafened by the loud buzz coming from the engines. It was a big zeppelin that hovered over the castle, and down, in the middle of the town plaza, the children gathered and waved at it.  It flew towards the horizon, being welcomed by the setting sun, who casting alluring waves of pink and orange to the clouds, gave way to the magical circus of colors, whose jugglers and trapezists waved, just as the children did, to the big old zeppelin flying atop their brows.

Clipped.

He was driving down the clouds. Damn it was cold! He was running late for work, and he had barely eaten any stars for breakfast. He sped up. Passed a bird on 77th. Kept going. Passed a big big black could on 123rd. He kept going. He then remembered he had forgotten to put on his seat belt. "God and all, but I still forget this thing!" he said as he reached down for the clip. He didn't notice; a big airplane was coming. He crashed directly into it. He died.

"I really hope there's whiskey in heaven"

Ugh. Had to do a video for school. It's about the 20's ban on alcohol. I decided it'd be much more fun to play a rambling dead "drunk" man going against the ban. I'm sorry if any sensitive soul out there is offended, it's not the purpose of the video. Also, I think I was not drunk and I know I suck at playing drunk people.

Couldn't get the YouTube tool to work, so here's the link: I Hope There's Whiskey on Heaven

Sponge.

"I really feel like I should wash myself tonight. And by that I mean get into the shower. This week's been a bitch so it might as well help rather than make it worse. Hmm. Maybe I should jump. Yes? Yes. I guess the window's got a pretty nice view. I wonder if it looks even better from the outside. Yeah. I'll definitely jump. Hmm. But first, the shower, then I'll kill myself."