Saturday, April 30, 2011

Scott Lord Castle Film: The Mummy (1932)

Scott Lord Castle Film: The Mummy (1932)

Scott Lord Castle Film: The Mummy (1932)

Scott Lord Castle Film: The Mummy (1932)

Scott Lord Castle Film: The Mummy (1932)

Scott Lord Castle Film: The Mummy (1932)

Scott Lord Castle Film: The Mummy (1932)

Scott Lord Castle Film: The Mummy (1932)

Scott Lord Castle Film: The Mummy (1932)

Scott Lord Castle Film: The Mummy (1932)

Scott Lord Castle Film: The Mummy (1932)

Scott Lord Castle Film: Dracula

Scott Lord Castle Film: Dracula

Scott Lord Castle Film: Dracula

Scott Lord Castle Film: Dracula

Scott Lord Castle Film: Dracula

Scott Lord Castle Film: Dracula

Scott Lord Castle Film: Dracula

Scott Lord Castle Film: Dracula

Scott Lord Castle Film: Dracula

Scott Lord Castle Film: Dracula

Scott Lord Castle Film: Dracula

Rings of Saturn, Knight Open, Monday Night at the Museum (1973)



Yesterday, while I was having dinner I had a conversation with a stunning grad student from Radcliffe, (a or b cup, but tight jeans), so I decided to go to the Square this afternoon and be back in time to see the flowerchild that would be here. Her way of phrasing was instead of "They have them at Harvard, but I'm not involved", her grammar was "It happens".
(I was once in a discussion about a Harvard doctor with another doctor that was a little higher than him that knew I hoped to be a writer and he had said, "He can't read" in reference to the other doctor- you know I just thought of it but my responsibility was the word thermometer, as part of the comprehension level.)
My platonic female acquaintance was on the train and was the nicest she has ever been to me and gave it 'a nice to see you'.
I had a game of chess, but for the fun I opened with a knight, moved a pawn into board control and then got the knight backward left into the pawn's space. It gave me the queen to play queenplayer later. Without the clock, it was my fastest game, which was intended.
Different flowergirl, one that was decidedly taken.
Then I saw Saturn through a telescope- to be honest with you, the rings actually look blue. I didn't meet anyone there. New experiences on the same vista in order to write?






Scott Lord

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Scott Lord

Scott Lord

Scott Lord



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Scott Lord

Crimson Cult starring Boris Karloff and Christopher Lee | Horror | movies

Crimson Cult starring Boris Karloff and Christopher Lee | Horror | movies

I had a super eight regular eight projector and camera and collected Castle Film. In effect, I went to a different shopping center and brought home a non-Castle copy of The Crimson Cult black and white silent 150ft. The other Karloff's I had were Universal's, eg. The Son of Frankenstien, The House of Frankenstien, The Mummy.

I haven't had a copy of the film since and will try to screen it this weekend.

The Terror is a better film than thought and Die Monster Die is better than thought- both have very beautiful women in them.

Please enjoy The Crimson Cult if it is of any interest.

In a way, today I spoke to two women as beautiful as those that starred with Karloff. I was in the store looking for a shirt and a perfect young lady was looking at clothes, browsed for a minute or two longer than I thought she would be. Its possible we've noticed each other before, possible we haven't.She was still there, beneath a painting that read Boston MFA, so I asked if she knew who the painter was. So I spent the evening writing lyric to an instrumental concert I couldn't get out of- all I came up with was "dare I speak, hurry before she leaves, should i tremble faster- entering the perfect stillness".
Then, I went for cigarettes later and the athlete that is 'irresistably pretty' (and there are two if not three,but) was there, so I barrelled in and blurted, "Tattoos" and then "walked off real cool". She seemed like she was with a girlfriend for the evening. I could stare forever. So I made it look like she was busy and that I would be automaticly instantly available, but by dooing that I left out any way of asking her her name. Then she came over, like she did when I was lifting weights. (I've already referred to her as being beautiful in an earlier blog entry). Think a minute: I really did just walk past and say "tattoes", meaning that I not only remember who she was but that the first minute I ever see her again I don't mind telling her that while I was pumping weights I was looking at her curves. actually, its both, she's pretty and built.
I know- it was quick thinking, which is good, and she seemed to be pleased, we just didn't talk. I know- unorthodox, but I really have thought of her since and if I had let her slip through my fingers without confronting it, it wouldn't be how I really need to live. I'd rather her know. And I was suprised how femininely she reacted. Feminine, but after I had in effect intimated to her that she has me and there's no need to continue without my admitting it, meaning she has me no matter what she does next.
Did I say goodnight to anyone equally stunning? Not in so many words. I thought that the night was finished and- don't ask me how but very quietly as I was typing someone found me, but if I were to study her voice and put that together with goddess attributes, I am very glad that I asked the type of question I did. Not the most human-to-human question, but as someone older it did one thing by relating that I really would have appreciated the company- it was an is there anything I can do type question. Honestly, what was so sexually exciting about a damsel in distress other than her being articulate; she was shorter than then athlete, so there's no possible way to compare their bodies other than by saying sex symbols plural. I really don't know what she may have needed, but if you read my earlier blog entries it was a tough week to have the softest, I've describe it that way, things you could think of come near you, I'll word it casually. So not an exact good night, but you wouldn't know how much I literally appreciated being momentarily with them, each a different, but thrilling circumstance- I'm genuinely interested in who they are and where they're going and when I can talk to them again.

Haunting.

Lo.Ve
Scott

Scott Lord

Wednesday, April 27, 2011

Scott Lord Blackmail (Hitchcock, 1929)


Scott Lord Blackmail (Hitchcock, 1929)


Scott Lord Blackmail (Hitchcock, 1929)


Scott Lord Blackmail (Hitchcock, 1929)


Scott Lord Blackmail (Hitchcock, 1929)


Scott Lord Blackmail (Hitchcock, 1929)


Scott Lord Blackmail (Hitchcock, 1929)


Scott Lord Blackmail (Hitchcock, 1929)


Scott Lord Blackmail (Hitchcock, 1929)


Scott Lord Blackmail (Hitchcock, 1929)


Scott Lord Blackmail (Hitchcock, 1929)


Scott Lord Blackmail (Hitchcock, 1929)


Scott Lord Blackmail (Hitchcock, 1929)


Scott Lord Blackmail (Hitchcock, 1929)


Scott Lord Blackmail (Hitchcock, 1929)


Scott Lord Blackmail (Hitchcock, 1929)


Scott Lord Blackmail (Hitchcock, 1929)


Scott Lord Blackmail (Hitchcock, 1929)


Scott Lord Blackmail (Hitchcock, 1929)


Scott Lord Blackmail (Hitchcock, 1929)


Thursday, April 21, 2011

Bombshell-blog resumed.

Why I didn't have my photo online: I don't know who the joke is on, but obviously- my teeth. I found out today they have to go- I went for a cleaning and it was decided that after four cleanings its not worth the fifth.
My hair's ok, it went short to get rid of a hippie dreadlock and then long again because the winter was solitary and she styled it after getting rid of the dred; it'll be blonder with some sun. You can cut it. My eyes are blue; I prefer them that way. But the teeth went today- maybe all.
Ok, I my optometry was bothering me to the extent where I couldn't really make it, so I decided "stay cool", don't mellow out, but be thankful. Then the athletes go to me- I was sick and needed the company and there was just the right balance so that when I returned to the library and Harvard Square after months it was just right so that if there were two athletes I couldn't stop thinking about, and maybe a student or two, then it would be all that I could think about, meaning I really don't care what else is happening or who else is around, you'll be lucky if there are four things I can think about. What now? Apparently I don't think of every sex symbol, or athlete in the world constantly, nor do I have a bookstore where we meet infrequently to see what each other has been writing. Knock my socks off. but those two, and the two from the square are all I'm going to think about for a couple days. Believe me even more with two words: one volutptuous, the other svelte, neither too tall.
High minded intellectual things: these are errands that from necessity are in the same city as when I was married and I seriously need some coffee conversation before bringing my morose, yet grateful, solitude into them- like what so existentially serious about submerging a crossaint into the coffee after a lecture on meltdown and foreign war when all I really need is to read a little Thackery, Maugham and one or two not many people try, like Butterfield 8, for example, although I've already read O'Hara.
Funny universe sometimes, I added eleven Google silent film videos, and then within a week found out they'll be removed within a month.
Their bodies are are beautiful, Lord, her legs, and if she's not here in minutes it would make you think of the other and her figure and then back to the other and her legs. And then try to have a cigarette.
-----------------------------------
So the story was and is I'm sore- my whole body, too sore to lift my usual. So I tried three times to pump it and couldn't. Then she sat next to me- Lord she's beautiful, cute if that helps but pretty enough to scare you- by the way, I wouldn't interrupt me because you have to be eighteen in our state to get a tatoo. I lifted it after she sat down in the machine across from me. Once she was there, it went.
So I tried again today- absurdly- another athlete equally beautiful, cute but other body type- you wouldn't that understand one is buxom and therefore sexy while the other is the ultimate fashion model. (ok, so the athletes are brunettes and the scholars are blond, there are still less than five)
I got it again, easy. I weigh 135 lbs, take a size 32 waist and it was the first time I've bench pressed the 200lbs, I got it twice after beginning repetitions at 140lbs. But I upped my bicep curl to 150lbs after beginning repetitions at 120. And importantly, I still at the maximum for four machines- the rotary torso machine I rep untill 200lbs, the pull down (lal? lap?) I lift untill 245lbs (six reps today), the seated dip, which was easy last month, this month is sore, is still at the bottom, which i believe is 200lbs, and because I've been here a while I added five reps to the abdominal, making it 25 reps at 200lbs. The soreness in the stomach goes away quickly, the bench press is sore so I hold the weight clean after pumping and let down really slow. For the stomach I do the 200lbs as fast as I can. I could probably do more reps for tone, which is actually my objective- I increase reps after I lift greater weight.
You wouldn't believe how sexy the women that found me in two short days could be, to where my thought is- I have to look at you, I really don't care what anyonelse thinks is pretty, or thinks is dressed up, I have to look and could all night. You wouldn't understand- my optometry was really, really bad, I needed someone to sit next to me. I really didn't make it, it just seems I did. Tell me or don't tell me about whatever tornado you were in, the just has has to me someone feminine in the chair next me while I stick it out. I didn't mention- its more critical than that, the three students I met this month I might not see regularly- my eyes were that bad to where I haven't taken them for granted yet. The sexiest women I've ever thought of this much is fine, there isn't a discrepency. So they were there- I lifted more. I didn't get the co-author to pour over esoteric neglected out of print manuscripts and look at paintings with cobwebs on them all night. Truly,I need either of them, and if I end up in the Harvard Square looking for poet-artists one more time-let it break me.

In summary, I know how not to take camera, but very shortly my teeth will be removed.

After not blogging in a week,

Scott Lord

Goodbye teeth.
(thank heaven for the ex-wife whenever possible, it would be a little vain to continue with mentioning that she never knew I was painted nude before her and I met, I left the painting in a church on the outskirts of Harvard University and if that wasn't enough went back later with another "unenrolled undergrad" who was playing Stairway to Heaven on the University's sacred church piano, so we logically took a shower together in the church-I've only been given head in one church. Don't tell your wife anything about who you are, let her talk. Don't tell your pianist you had a painter you weren't going to tell wife about. the pianist never found the painting. Fellatio in a church with a 19 yearold d-cup....Wait- I'll make my point. Just don't tell her for christ's sake if she's still your wife. By the way it's a little vain to mention now that I'm having ten teeth removed and I'm convinced I want an an affair with specificlly two, but it has to be those two, college students and wouldn't know how to add semi-autobiographical material into a fictional novel if I had an IBM.

Lo.Ve.
Lift me.

Scott

Scott Lord: Sherlock Holmes

Scott Lord Sherlock Holmes

Scott Lord Sherlock Holmes

Scott Lord Sherlock Holmes

Scott Lord Sherlock Holmes

Scott Lord: Sherlock Holmes-mystery without Rathbone

Scott Lord Mystery: Boris Karloff

Scott Lord: Boris Karloff Mystery

Scott Lord Mystery

Scott Lord Mystery: Bulldog Drummond Escapes