Welcome...welcome to my meat wall.

Welcome...welcome to my meat wall.

Clive Barker and David Lynch looked at each other. Sure, one tried to encourage budding artists, but Terence Chalmers' "Meat Wall" was not as stimulating or majestic as the proud

but he came back to tell who killed laura Palmer.This was around the time when the dwarf started to appear speaking that weird language and I guess that was during being dissected

for an explanation into Lynch's ham-fisted narrative the way one dissects a person for rapidly developing alien embryos. The film editor violently threw me into a sudden flashback.

I was a man with no place, and I knew it. I lit a S-shaped cigarette,sending the surrounding celluloid into a blistering white-out. In the cold distance, a dame with lips to kill

took a stab at the Jitterbug, and then the Charleston. I just couldn't understand these kids anymore. My days in Hollywood were probably through. The sheen of stardom just didn'

T justify staying since the parties were too wild now. Lindsay Lohan and her ilk had no idea what life meant any more! I pondered where to move. How about Chicago, my aunt told me.

I could never live in a city where the Sausage King could be so easily faked. Pretty much every mean or bad word that could be said for any place all had their origins in Gommorah.

I got on the next train out of there, never to return. Oh, the Sausage King visits me every now and then and we laugh over old times, but returning is out of the question. Forever.