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Ah, memories

I was reflecting on the movies in this week's BMM review. Redneck Zombies, in particular.

See, it was part of how this whole bad movie thing started out for me. I mean, I'd literally grown up on Mystery Science Theater 3000, so finding mirth in awfulness wasn't new to me. But actually trying my own hand at that kind of amusement? That's much newer.

See, this all started last summer, right after the Grand Blackout of 2010, when we lost power for a week. Some friends stayed over to keep me company/ sane. After we got power back, one friend, Pixel, announced a powerful craving for zombie movies. So I  found a nice zombie collection on demonoid. It had many fantastic sounding films to watch, but Redneck Zombies stood out.

That zombie collection combined with emboldening experience of seeing The Room in a theater with other hecklers got me started on this whole Bad Movie Monday review track.

Ah, memories.

Some time later, I can't remember how much, I acquired Creature from the Hillbilly Lagoon. I mean, who could resist that title?

Some months after that—basically last week—I realized I could do a pretty easy cop-out review just by comparing them. My mind is like lightning, folks.

So yeah, it was nice to finally get those movies reviewed. I'd already been comparing them for people when they'd ask for recommendations. Plus, I'd forgotten how much I enjoyed Redneck Zombies until I rewatched it.


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This moment: A tattoo.

So I read Mrs. Dalloway in high school, and it was perhaps the most beautiful thing I'd ever read. One passage in particular, very early in the book, hit me hard with my first experience of the sublime, and stayed with me—and led at last to my first tattoo.
In people’s eyes, in the swing, tramp, and trudge; in the bellow and the uproar; the carriages, motor cars, omnibuses, vans, sandwich men shuffling and swinging; brass bands; barrel organs; in the triumph and the jingle and the strange high singing of some aeroplane overhead was what she loved; life; London; this moment of June.  (Emphasis added; full paragraph included below. From the full text of the novel as made available by the University of Adelaide.)

The paragraph this is from, the 4th paragraph of the novel, is the 1st passage with the stream of consciousness the book is famous for; although self-limited here, the flow is no less gorgeous. In the passage, Clarissa is walking on a street to get those famous flowers herse…

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You know, I've routinely refused to watch Glee. Like whoa. I've seen bits, it's amusing, but not my thing. Plus how can I be a properly pretentions intellectual fag if I don't look down on & snub snobbily some ragingly popular thing?? It's just not proper decorum, really.

I'm also in a Rocky Horror Picture Show shadowcast (website in progress, but that's us :)). Naturally, they were all excited about that Glee episode when they first heard about it; I on the other hand gave a pained smile and said "Isn't that special. I'm still not watching it."

Part of me's pretty glad I didn't, frankly. (hah! get it? like Tim Curry.)

A Valentine's Special.

Yeah, I'm one of those guys who's never really been with someone around Valentine's. I am sometimes baffled how other people manage these things--and why I can't. To be fair, it's probably as much my not trying enough and trying too hard as it is anything pariticularly wrong with me. Like, I know I don't get myself out there enough to meet guys and when I do it's probably compensatory and usually flawed from the start.

The other question is--why does it matter so much to me? Evidently it seems like something I want but something I'm scared of, too. It may also be something I'm just not very good at. I'm secretly timid and fearful of most confrontation and directness. For all my communication skills, I always seem to chicken out when it comes to talking to guys in a healthy, sustaining way. I'm a dreamer who wants something nice badly enough to stick to something for the concept of having it more than the reality of dealing with it; I want to…