Did anyone see District 9? Now that's one awful movie. I say this because it wasn't a double feature or it would be two horrible movies. Who knew the shantytown aliens would turn out to be more human than human beings? Who knew de Jerk would turn into a "prawn"? I'd guess everyone. If Peter Jackson's not ashamed of himself, I am of myself for paying to see this predictable pile of extra terrestrial poop.
Speaking of extra terrestrials, I saw E.T. for the first time the other day. Is it one of the best movies of the 80s? In a word, no. Spielberg tends to lay on the shmaltz way too thick--& please don't tell me E.T. was made for kids. That doesn't change the fact I've been puking shmaltz since Saturday.
I'm trying to remember the last good movie I've seen. It sure wasn't Star Trek Babies nor the latest Harry Potter. What was the title, Harry Potter & the Milking of the Franchise? Sheesh, other than the opening scene in which Snape swears his loyalty to Voldemort, nothing else that happens has anything to do with the ending. It's all irrelevant filler. Oh, sure, it's artsy, but if the point is that teens wanna get it on, I can find more graphic depictions at no cost on the web.
I would do well to stay immersed in poetry if for no other reason than to avoid such excruciating experiences. I certainly have plenty to do. I have a full-length book manuscript--a semi-finalist in a recent competition--I'm continuing to circulate, as well as two new chapbooks I'm working on. Plus, I have several new poems I want to send out. Hey, how come no one's offered to make movies out of my poems? Sadly, I'm relegated to surveillance cameras at Dollar General.
Wait, I got one, a good movie I've seen recently: I'm a Cyborg, But That's OK. Let's just say I was skeptical because it stars Rain--cheap shot, sorry--but I enjoyed the surrealistic probing of the line between reality & fantasy, illustrated by the delusions of patients in a psychiatric hospital. I especially like the part in which Peter Jackson, his enormous head wrapped in aluminum foil, apologizes profusely for everything while J.K. Rowling sings rich mushy love songs. Spielberg, ass bared in his untied gown, fancies himself the world's greatest ping-pong player until Leonard Nimoy with rabbit ears bursts into the room & confesses--he's the thief!
Speaking of extra terrestrials, I saw E.T. for the first time the other day. Is it one of the best movies of the 80s? In a word, no. Spielberg tends to lay on the shmaltz way too thick--& please don't tell me E.T. was made for kids. That doesn't change the fact I've been puking shmaltz since Saturday.
I'm trying to remember the last good movie I've seen. It sure wasn't Star Trek Babies nor the latest Harry Potter. What was the title, Harry Potter & the Milking of the Franchise? Sheesh, other than the opening scene in which Snape swears his loyalty to Voldemort, nothing else that happens has anything to do with the ending. It's all irrelevant filler. Oh, sure, it's artsy, but if the point is that teens wanna get it on, I can find more graphic depictions at no cost on the web.
I would do well to stay immersed in poetry if for no other reason than to avoid such excruciating experiences. I certainly have plenty to do. I have a full-length book manuscript--a semi-finalist in a recent competition--I'm continuing to circulate, as well as two new chapbooks I'm working on. Plus, I have several new poems I want to send out. Hey, how come no one's offered to make movies out of my poems? Sadly, I'm relegated to surveillance cameras at Dollar General.
Wait, I got one, a good movie I've seen recently: I'm a Cyborg, But That's OK. Let's just say I was skeptical because it stars Rain--cheap shot, sorry--but I enjoyed the surrealistic probing of the line between reality & fantasy, illustrated by the delusions of patients in a psychiatric hospital. I especially like the part in which Peter Jackson, his enormous head wrapped in aluminum foil, apologizes profusely for everything while J.K. Rowling sings rich mushy love songs. Spielberg, ass bared in his untied gown, fancies himself the world's greatest ping-pong player until Leonard Nimoy with rabbit ears bursts into the room & confesses--he's the thief!
Comments
I couldn't agree with you more on all the terrible Hollywood films you named. I'd also be sorry to hear that you've been puking schmaltz since Saturday, but it seems to be something with which all honest artists must live. I am sorry that so much of it has to exist and that so many people allow themselves to be manipulated.
It's unbelievable that no highly acclaimed directors have contacted you about your poems. If I don't see one of your poems adapted to the big screen soon, it's hard to tell what I'll do. Maybe a book of your poems could replace a Danny Elfman or Hans Zimmer score for any upcoming natural disaster film. Someone help me if I hear another thing from Thomas Newman and his xylophones.
I wasn't going to tell you, but I laughed aloud for wholly TWO seconds over your District 9 comment - how a double feature would make it TWO horrible movies. Good stuff.
Well, that's enough babbling from me.
Thanks for making me laugh… (not aimed to deride you, though I like that it could be interpreted that way.) Picture a sarcastic Bluto to Popeye: "You make me laugh!"
Until next time, sir.