When I think about it, watching a new movie is like meeting a person. I generally don’t like people. It’s rare that I meet someone where I  actually want to extend the time I share with them. Usually I spend most of my time wondering when they are going to leave. It takes a rare person to intrigue me. Usually, most people I meet are so vapid and uninteresting (though I too tend to run in redundancies) that I spend the entirety of our encounter with an imaginary gun in my mouth. I will elaborate in a sec, but it is that rare person that actually draws me in, though sometimes I meet someone shy and I don’t experience any of the dread or want of self destruction, sometimes I am left slightly sullen, wanting much more. Movies too are like this for me.

Recently, I would say a month or so ago a photographer came to my apartment to drop off a cd of some pictures he had shot with my roommate. She and I were watching a movie, which is simply incidental to the story. So this guy stood there for maybe 15 minutes, and I was starting to get a little annoyed with his presence. I mean, he was disturbing my enjoyment of the movie. So in my own passive way I invited him to sit down on the couch I was sitting on. Now, this was a love seat. A fucking small couch, and you wanna know what that guy did? He fucking sat down and watched the rest of the movie with us. I was so fucking annoyed I wanted to strangle him, or myself, or some random bum.

This is how I often feel when I leave a movie theater. I want to kill someone because I just wasted my precious time on something that not only brought me no enjoyment other than the occasional laugh or two, but did nothing to inspire me, make me think, or in any way try to change me, whether it be for the better or worse.

People are so much like movies to me and rarely I find that little gem, or that big bright shiny gem, that actually intrigues me. That one diamond in the rough that makes me want more, makes me want to be it’s friend.

I watched a movie the other day that I freaking loved. It was called Knight and Day with Tom Cruise and Cameron Diaz. I loved this movie. It was fun, action packed, hilarious, and Cameron still looks SMOKING in a bikini. I walked out of the theater happy I had seen it. It has been a long time since I have seen a Hollywood flick that I didn’t hate. But as I think about it, the fun has faded. My desire to ever see it again just isn’t there. Why? Because it was good in the moment but really it didn’t give me anything to think about, nothing to ponder or wonder about. This movie was a beautiful girl without a brain in her head. Good for a little while, and while she may think she is “thmart” and she may hope you see her that way, she’s really just an empty shell that’s fun to look at.

Sometimes I meet a person and instantly I like them. But over time I realize that there is a lot less to them on the inside and mostly just a shiny package. You could say action flicks are like this, or a lot of hollywood comedies. They are like that really cool guy you just met with the cool car that everyone is friends with,,, for a couple weeks till they find out that he is morally bankrupt and really has no soul. Lots of flash and no substance. Or that really beautiful girl that you meet and she seems fun but only because your mesmerized by her beauty and the few tricks she has learned, but after a while you find out there really ins’t anything in her brain and your love for her fades. le sigh…

I like shy people. Shy people often don’t give you much to work with when you first encounter them. They may not talk, or they look away, but like the others you give them a little of your time. During your encounter you may get a few words out of them but for the most part your first encounter with them didn’t impress you. THEN you hang out with them again and something is different. They are different. They may open up and talk to you. They may have big thoughts they want to share. They may blow your fucking mind by how deep they are. These are the people I love. These are the movies I look for.

Guy Ritchie has managed, I think, to make some of the greatest “shy” movies I have ever seen. And in fact, I’m calling them that from now on, shy movies. The thing is With the exception of Snatch which I loved upon my first viewing, I don’t generally love Guy Ritchie movies the first time I watch them. I don’t even like them. And thus the pattern of re-watching them has become a theme with me and him.

I honestly didn’t think I was going to love Revolver. This was the last movie of his that I held out watching a second time. I fucking HATED it my first time through. Mostly because I didn’t understand it. Then after I had fallen in love with all his other non-Madona movies I decided to re-watch it. And it happened. I fell in love. I feel like Revolver is one of my best friends, because every time I watch it I think something new, I feel engaged, energized, alive. I always see it differently, and that is why I love his movies.

This is of course just one example. I have many other movies and directors that I can watch over and over because they hide how awesome they are until further examination. So the morale of my little brain diarrhea which you have just committed to the endless expanse of synapses, neurons and dendrites which make up the grayest parts of your lonely existence on this damp ball of decaying plant and animal life hurling it’s self through space toward an anticlimactic end is: don’t discount the shy ones, they may surprise you.

Now fuck off.

…it starts in the back of my brain and works its way to the front of my face. It moves down my neck and speeds across my chest. It fills my abdomen and tingles my crotchoral region. It then moves down my thighs and past my knees ending in my feet and toesies. Then it makes the journey up the back side of my body until it reaches it’s starting point. What. A. Trip. And then I watch Shaun of the Dead and it all stops, like at a red light, engine reving, foot on the brake, waiting to go again. Moments into the movie the world becomes wavy, like my consciousness jumped into a pool of mineral oil with bright lights shining in every direction. I swim to the surface only to find I am at the bottom, never able to properly navigate the depths. I evaporate into billions of molecules floating through space, connected and individual, floating through the ether, lazily expanding and contracting at the whims of the daylight. I condense into droplets of an idea of what I was. I rain the idea of self upon the city. I flow into the streams and canals of your thoughts, pooling into a singularity, like a black hole of memories. Splashing and crashing about upon rocks and sand. Surfers ride me like tandem lovers on cobble streets. I burst like a balloon filled with homemade explosives. I warm the transients and prostitutes. I engulf and enrage the disconnected and disingenuous. I fry like a fish in the pan, covered in butter and salt. My trophy wife. My flash bulb. My pornographic bible. I died that day and lived my life every moment afterward.

Well, I guess it’s more in the brain than the mouth. And “of inspiration” is the burstee. And the inspiration thus:

I have sort of a new idea -certainly not a new idea in the context of being the first person in the whole of history to think of it, but definitely new for me- that would replace the so-called bucket list with maybe a bucket list of rules to incorporate into my standard operating procedure as it relates to life in general. etcetera etcetera yah. So the idea its this, I don’t have any sort of pre-set goals written in a list of things to do before I die, but I AM constantly on the move. I move to a place live there a year, or in the case of my current situation; 3 and then I move on. Never really taking in all that the current city I live in has to offer. SO!

As I move around from town to town I will research the town in which I reside at the time, and I will make a list of 10 activities or attractions, or touristy places to visit and learn from. Then once I have done ten of these so-called adventures, I will move on. And then write about all the crazy shit I get into.

I should have been writing about all the crazy shit I have done. But laziness comes with the belief that everything in life is free for the taking.. How right was I? haha, but laziness is still not good. So, we’ll see… Now where did I set down my bong?

I do, in fact, want an iPad. Weird names be damned. I want one. I may say that I would like one in place of a laptop to replace the one I have. I may say that I want one because I will write more with it, and that I must have it or I just can’t be productive in this ever changing and always evolving and revolving world we find ourselves stuck to like hornets in mud. I may even go so far as to say I will finally be able to be more effective with my days. The calendar app is something I must have in order to be more organized…

I could say all these things…

I would be lying…

I just want to watch tv shows on hulu with it, and I want to play games with it, and I want to goof off and waste even more time, possibly with it? maybe? probably not. I will probably just use the money to buy drugs… But I don’t do drugs… shit.

A haiku for you, I have ten fingers and toes, twenty phalanges.

Another haiku, whats red and green and purple, I have no idea.

Watching House is fun, especially when you’re drunk, which I am right now.

I don’t like to brag, but I am the coolest dude, who says “dude” anymore?

Lurky lurky loo, who are you today my friend, lurky lurky low.

What if this were true, I only spoke in haiku, wouldn’t that be cool?

The Human Flu sucks, Why do I have to get sick, There should be a law.

I got up at five, too early to be awake, feel a little sick.

My severe headache, keeps me awake all night long, I’m going to die.