#hanshotfirst (Taken with instagram)
Some thoughts on blurbs
I like a good blurb. A blurb can get stuck in the teeth of your brain
for weeks like a rogue piece of sausage. For instance, a reviewer
recently said of Men in Black 3, in theaters next week: “This messy,
overbearingly loud and barely diverting action comedy happens right in
front of you.” (Herald Sun) It actually uses that as a complaining:
happens right in front of you.
I’m not planning on seeing the movie, not in the theaters anyway, and
while I appreciate putting words to feelings, I just enjoy that an
entire opinion of a movie, an entire feeling of a piece of art can be
summed up in one sentence that by itself is so ridiculous that it
makes me 3ha, or laugh three laughs real loud.
My plan now is to become a reviewer myself so that my blurbs (positive
ones) can get printed on the movie posters, or in papers and review
sites (negative ones). But I want my blurbs to have even a greater
taste of whatever it is that makes these so inane.
Here’s my review for the upcoming film, Dark Knight Rising: “It’s like
a clown car that pulls up at your home at 3 in the morning and
promises you that it’s going to be cool and just hang out a bit, BUT
THEN IT DOESN’T.” And that’s it. That’s my review, my blurb, and it
will go worldwide and people who don’t want to look too out of the
know will say, “Ah, yes I felt the exact same way when my eyes
surveyed the screen,” and others will say, “What’s that cracker
smoking?” and then go and see the movie anyways, but it will still be
a lot of fun.
Here’s another I plan on using for Amazing Spider-Man coming out this
summer: “You’ll get this feeling in your leg when you watch it, and
you’ll question if that’s a safe feeling to have—going to the doctor,
getting tested by specialists, and in the end, right before the doctor
gives you the news, you’ll realize that Spider-Man gave you MRSA of
the soul.” And then I’ll go on and on about the performance but none
of that will be on a poster or half-time ad of the Spurs gave four win
over Miami. It’ll just be my quote, with a large drum soundtrack
beating behind it, as if these were the most important words ever
flashed before your face.
Every hour of it in Austin traffic, when I should have been doing something fun like thinking of waffle fries. (Taken with instagram)
Prod
My daughter is four and she will just work on making art all day—cutting, coloring, combining.
She can add and subtract, read words she shouldn’t recognize.
And she’s kind and empathetic. Silly and sarcastic.
I went to the local school here in Cedar Park to see if she could start a year early and they told me it was against the law.
I yelled “I AM THE LAW!” and ran away crying.
Note to self: mix these up and a Dudley Moore/ Kirk Cameron vehicle breaks out. (Taken with instagram)
me too
After receiving your forwarded email, I’m writing to you today to let you that you are not alone. I, too, have had my face melted off by an explosive mug of coffee fresh out of the microwave.
Before the incident I would have never questioned pulling out my favorite mug and sticking my nose directly into the liquid right away, not even waiting a moment. But now I do. And now, when I see someone walking by me at the bookstore, their hands filled with a steaming cup of death, I stand up and yell, “Enjoy that with your intact face, facey!!” In fact, I scoff the entire bean family.
And how coincidental is it that I am the child who bit into the apple the day after Halloween—like gangbusters, not waiting for the parent inspection of my loot—I garbled down the apple not realizing it was filled with chunks of a razor blade. I’ve never felt whole inside since that day. They say an Apple a day keeps the doctor away, but what they don’t tell you is that one Apple the day after Halloween can keep the intestines in some jar in a lab in Seattle —replaced by something not much more sophisticated than a garden hose.
I also opened up a can of Pepsi once and there was a well preserved rat stuffed in it. I did not realize this till after I drank the entire can of Pepsi. It scarred me for life. PTSD isn’t even a long enough acronym to cover it. Now every time I see a soda related product I get blurred vision and walk in a bow-legged fashion. My therapist said that I should take the rat and make him into a memorial, a memorial that states this has happened to me once and statistically this could never happen again. He was wrong. Now I got two Pepsi rats posted on the hearth.
All I’m trying to tell you is that you are not alone. If there is an urban legend or rare disease only experienced by an obscene percentage of the population, I too have had it happen to me. I also fought the giant Smurf.
