Did you see The Evil Dead remake? Did you love it as much as I did? Chances are, you didn’t love it as much as me, because I loved it with the sort of reckless passion that makes a fat cake sneak into a closet and eat a chocolate cake at 2 a.m, consequences be damned. I thought the movie pretty much did everything perfect. I thought from the retelling of the story, to the casting, to the game changing practical special effects, it was a perfect horror movie. Problem is, I knew little I would see afterwards would be able to touch it, and the slew of horror films that have followed have proven me right. Come on, you all must have noticed there haven’t been a ton of horror lists since I saw that film, and that is no coincidence. Thing is, horror is part of what earned me my name, so this freaking me out a little. I NEED horror. It is part of who I am. So between Funny Games, Cabin in the Woods, Martyrs, and now this, did I finally see my holy grail of horror films? Have I finally outgrown my favorite genre, because my favorite genre has outgrown itself? Have I climbed the highest mountain, personally speaking, and all other snow-frosted peaks look dull to me now? God, I hope not. But it sure feels like it.
I walked in the place a little after midnight, and it smelled like every poor choice I ever made, collected in one room forgotten dive bar.
There was a layer of visible smoke between your gaze and everything there, like gray silk hung over ugly pictures.
The kind of place where no one made eye contact, and we all just sat in our own corners of our own empty booths, drinking away our transgressions, while seeking out new ones.
That is where I first felt him, in that little bar in Boston that has no name and no sign, at whenever the fuck o’ clock.
The kind of place only suicidal drunks and whore’s worth their dime know about.
The kind of place Bukowski would have frequented to find wounded women to fuck, and caramel colored booze to drink.
A place he would have liked for being more ugly than him. Thing is, I found it beautiful.
And I think that is why he met me there.
Well, his ghost did, anyway.
I have definitely taken the time to show Mom’s love on this site, but only drop some quick nods to Dads, here and there. Why? Well, Dads are different from Moms in the sense that a Dad might have done something awesome for you and been the greatest guy ever, but some Dads just aren’t comfortable talking about that. To some Dads, the ultimate reward is just you going out and doing the best you can, and every now and then, if we hug and admit we love each other, all will be well with the world. But come on, it’s Father’s day for crying out loud. If there is only one day a year we go on and on about how cool Dads are, this is the day. I did it last year, and even if my Dad and I, and most people with their Dad’s, don’t always see eye to eye, I am gonna blather about Dads some more. Seriously, though, I might be outta nice things to say about Dads after this, so I would bookmark this article.
As a medium, film not only possesses the power to move us, but to also shift how we see the world, shift the way we interact with others, and shift the way we live our lives. And no genre of film holds quite as much power over us to do that as documentaries. Rather then tell us a fictional story, a documentary peels back the layers of a true story, and often reveals to us a side of life we have never had an opportunity to take a good, long look at before. The end result of this can often be a profound impact on the viewer, resonating deeply into their daily lives, and the way they live that life. Here are six documentaries that are wildly varied, yet all have the power to change the way you think, be it for better or worse.
Want to help me form this site in this big, throbbing muscle it is bound to be?
You see, my webmaster up and bailed on me to seek a bohemian lifestyle of bedding younger women and sailing the high seas, which has left me at the helm of this glorious ship, yet at the helm alone. So this is where you, masters of the web, can come in. The reality is, the site already has legs, has ads, and has found its flow, so all you really need to do is stand behind the scenes like Oz, and help me run this show from time to time when stuff gets kooky. But also, help me run it more efficiently. And on top of that, you help me find writer gigs (cuz freelance is still a great deal of how I make my living), you make money, too, so win win. And the reality is, I am creeping steadily towards two million readers in just over a year’s time, with no advertising and using only word of mouth (and some fucked up writing). So really, who WOULDN’T want to jump on this rocket ship, when you know the only destination is, well, really, who the fuck knows, but maybe you can help me get there. Either way, we know it will be somewhere awesome.