It has been quite a while since I wrote anything on here, but Grad School takes up a whole chunk of time. In between that, other writings, personal losses, anxieties, money issues, and running a movie review website, a lot of time gets eaten up.
I will be on here more often and more regularly, and I plan on redesigning this website.
To tell you the truth, I’ve been struggling: two years since my dad died and no money, and a shit ton of grad classes, and more books to read and get through, and an unhelpful system that prides grabbing people into the program, but the money is not there.
This is all to say that Life Happens, and yet I’m still here, through it all.
Here’s a poem, hope you dig it:
A dry fridge
I have a dry fridge,
it complains a lot about lack
of things inside it and yet
what can I do/ I’m just one guy
barraged by books that he will
never pick up again, let alone remember/
instead of “in one ear, out the other” it’s
in front of my eyes, but no brain-space for it,
memory refusing to make itself work
as if in a protest performance piece, the brain and the heart and the
gut knowing better than to retain
There’s a bottle of ketchup
which will not see the light of day
and a packet of soy sauce in a drawer
which will go unnoticed until many ages past
when the muck of Florida rises up
and swarms around us/ There’s an empty egg carton
waiting around to be thrown out but will have to wait longer,
and a bag of broccoli that shrinks everyday. These are the things
that occupy a dry fridge, a fridge on the mend, in a rehab siutation
bereft of enticements and temptations of splendor, wonder, excitement,
danger, promises, a new adventure, a new hangover, a new high, a new
bad trip, a new anything. It’s just as sober as anyone or anything else.
It’s just as sad.
I AM running backwards heels levitating spine erect i bounce against the concrete gripping on my elbows they are raised over my head my fingers intertwine my cheeks inflate eyes wide open fierce al…
Source: “my body when i write”
In need of some new reading to spur your mind? Here is a great list of FREE BOOKS in PDF form to educate oneself on race, gender, sexuality, class, and culture! Please feel free to share this with …
I’ll admit it–I’m not expecting Ant-Man to be Marvel’s finest hours, either in terms of movie, or of box office returns. But one of the things that’s confused me from the start is why Ant-Man at all? What is the reason to even make this movie, other than as a Edgar Wright joint?
Up until now, there has not really been a satisfactory answer. One explanation has been that it’s the first “passing of the torch” movie the MCU has done–all the other “origin story” movies have been about the character finding their inner superhero, or descending from Asgard to discover Earth, etc. What we haven’t had in terms of story was a character who was created, and then passed the title to someone else. But I had sort of assumed we would see that down the line–especially once Robert Downey decided he was getting too old and needed to…
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Lauren is standing at her closet, naked, all skinny white legs and arms.
“You have too much shit,” I say.
She laughs, pointing to the floor. “Half is yours.”
A hot-pink tube top we stole last year covers part of an old Rolling Stone. Just the other day we’d walked out of Sawgrass Mills with almost a grand in tanks and panties—all those tiny, stretchy, stringy things she loved—layered over our bras, one in every color. When counting the price tags back here, we laughed at the losers who’d pay for what we took straight out of the dressing rooms. Most everything stayed tagged and rumpled on her floor; she was always losing interest, eyeing some new piece on a fashion blog, and I couldn’t take any of it home ’cause my mom had an eye for things we could no longer afford. Lauren called it the five-finger discount. “Another…
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