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The Mad Ones

I walked into the theater where Sam was sitting and it was empty. No one else wanted to see On The Road in the West Village. The seats were old and they made squeaks when you took them back.

After a minute two girls walked in. They had good hair. They had no idea what they were walking into. It was a second after they sat coats-off a row behind me and Sam when I talked loud so they could hear.

"Lord Almighty."

"Christ keep shit in check."

"But Schlink it’s like, God, what if I bought a thing of whiskey."


"Hey, girls, if I bought a thing of whiskey, wanna split it."

The other two people in the auditorium, the two girls, giggled like they meant it. They said yes and moved next to us while I was dispatched to the nearest liquor store, and good luck it was just next door. The movie flickered on and I took the thing and undid it.

I loved the movie. As I’m no critic, of film or basically anything else, I feel right in taking On The Road as a thing to talk about. It is a mandate I have. From the place where I first read the book to now is miles. It takes time to get there. The title is, for once, literal. That’s nice. It is natural for me, too, seeing someone on the road observing, as I myself can’t drive. Here’s where I say that I too am Kerouac. He’s happy to get a cross-gearshift hand job from his best friend’s wife instead of taking the wheel. No explanation necessary as to why that’s in the movie. But maybe, here: taking the wheel actually is a different animal. I feel that.

As for the movie itself the scene is New Years Eve, going into 1949. Cassady had a dance with Marylou, Kristen Stewart, and Kristen Stewart is all hips and lips dancing to Charlie Parker’s “Salt Peanuts.”

I was outside after the movie ended. The two girls watched me have a smoke and then said they had work in the morning. Sam got on a subway. I was walking home when I remembered a nice bar, and I had a beer there not talking to the bartendress. 

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But I was still lost. And that’s when I first learned about the Vortex. They had chained themselves here on purpose, in order to preach about the Vortex. It was a world in the Pacific Ocean where 100 million tons of us had gathered. They said there was no maker. They said we were the maker. They said in the Vortex we were free. It was paradise. They told me to go there to join the others. - 11:36

Celebrated voice over artist Werner Herzog voiced a plastic bag in a short film called "Plastic Bag."  (via Slate)

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Absurdist Tumblrs: Horoscopes4horses on The Social Network


Except what else would you call it? The Shape of My Heart: No.
The Nudge of Thy Neighbor: This hasn’t arrived yet, it was only a dream.
Your Face: You will see support for this one, as you would see support
for yourself on an elementary school stage (but resist). The Book: No.
The Night Hardly Anyone Came: A darkness beyond what we’re going for.
Surfer Rosa by The Pixies: A New Years resolution for an evener keel.
Saved By The Bell: Narrated by no one herself. On Your Sofa: Private lessons
in reality television. Middle School: The Amazing Race. Young Tom Hanks:
Paradoxes & oxymorons. Young Meg Ryan: All rhymes. America Online
Instant Messenger: This is the way movies were meant to begin.
The Gigantic Feet on My Shoulders: Somehow escaping the awe.
Aquemini by Outkast: Divulged like a rumor. High School: Survivor.
Saved By The Bell (The New Class): F-ck you so, so, so much. On Your
Sofa: Conjugations of verbs cushioned into the ground. The Ocean as
The Lake as The Pool as The Bath: At some point the islands cease to be
newly discovered. Sex: An absence in which I’ve sprouted. The Summer
of No Bed: Just motion, & tennis, & self-esteem. Kid A by Radiohead:
No. Earth Science: Are you kidding me. College: The Real Housewives
of New Jersey. Crowded Bar: A foreign-language credit I never received.
Relationship Status: Sh-tty architecture of sugar. Blackout by Britney
Spears: & that’s how, one night, I could dance. Old Tom Hanks: You’ve
eaten your hair. Old Meg Ryan: Inevitable, & poorly postponed. X: No.
Graduate School: The Bachelorette. A Chronology of Kisses: Warm &
pointlessly diverse. The Summer of All Bed: What the body told.
The Doctors: Each direction different & yet approximately the same.
To What We Became: The mob as a virgin on a very plain level. To What
We Wanted to Become: Each other. Religion: No. The Book: Though I
like the way Heaven is painted. Fearless by Taylor Swift: There’s nothing
to take back believe me. Social Network, Sofa Cushion: & let us have no
regrets. My Regrets: Are mostly under-specific verbs. Social Network:
I request you. On Your Sofa: I unfriend you, I confirm you, I confirm
you again.


For a few months now I’ve been thinking about writing a post on/roundup of "absurd" blogs/tumblrs. Images, video, text, SummerofMegadeth, etc. You know, for our vinyl collection. I know there’s the "weird" directory, but I dunno, it’s not, like, the same? Maybe a #absurd tag going? 

(Source: poemsvsvolcano)

Blake, Olivia, Zooey and Natalie Put Out… New Trailers, Make Our Weeks

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Thank God This is Happening

Starring Steve Urkel (a.k.a. Jaleel White):

The long awaited sequel to the masterpiece Mega Shark vs. Giant Octopus

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Jumping the Ghost Shark 2: Urban Jaws

Lot going on here. I know we’re like 10 blog years late here, but let’s take a stab at it. 

This is the trailer to Ghost Shark 2: Urban Jaws. Here’s what you need to know about it. Don’t remember the original? There wasn’t one. That’s right.

We could talk about “sharksploitation,” or the idea of a shark appearing out of a glass of ice cubes, but what’s clearly of note here is that they made the sequel first. 

 This isn’t the same situation as Star Wars, where Lucas knew what he was doing and had the prequel(s) more or less mapped out. No, I think the bros behind Ghost Shark 2 just wanted an excuse to “jump” to the even-more-over-the-top sequel that is allowed to piggy back on the plot/set-up/characters of the original and thus is allowed more room for special effects. POW, BANG, WAMP!!! 

Audiences crave this flashbang approach. Only idiots walk in to films like Piranha 3D with expectations of anything more than sex and gore. As evident by the number of real sequels and reboots, all original plots are already taken. Or us “millennials” are too cynical to entertain new stories. Now stunts need to be exaggerated to what some would called “laughable” in order to elicit the same reaction that simple explosions used to.

Either way these action-porn flicks like Machete seem to be the new thing. Sure, its got a pro-immigration tilt, but there’s no doubt that boring scenes— despite being “necessary” to the plot— will be skipped or at least sped-up to make room for more Lindsay Lohan/that other girl/explosions. The directors know it’s not important. Like the original Ghost Shark

UPDATE: this.

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The Zac Efron Effect

Last night, against better judgment, I saw Charlie St. Cloud starring none other than the High School Musical ”heartthrob” Zac Efron. The theater had a girl-to-guy ratio of 20:1. It was not surprising. But two bros did show up together and sat a seat apart. Frat or gay? We may never know.

Anyway! I cried my eyes out during the movie. Charlie’s (Zac Efron’s) 11-year-old brother dies in the first 10 minutes of the movie which was, obviously, the beginning of my demise. So while I’m crying about this dead kid and his relationship with his brother, Zac Efron is about to save the day! A girl’s life is on the line, and as Zac is about to rescue her, he takes his shirt off. “Finally!” echoed throughout the theater. At that moment I realized that none of the girls younger than 18 had actually come to see the movie. Who cared that a little kid had died? Zac’s shirt was off. Thank God. 

What have I learned from this experience? you might ask. Better question: Who cares? “Act”, “Sing”, “talk to your dead brother”, whatever. All you need is a good hair cut.