_Welp, this is it. Another Netflix February in the books. This year was a bit tiring… you might’ve noticed that for the most part, my write-up’s didn’t really drop on time. always a few hours late… it happens. Sometimes, I’d watch the movie, then I’d need to sleep before finishing my post. Sometimes, I’d have to nap in the middle of the movie. I still enjoyed it, I just found myself needing to collect myself for it this year.
“Between goofy golfers and a grounds-destroying gopher, working at a country club can drive you a little crazy.”
I’m alright. Caddyshack.
_I sometimes look back on when I was a kid, as we all do from time to time. Every so often, I think of good things, but I find myself often thinking about the bad stuff. I remember being fickle. I remember being moody. I remember treating people like shit. I remember being self centered. I remember having all of those shitty traits kids have that makes them annoying to deal with so often. Now when I’m a fickle, self centered shithead, it’s with the cognitive knowledge of fully developed brain that just isn’t in the mood to put up a front for random people, not because I’d a kid that just doesn’t have the ability to be anything else.
“Three pets, two people, one little mix-up. A young pupand a fussy cat teach an old dog new tricks on the road home.”
Bark bark meow. Homeward Bound: The Incredible Journey.
_Not to downplay alcoholism, but I once described being a pro wrestling fan to my friend as basically like alcoholism. Alcoholics are never “cured.” they’re always “recovering.” It’s a sickness that never goes away, as if they were to proclaim themselves cured, they’d stop taking the medicine and become ravaged once again from the disease. Again, I’m not trying to downplay it…but that’s basically being a wrestling fan. You get into pro wrestling, and you’re never out. You may not watch matches anymore, or follow any stories, or care about any of the wrestlers…but you’re always one slip away from falling back in. One casual conversation away, “Oh, you went to the show last night? How was it? Who’re you into? Who has the title right now? Really, they’re still active?” Fact of life, you’re never out with wrestling.
“This dramatic rendering of a real-life tragedy recounts the final hours of Oscar Grant, shot by San Francisco transit police on New Year’s Day, 2009.”
It’s a downer, but it’s supposed to be. Fruitvale Station.
_If the internet has taught me anything, it’s that there are always seemingly like-minded folks all over the world to yourself. Whatever you are into, man, you can find an online fan-base for it. And after a while, you will come to the realization that they’re all awful. Just horrible. The worst. People are just terrible, and I want so little to do with everybody. All of the things I like, I just don’t have a hot, burning desire to discuss it with other fans, to be around their thoughts and opinions of it. I just want to enjoy my stuff and sit around and hope that other people will get into it and we’ll just share simple nods about it.
“Pretty good, huh?”
“A meddlesome matchmaker tries to manufacture melodrama. But sometimes, manipulation misfires.”
Mew. Is Emma.
_As we approach the end of Netflix February, I find these intro’s harder to write. It’s not that I have nothing to say, but more I begin to exhaust my supply of frivolous thoughts and ideas that come to me over the course of 28 days and find myself thinking “Well…with all of that said, all I’ve got remaining is the sorrow.” And I try not to be too dour. But so often I sit to write these and the first words that come to me are “Everything sucks” or “Bluuugghhhhhh” or “wergiiiut4gqgee” or “I was thinking of going to sleep for a couple forevers.” Like I said, I don’t want to be a downer or anything, but I also don’t really want to put up a total facade so I try and let it out a bit sometimes. But not too much. I’m bad at holding things back when they start to pour.
“In the high-stakes quiz shows of the 1950’s, one man was the brightest star. He loved all the hype, even the lies.”
Tick tock. Quiz Show.
_My knees are the part of my body that tell me I’m tired. Doesn’t matter how much I sit or stand or get up every 30 minutes and stretch, when my brain goes “You’ve been working too hard, go lie down,” it sends the signal to my knees. It says “You are the part of the body which will cease proper functioning. You are the part of the body will will ease the most tension when hitting the bed.” And when I need to get my ass up to move and try and accomplish things, they’re the part that goes “Man, you can just fuck off with that bluuuuuuggggghhhhhh.” These poor guys…I wish I could do more for them than just “lie down.”
“Something dark calls to her daughter from a town possessed by the damned. Survive the night and save the girl. Maybe.”
oOoOoOoOoOoOoOo Silent Hill.
_I don’t read as much as I should. Books, I mean. It’s kind of crazy how much the average person reads in a day, to be honest, but it’s generally frivolous shit on the internet. Social media, Wikipedia rabbit holes, random people’s opinions on crap like me this entire month… we read a lot on the internet. But I should read more books. I have a bunch of books I bought pretty cheap a few years back with the intention of getting back into reading some novels and stuff. Just didn’t. I should do that. When I’m done watching movies every day.
“In 1890s India, an arrogant British commander challenges the harshly taxed residents of Champaner to a high-stakes cricket match”
Break out your best dance moves, it’s Lagaan.