When I ignore what I’m told, and “nerd out”, I’m much happier, and my work is better. I hope I can retain this confidence to “choose my words carefully”, and be “overly descriptive”, because it actually makes me happy. With that being said, here’s the topic that I wish to discuss using said hope.
I can’t stand action movies because of their improbability, especially considering the sheer number of action movies out there.
I get that art is a “heightened” sense of reality, but come on now…
The “explosions” are so saturated in film that I am uninterested in them. “Oh, would you look at that. Yet another explosion. How original.” I suppose I’m an idiot, because I’m superficially talking about explosions in movies instead of stories in movies. But I’m not much of a “movie” person (I guess because of all of the EXPLOSIONS).
It’s the same thing with shootings in movies. Most of the bullets miss. I already know this “going in”. I can’t suspend my disbelief enough to care about the “inherent danger” of those in the bullets’ path.
I feel the same way (most of the time) with “good guys” and “bad guys”. I expect the good guys to win. I can’t believe that the bad guy is any real danger because I’m certain he’s going to lose. I prefer the “bad guy” to win at the end because it is an unexpected suckerpunch. It’s kind of like watching a sporting event where the “underdog” loses. Most people want to see the underdog “win”. But in movies, the “underdog” is the villain. I can’t believe that a hero in a movie is an “underdog” (even if the script tries to describe him as such) because I’m sure that he’s going to win. The villain is the underdog in movies, in my mind. I usually want the villain to win. I want the unexpected, and I want to be excited and a little depressed at the end. I don’t want the telegraphed “happy ending”. There’s exceptions to this rule (usually when the movie is about a historical war), but this is generally the case for me. Movies (particularly “action” movies) are mundane to me. I need some twists that I can’t see coming. I want very little predictability (unless it makes me laugh). I think I should do some in-depth movie reviews to try to illustrate what I like and dislike about specific films I have seen to make this easier.
I’ve always been one to care more about why and how movies were made than “enjoying” movies in the typical way most people do. There, of course, have been many exceptions to this. But generally, I have always been more interested in why there was so much money involved in movies, and why and how the movies were made, as I have already said.
Almost every time I watch a movie, I try to predict what will happen. Sitting there, “waiting” for it to unfold when I already know what is going to happen is so excruciatingly boring. Why would I watch it if I know what is going to happen? It’s like a scientific experiment that has been done forever: sure, when you first have a theory, you need to test it experimentally. But expecting me to “shut up” and “just watch it” is expecting way too fucking much from me. The formula is played out, even if the details vary. I need to experience something else. I recall being younger, watching a movie in school (I forget which one), and I said “Such and such is going to happen.” I was bored to tears, and I kept doing this. Someone finally said “I know, but shut up.” This person was intently watching. Why watch if you know exactly what is going to happen? I never understood it: especially something “serious”. Romance is disgusting (of course). Action movies are boring. Comedies are good, historical movies are good. Drama is a mixed bag. Most of the time, it falls flat on its face to me. A movie like “Jack” starring Robin Williams is an example of a drama done really fucking well. I cried when I first saw it as a teenager. It wasn’t cliché (it seemed very original to me, but I’m no expert). It was incredibly moving. So many dramas seem to be of the romantic variety, so perhaps that’s why I have such a problem with them. It is also just so fucking easy to become melodramatic. It is hard to create a compelling drama. And it is hard to get me to suspend my disbelief (especially with drama).
But I do enjoy the “horror” genre of movies. The more extreme, the better. Why do I get tired of explosions, but not blood? I don’t know the exact statistics, but is murder less “probabilistic” than explosions “in the real world”? Why do I care more for blood than explosions?
I should specify that I’m still not an avid “movie watcher”. I don’t gorge myself with horror films. I’m not really a “movie guy”. But when I do watch a movie, I want it to either be a comedy or a horror film. (Or a Batman film. I’ll have to leave him for another piece).
So why do I love blood in movies so much more than explosions?
I guess it’s because I enjoy purposeful, evil darkness more so than accidental explosions (even if the explosions are purposeful. I want to see some fake blood where the tone is more “dark” than “exciting”. To me, “dark” is “exciting”. “Exciting” is “boring”. It has become cliché).
Couldn’t it be said that murder is also cliché and boring? How many stabs and slashes can you watch? Once again, I repeat, I’m not a big “movie guy”, but murder films are more refreshing to me (believe it or not) than “The good guys always win and the horror doesn’t even look that bad” films. A guy robbed a bank. Who cares? Why should I be invested? Does he have a hostage? How bad does he treat the hostage? A “bad guy” is selling drugs. Who cares? I want his reason for being bad to be almost incomprehensible. Why does he kill? He just does. Or something traumatizing happened to him. I don’t want it to make any sense. Money makes too much sense to me. If a villain is going to be a villain because of money, he needs to be a really fucking brutal villain for me to care. (Color is also a big deal to me. I want everything to look dark and dirty: not bright and flashy).
If people are racing in a movie, and there’s an explosion (or a chase scene leading to the same thing), the “accident” doesn’t feel real to me because I know it was scripted. There’s just a certain tone that movies have to have for me to like them. A guy walking away from an explosion in slow-motion while rock music plays makes me want to blow my brains out. It is possible that I found the character compelling before that moment, in which case, his previous circumstances may make his “badassery” interesting. But I hate explosions for their own sake. I just, more often than not, can’t find explosions compelling. It depends on the characters and the tone of the film, but most of the time, it feels like explosions are the reasons why movies are created. “People are gonna pay to watch shit blow up. Nothing else matters, but let’s have some really fucking fast cars in there as well. We need to have something to happen in between the explosions, and people expect to see a movie that’s at least an hour and a half, so let’s make it happen!” I don’t watch a lot of movies, but I get the sense that so many movies revolve around explosions, and I find that quite lazy. Once again, I’m probably wrong, because I don’t watch a lot of movies, but that’s just my impression of them. There probably needs to be some parody involved if I’m going to care about explosions. Or, ironically enough, some drama surrounding them. Not action. I’m fucking tired of “action”.
When I first saw the movie “Atomic Twister” as a young teen, I was hooked. The idea of a tornado hitting a nuclear power plant was fucking terrifying to me. That was, really, all I needed: the fact that it could be real, and be really devastating. And it was original: sure, there’s the movie “Twister”. But this was “Atomic Twister” (lol). Yes, I was younger, and I know this affected my perception of the movie. But it wasn’t “Cars drive real fast – anti-hero – drugs are involved – bang-bang shoot ’em up” movie. Most of those make me want to fucking vomit.
However, when you have a very sadistic killer, I feel like the writer of the script is trying to understand these killers on the deepest level possible (besides going out and killing someone in real life), and that attempt to connect humanely with something so inhumane is appealing to me. “Why does he kill?” “No one knows.” That is a compelling story to me.
When you can move past the fear (at least the nearly-religious fear of being so afraid of it that you ignore it and try to get away from it as much as possible, including not attempting to empathize with it in any way to humanize it), it becomes a deep, heartfelt, gut-wrenching journey between trying to relate to those so despicable. It is, in my opinion, one of the most humane things one can do. If you can try to understand a serial killer, even if you are trying to empathize with someone who has no empathy (which may or may not be possible: topic for another time), to me, that’s as empathetic as you can get. It may or may not be possible, and I certainly wouldn’t say that you should go out and kill people to know what it feels like, but all the same, I think that, at least for me, and through art, connecting to that type of human is exciting. Conflict is extremely important when it comes to art and storytelling, and there is no greater conflict (in my opinion) than extreme life and death; peace and suffering; humanity and complete evil in human form (which, it could be argued, isn’t even human AT ALL. A very interesting discussion).
All I can think of, when real tragedies happen, is sadness. And I try to move on from them quickly, and I don’t try to waste my time trying to understand it, because I don’t think that I could.
But through art, I believe that one can empathize, ponder, and try to relate to these (as they are called) “monsters” in that way that is less angry at their actions (which is understandable), and turn that into tragedy, in trying to understand why they did it, and, perhaps, forgive them for it. It’s a great philosophical topic to think about: empathizing with the unempathetic. It’s too complicated for me to analyze it here, but there’s a deep part of me that wishes to understand human-created horror (I don’t think I’m any different from anyone else in that regard), and I think that the type of art that I create is my way of doing that. I don’t know for a fact if this is correct, but it certainly feels that way…
Also, I think another reason (a potentially BIG reason) that I am “obsessed” with “offensive“, “violent” art has to do with the fear of being one myself, which, no doubt, was greatly influenced by religious preachings of wariness, lest we sin every possible sin, and become a murdering, incestuous, raping, homosexual thief…
I, also, feel the same way about choreographed fighting as I do explosions. I get that to people that enjoy these types of movies, they are some of the more “exciting” parts of these movies. But choreographed fighting (usually) bores me. No one takes a good, solid hit for the first five minutes of fighting (both sides block every blow, or the strikes just completely whiff), and then either the good guy or bad guy gets hurt. They stop, look at their wound. If it’s the bad guy, he gets more angry than he was before, and the good guy can barely defend himself from it. If it is the good guy, the movie makes you think he’s going to lose. But, by some miracle (either from a compromised structure due to earlier in the film, or another character, or whatever), the good guy wins. I know it sounds like I’m always against good guys winning. (Most of the time, I am). But I want the good guy to be compelling to me. Most of the time, this just isn’t the case. I’m rarely invested in the story, because I’m not a “movie” guy. “Dur, then why are you writing about movies, huh?”
I also want to bring up one more aspect of acting in general: dialogue. Maybe I’m being overly-critical here, but the way dialogue is delivered today drives me mad. Cop shows on television are fucking terrible for it. Detective walks in, almost power-walking, throws a folder down on the counter of the “main guy in charge” talking in this low “serious” voice. A question is asked. The dialogue is delivered in the same monotone voice. Guy asks another question. Detective asks a question back in a higher tone. Lead guy answers with a “Well blah blah blah blah.” I can’t fucking take it. I can’t fucking sit through that shit. (The only exception to this was “House”. It was a “detective” show, but it wasn’t a “cop” show. House was a very interesting character. The formula worked for that show. It was like they combined a detective show with a hospital show. It was quite original, and very well done). I have problems with dialogue in action movies, too. They just don’t sell me. I’m not buying into them. Once again, admittedly, I’m not a “movie” guy. But it’s not like a movie or a show can’t capture me. Most of them just don’t, though. The formula is played out. The tones of dialogue are so predictable (as is almost everything else about the movies) that I can’t bring myself to watch them. But, they sell well.
I enjoy movies that are a little weird. A movie like “Teeth”, for instance. A vagina with teeth. Fucking beautiful. Hilarious. Now that is original. It’s got comedy and horror: two of my favorite things.
“Rubber”. A fucking tire that blows shit up. It’s so dumb, and that’s why I love it so much. It’s so “absurd”: “out there”. I find that refreshing. I don’t need to find it believable, or emotional. Give me dumb, but give me original. I think that’s what I enjoy the most about movies.
“Human Centipede”. Need I say more? A fucking hilarious horror movie. My only problem with the movie was the main villain, believe it or not. I enjoyed what he did, but I didn’t enjoy his personality. He came across as a little cheesy to me. I guess I wanted him to come across a little more like Jason, or Jigsaw.
One of my favorite movies of all time (and I’m not joking): “The Descent”. I know that is going to sound weird to pretty much everyone. “I can tell you really haven’t seen a lot of movies, Cody.” The whole setting in that movie was wonderful to me. There’s a real terror involved: what if you do get fucking lost in this cave? What if you can’t get out? I found it very compelling. The bullshit at the end was funny and cheesy, but I was emotionally invested before that.
I want my movies to be a little bit weird. A little bit “off-kilter”. Once again, I’d like to write some movie and show reviews. Some reviews of movies I watched a long time ago. Same with television shows. I’d like to even do the same thing with some books, eventually.
I’m not going to claim that any of my reviews are “objective” in any way, and, of course, you have the right to disagree with everything I say about any review. I’m not claiming that “I’m right and you’re wrong”: I’m just writing my opinions.
If the process of growing up has taught me anything, it is that individuals must live their own lives, with their own feelings, and experience the world in their own ways, make their own mistakes, and pursue their own passions.
Yugioh TCG Exclusive! Rise of the Republicans Starter Deck! 20 dollars a box. Features include:
TRUMP’S RED CAP
Ritual Spell Card
“This card is used to ritual summon “Donald Trump.” You must also tribute “white” monsters from your hand of field whose total level stars equal exactly 8. Except the turn this card was sent to the graveyard, you can banish this card from your graveyard; add one “Electoral College” or “Trump Tower” from your deck to your hand.”
Lv: 8 ATK 3000 DEF 2500
“You can ritual summon this card with “Trump’s Red Cap.” Gain 1000 life points during each of your standby phases. When you summon a “white” monster(s) while you control this face-up card: draw 1 card. If this card is targeted by the effect of a “feminist” card, negate the effect and attach that card to this one as an equip spell card (that card does not count towards your Spell/Trap Zone limit). If this card battles a non-“white” monster, before damage calculation, banish that monster.”
Continuous Trap Card
“Neither player can summon monsters except “white” monsters. All “white” monsters you control gain 500 ATK and DEF. If this card leaves the field, you can special summon one “Trump” monster from your hand, graveyard, or deck, ignoring its summoning conditions.”
Yugioh will never be the same again…..
There has never been a better time in my life for me to write than right now. Everything is falling into place perfectly. I’m more mentally developed than I have ever been since I wanted to write (I know that may come as a surprise to many of you. I must’ve set the bar pretty low). I’ve wanted to write ever since I was a child. I had visions of aliens in my head. The physical act of typing itself makes me happy.
I’ve had my personal demons to fight. Many of them have retarded my writing throughout my teenage years. I’ve lacked confidence for a long time. I’ve always been afraid of appearing like a “smartass”. I’ve never had a good “support structure” to be a writer. In fact, I feel like many things have been stacked against me as a writer. A naturally anxious disposition. Religious upbringing. Living in a constant state of guilt for any self-perceived advantage I had over any other human being, including being able to calculate math, or write decently (sorry, King. I like my adverbs greatly).
But I have realized that the biggest hurdle I have had to overcome over the past several years was my education. After reading and listening to many very intelligent people for the past, at least five years now, (mainly political and economic thinkers), as well as developing my own personal philosophies, I finally feel like I have “some grasp”. Sometimes, it feels as if the majority of my youth was spent in boredom. I enjoyed play, but boredom bothered me more than anything else. There was seemingly never enough stimulation. At least, stimulation I was into. I’ve always been interested in philosophy. And no one is interested in philosophy.
My anger and resentment at my lack of mental stimulation bothered me all through my teenage years. I had thoughts, and things I wanted to say, but no real way to say them. I mean, who was to say that I wasn’t crazy? That I wasn’t wrong? I couldn’t bounce any ideas off of someone without them dismissing my ideas as “a waste of time for someone my age”, or any other dumb thing you could think of. So, I continued to wait, waiting for that appropriate mental stimulation that struck my fancy. Here’s some things I’ve written about reading.
Clearly, we all have personality traits that just seem to stick with us all of our lives. Yes, we all change drastically, from youth to geriatricy. But I think it’s safe to say that we are born with personalities beyond our controls. That we just have certain natural traits that we’re born with, and these stick with us forever.
Some traits that I have seemingly always had is the desire to think philosophically; the desire to write; and the desire to make others laugh (I’m not going to go into the negative ones in much detail in this piece, but second-guessing is also a pretty strong one, as I reread this entire piece over for a second time). Maybe not every child is born a philosopher (although I’m not sure about that), but almost every child is born a scientist. Luckily, I grasped language pretty easily early on in life (thanks, no doubt, to my parents’ genes and patient laboriousness) and reading was fun for me early on. At least I’m not illiterate. I have wanted to be a writer ever since I was a child. But only when I was twenty did I ever really start. And that was five years ago. Yes, if you feel you must stop reading due to “how young I am”, “how pretentious I’m coming across”, or anything else stupid you feel you must say, then do us both a favor and stop reading right now. Why should you care what I have to say? You tell me. And if you can’t, then don’t bother reading this. It’s not my job to tell you the value you should find in my words. That’s for you to decide for yourself.
Language is a struggle for me. I often find myself not wanting to sound smart for fear of isolating people who will think I’m a “smartass”. But then, when I do want to write, it’s dumb and repetitive. But I don’t even really like communicating. I mean, I like this. But why? I don’t like you. I don’t even know you. I have no idea who is going to be reading this. So, in a sense, why should I care what you, the reader, think? And, therefore, why should you, the reader, care what I think? And thus, my philosophical nature I previously discussed becomes evident.
I sit and think about these things until my head starts to hurt, and then I pretend to be an idiot for my own amusement and bewilderment of others. Until that becomes too stale, and then I come back to this dreg. Once again, I am thankful that I’m finally old enough, and at enough of a mental development to at least organize these thoughts into words better than I have been able to do in the past. I’m pretty happy, things are good in my life for the time being, so I’m in a good frame of mind to write. And because I know this window isn’t going to last forever, I know I need to write now, right now, because I will never have an opportunity like this again. This may be the first time I’ve ever really realized this fact. But I’m not going to take any chances on the possibility that I’ve always had this time, but never acted upon it, and am instead going to assume that the only time I will ever have to do this is right now simply to make sure I get it all done.
I’ve been seriously writing for five years now. I wrote some really bad fiction that I need to edit, I’ve written some articles that I’m proud of, and I’ve written countless jokes that I love. And nobody gives a damn about any of that. And I’m finally able to accept that. I have wanted to “prove to the world” what I could do for so long that I’ve been stuck in a “me against the world” mentality that’s only left me angry and frustrated. Entitlement? Sure. Honestly, I think it was lack of organizational skills. I know I can write. It doesn’t matter if I’m not King or Rowling; I can write, goddammit, and it doesn’t matter what you, or anyone else says, I can fucking write. I’ve always believed this (although, as I have gone about writing, I have noticed glaring shortcomings), but I’ve spent a lot of time trying to prove to others that I could actually do it. Stupidly enough, this mainly involved not actually doing the fucking writing. Why would I spend so much time proving to people that I could write instead of actually fucking writing? Well, because the writing at the time was bad. Is bad. I know it’s bad. But the problem is that deep down inside of me, I know I have potential. And that scares the fuck out of me. I can’t afford to fuck this up. I have spent years and years developing personal philosophies to a point to be comfortable enough to write something like this. Thinking about readers, and how to deal with criticism that is either valid or invalid. How to deal with historical authors who I think were great, but who were overlooked, or misunderstood and miscategorized, and how I would react when it happens to me. I want to know these things, or at least think about them. Because I love doing it. But it’s hard to put these things into words when you don’t have the language skills to do so because you don’t like reading and you don’t like talking to people and you don’t like listening to people. It’s really hard to write when you’re like that, as I am. I don’t consider it a “problem”. I have just needed to find a way to do it that feels right for me, and that involves copious solitude, and reading and listening to people a hell of a lot smarter than I. And, after five years of doing the latter, and only recently being able to do the former, I’m finally ready to try to write something like this.
If you’ve read anything of mine before, you may think it’s repetitive. It probably is. I’m probably just elaborating a little bit more than I did previously. But, once again, I really don’t care if it’s repetitive. I really don’t care if you hate it. When I’m happy, it’s done, even if I think it’s shit later.
Why am I writing this when no one is going to read it? I want to discuss how my brain thinks about big subjects on a wide scale, but I’ve already written about that. Am I just trying to get the world to notice me? Clearly, that’s a part of it. But I haven’t completely developed my writing style yet. This is what I’m working on. Ok, let me write some things. Are they repetitive? Did I elaborate? Or regurgitate? The only way to figure it out is to just fucking do it, even if I’m afraid I’m adding nothing new than what I’ve already written at this point, so that’s one thing I’m trying to do in this piece.
Honestly, I do want readers to care. But, I don’t care if they care. Honestly, what I’m trying to say is so obvious that I don’t even want to fucking say it. It’s annoying. I hate unironically repeating myself. But, of course, I need readers, because I need money. I’m not good enough to get money yet, but I need to write so I can get better so I can get readers. So I need to fucking write. And, here we go. Here’s some of what this fucking dreg is all about. Practice. Goddamn, practice. Where are my thoughts going with this? Where is my editor? Somebody get this motherfucker back on track. He’s a trainwreck.
I don’t even want to have anything to say right here. I just want to fucking write. I just fucking love it. I don’t give a fuck what I say. That’s why this piece fucking sucks. I don’t care that it sucks. God dammit, I just want to fucking write. Write, goddamn you. There is no better time in your fucking life to write than right now. Why in the fuck aren’t you writing, you dumb piece of shit. You have all the fucking time in the world to write right now, and you aren’t doing it. Because you know you suck. Because you know you aren’t very good. Because it’s hard. Weh, what a little baby. What writer didn’t have it hard, you whiny, entitled piece of shit? Holy shit, you’re talking to yourself in third person. The readers are really going to think you’re crazy now, huh Cody? Oh my God, you wrote Cody. Holy shit, you did it again. Now you’re writing a repetitive, annoying joke. Holy shit Cody. Where are you going with this? You better fucking make up your mind. You’re losing them fast- oh wait a minute, they aren’t there *cackles manically*
[losing my mind feels so goddamn good]
Now you’re interjecting your third person narration by breaking the fourth wall.
Once again, there isn’t really any point or direction with this. I know no one is going to read this. I can look at my reading stats and know this. But I don’t fucking care. I like it. It’s funny. It’s not King, or Rowling. But it’s literate. Maybe you’ll like it. Share it. “Oh man, have you heard of this crazy little kid writing?” “Man, this entitled shit thinks he actually has what it takes to be a writer. Wait until he’s 40 years old working at Walmart. He’s gonna wish he chose a different career.” “His writing has no coherency whatsoever. What in the fuck is he thinking? What in the fuck is he trying to say? Why in the fuck is he writing?! He could be doing something more productive. Learning a skill. This hobby isn’t ever going to make him any money.”
Once again, I know I’m not a Rowling or King (even if I can’t help but feel like, deep inside, I have something; some potential). But I’m a writer, God dammit. And that’s what I’m fucking doing right now, regardless of how fucking bad it is.
I don’t give a fuck anymore what you have to say about how bad it is. Any of you, hypothetical people, or “haters” from my past. I don’t care if you think I sound like Eric Harris. I just don’t give any fucking shit anymore. I have to write. And if I’m going to write, I might as well try to piss you off, so fuck you. I hope it does sound incoherent, and crazy. Makes you worry about my sanity. Because you’re a fucking moron, and I know this. So it doesn’t matter how little my words make sense to you, because you’re a fucking moron.
God is great, God is good, thank you for putting me in a shitty, small stupid town.
Confidence, Cody. You need confidence. You need practice. You need more thinking. Learning. You need it fucking all, Cody. You need more courage. You need to be more crazy, and insane, and loopy, and funny. You need it all, Cody. You need it all. You’ve been doing pretty good so far. Granted, no one knows who you are, and the people that do can’t stand your fucking guts. But you’re doing a pretty good job so far, Cody. Keep it up. You’ll show them all one day or die trying, and it honestly doesn’t matter to you which one happens first. And keep talking to yourself in third person: the readers love that.
…Damn, this was pretty fucking good, huh? And it felt so natural too. God DAMN humor comes easily for you! Good for you! No one fucking cares but you, you dumb little shit. You dumb little narcissistic, bipolar little shit.
Thanks for reading.
This is why I never fucking write and why I fucking love writing all at the same time.
How do I end this goddamn piece of shit, making sure I have said all I want to say.
I’m going out of my fucking mind.
…That sounds good.
Also, I’m socially anxious, and have no idea how I’m going to handle the fame that I’m going to have to have if I’m ever going to turn my passions into a viable career, so I don’t know how I’m going to handle that.
Just laugh at my problems please.
……….That sounds really bad.
End on a happy note.
(Wrote this in just a few minutes to brag. I mean, I guess it’s a selling point, so I’m going to use it. “You narcissistic, entitled prick!!!”)