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Friday, March 27th, 2009
5:10 pm - Official Thad Afterword
So, what are my official thoughts now that Thad is done?

I’ve been working on this goddamn thing for more then two years. It all started out as a spurn of the moment joke. I felt like shit, so I decided to write something that described my feelings. Within the half-hour it took me to jot down chapter one, I had all ready decided who this Thad character was and that this was going to become the comic, absurd homage to 1930s pulp serials that I’d been meaning to write forever. I immediately set up a bi-weekly release schedule that I could in no way meet and purposely decided not to plan out a plot and just make it up as I went.

That was a mistake, of course, and the first, I’d say, five chapters suffer from it. I had an idea of where I wanted to take the story but, when I sat down to write, that would invariably change into something else. At this point, I really didn’t have a schedule either. I think I started implementing the monthly updates around chapter four but I rarely stuck to it, often missing months and taking long breaks during the summer or Christmas or whatever bullshit excuse I could think of. I’d try to justify it by saying I was busy with school but the truth is I was probably just being a whiny little emo bitch and not wanting to be productive and work on anything. This might’ve had something to do with me not really having any idea where to take the character and the series. It wasn’t until about chapter seven that I decided to stick to a clear-cut plan for the rest of the story. And, even then, I slacked off and was lazy and the outcome invariably changed into something different. You want to know just how many ideas fell out of my ass as I went? All of chapter one, the Vindicator, Silloc, Rachel, and most of chapter three, Abu the insane cab driver, the Landshark, and Derneck where all characters and concept that just floated out from my keyboard as I worked. For a while, this stream-of-consciousness style was sort of fun, just allowed me to turn off my brain and work on nonsense for a while. Of course, this style also prevented me from getting anything done in a solid amount of time and that was frustrating too.

So, midway through an inexplicable summer break I decided to hunker down and actually finish the fucking thing. I plotted out the next six chapters and the epilogue and decided to, more or less, stick to that blueprint. I would finish every chapter in time for the scheduled release date and would actually accomplish something. And, shocking everyone in a totally non-sarcastic way, I actually stuck to it. Save for being a day late due to my flash drive getting corrupted, I made every release date. The chapters became longer, more plot and action filled, the humor became less spontaneous and things got more depressing, character driven, melancholic, and self-reflective. Did it honestly make “Thad” any better? I’m not sure, I can’t approach it from that angle yet, I’m still not far enough removed. Maybe in a few months I can tell you if this novella is worth anything or if it’s all just a jumbled mess of nonsense.

With this, I also learned a few things. First off, writing is hard. I don’t envy professionals who have to crap a novel out every year in order to stay in the money and cocaine. Often times, I’d force myself to write when I really didn’t feel like it. Which, I guess is a good thing, because I usually felt better afterwards. Or sometimes what I had written was just so stale and crappy that, when I was in a better mood, I’d go back and rewrite it all. Ultimately, it was good for me to give myself a deadline and the general productivity in my life increased, not just in the creativity department. Instead of just sitting around, feeling sorry for myself, and jerking off to cartoons, I’d actually accomplish something with my free time. Whatever. I also think I pushed my writing style to the limit. I still love ridiculous, unnecessary, superficial adjectives but I have a lot of problems with describing action and tenses. Truthfully, this is why I mostly write screenplays because prose annoys me. It’s boring having to describe stuff in detail instead of just stating the important things and doing the stuff I like to write: Character interaction, gory acts of violence, and arty-for-artiness sake moments of introspective. From now on, I think I’ll stick to first-person prospective. Because that other shit is just too much fucking work.

Honestly, the “Thad” experience must have meant something to me because after it was done, I was completely fucking miserable all week. I felt like my purpose in life had been jerked away and suddenly I had nothing to look forward to or no reason to be productive. This is normal for me after I’ve finished a project but for one that has had such a long gestation period, the feeling was tripled. Those feelings of depression and lack of direction have returned and I’ll probably immediately start working on something else, just to distract myself.

I like Thad, as a character. I know his personality changed to suit the story’s needs, sometimes from genuine nice guy willing to help anyone, to limp-wristed coward that fainted at a moment’s notice, to a shining hero. I think I might have made it work, within the context of the universe, but I’m not sure how successful I was in subverting the traditional hero archetype. I love the supporting cast, even if the perverted lunatics all came off sounding too similar. Writing Silloc, Rachel, and Ass all provided me with hours of enjoyment. Though when it came to female characters, they all sort of got stuck in back-talk sass mode. But most of the women I know in real life are like that, so who knows. I also think I successfully created a three-dimensional villain in James Eaalhi. (And, just for the record, it’s pronounced “Eel-lie,” not “Eel-lee.” Difference.) Maybe all the self-referral and meta-fictional stuff came off as heavy-handed college bullshit and maybe all the emotional, romantic stuff was overwrought, but, fuck it, I like it.

I’m not sure how much it matters, since it seems like not many people read it anyway, but I had fun with it and, at the very least, I can now brag to my friends that I actually finished a 198 page short novel. I’ve thought about maybe trying to get it published in book form, but I’m not sure about that. I’d probably have to go back and rewrite the whole thing to make it professional enough and I’m certainly not up to that now, if ever. I’m considering rewriting chapters one through three to make them more in line with the rest of the series, but I might just decide to blow that off and never do it. I like Thad and his world and have all ready fit it into the rest of my universe. So, we certainly haven’t seen the last of Thad and a few of his choice supporting characters. I’m just not sure what form they’ll return in, wither it be print, comic, or film.

But it’s finally fucking done, so hurrah for me. And that’s all I feel like saying for now. I apologize and gratefully thank you for reading, as always.

[People interested in reading "The Adventures of Thad Gunter" can experience it here: http://www.fictionpress.com/s/2352036/1/The_Adventures_of_Thad_Gunter]

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Tuesday, October 28th, 2008
2:47 pm - AMV-driven depression binges...
Okay, I know I never update my journal anymore, except when I have girl issues to bitch about. (Here and at my Myspace, if you must read). But I have some real news to report.

So Blue Ridge had a writer's contest a while ago. I pulled out one of my better poems to submit and decided I needed to cook up a short story as well. After coming up with a couple shitty ideas, I decided to throw empathy out the window and write what I know. So I shitted out some thing call "In My Defense," eight pages of bitching and naval gazing, revolving around a lonely slacker with big dreams, little ambition, and no luck with the women folk. Then I mixed in some random Sean Catlett references for fun. I liked it and submitted it, comfortable that it would never win and no one would know my shame. It was far too cynical, flippant, and angry to ever win anything as square as a college writing contest. Within the story I even make references to not being classy enough to be publish in a book.

Well, fuck all that I know, because it won first place. My poem got an honorable mention as well. Both will be publish in a book in the future. And I won a free bus ride to New York City. The whole thing is pretty neat.

If you're interested in reading the story, its here: http://bonehead-xl.deviantart.com/art/In-My-Defense-99950181

In other news: I fucked my big toe up the other night. It has this really gross purple and black bruise on it. You wanna' see? I can post pictures!

That is all. Happy Halloween! I leave you with these words of wisdom:

"It isn’t a matter of hating rice, make no mistake. I don’t hate rice. I’d go as far as to say that I love rice, but you can’t get me to touch the stuff, rice. This befuddles many of the rice-lovers I converse with, and I bring it up to these rice-lovers every chance I get. I try to explain how I feel about rice but they won’t listen, claiming that we weren’t even talking about rice. But I always assure them that we were, we were always talking about it. Rice, that is.” - Oscar Templeton

current mood: hungry

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Thursday, July 31st, 2008
4:44 am - Feminist theory...

Kelly was “hugely infatuated” with me and “went further then other girls did” with the guys she had been dating for a while

Karen thought I was stalker material

And the real humdinger: Tiffany apparently got drunk and got banged by the four or six members of the baseball team. This makes me sick just thinking about it.

Thanks for everything, Chris. Asshole.

I don’t know if any of this is true but it is enough to make me want to hurt myself.

That is all.

current mood: depressed

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Tuesday, June 17th, 2008
3:05 am - Oh, he's such an impressive sight...
First off, I want to open with a memorial. Stan Winston died last night. If you don't know who he was, Stan Winston was one of the best, if not the best, practical effects man of our time. He created the Terminator, the Predator, the Queen Alien, Pumpkinhead, Edward Scissorhands, the dinosaurs from "Jurassic Parks," The Thing, the monsters from "Monster Squad," the "Wrong Turn" hicks, Iron Man, and countless others. Years back on AMC, back when AMC was still worth watching, he hosted the Friday night movie, showcasing a classic effects flick. It was here where I was introduced to many of the classic sci-fi/fantasy/horror films that were so important to my formative years as a fan. Hell, back in the eighth grade, when we had to write a letter to someone we admired, I picked Mr. Winston. He was 62, far too young, and died of multiple myeloma, which is a terrible way to go. I read this news today and was just devastated. My mom summed it up best when she said, "No more monsters."

Moving on to more positive issues, I've been published now, twice. First at the punk rock horror website, Horror Yearbook, which kicks the shit out of all the other horror review sites, were I bemoan a bit on the mall horror trend: http://www.horroryearbook.com/543457/the-horrors-of-mall-horror And then again, briefly, at the ultra-cool and unique site, Kindertrauma: http://www.kindertrauma.com/?p=410

I've also put together another blog, this one solely for my movie reviews. It's set up at blogger which makes putting together pretty looking HTML so easy a retarded monkey could do it: http://zacksfilmthoughts.blogspot.com/

In other news: My birthday is in a week. I don't want to turn twenty. I asked for information from like ten different on-line colleges and now wish I hadn't because they've been calling me all others of the night, clogging up both my mailbox and my inbox with shit and generally won't leave me alone. Needless to say, this just makes me not want to look into them even more. Finally, I actually called up T the other day. We talked for a while. It was real awkward. We just caught up with each other, talked about our post-high school existence, you know, general bullshit. I wanted to bring up the letter and I think she wanted to as well but neither of us did. I don't know if I'll call her again.

Blah. Done. To bed.

current mood: tired

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Monday, May 19th, 2008
9:30 pm - Tom Waits for no man...
Classes are fin for now. I don't know if I passed them. And I don't care. I honestly could not be more apathetic about college is Dr. Zaius cut out a piece of my brain. (Whoo! Reference!)

Because of previously mentioned emotions, I'm looking for a new college to waste my time at. Probably an on-line one. Hopefully one I'm at least mildly interested in. If I go with an on-line school, I'll have to get a job. And a driver's licence. Which I don't want to do, in case long-time readers couldn't figure that out.

I submitted one of my screenplays to a contest. And I might have a non-paying job writing for a horror movie website. I'll talk about that more if/when the webmaster gets back to me. Also I voted for the first time last Tuesday. The octogenarians that run the polls were very proud of me.

So, real news (not really.) Bumped into T. today at the newly arrived Ocmed. Didn't know what to do at first beyond just stare blankly in the opposite direction for a few minutes. She was buying potato chips and drinks for what I'll assume was a trip of some sort. I did the best I could ignoring her and covertly investigated the canned meats section. However, because the fates are just wacky guys, she recognized me and came up and said hey. Though my initial reaction was to gouge my eyes out with a near-by can of Spam, I did manage to say hey back. We talk for more then a few moments. About our current lives (in which I only let slip one blatant lie), about our high school lives, about other general shit. Anyway, the kicker is it ended with her giving me her phone number and e-mail. And the scary thing is I'm 87 percent certain her and the infamous boyfriend are now retired. (Because I saw her sipping a milkshake, looking very sad, at the mall a month ago. Doesn't mean anything, I know) And I'm 46 percent certain that she knows it was I who wrote a certain letter a few certain years back. I'm probably just blowing a friendly gesture out of proportion. Needless to say, I'm terrified. I want to call her but I'm frightened over what might happen if I do.

Also, faithful readers, you know I value the few long lasting friendships I've manage to sustain over the years. However, recently, a friend of mine has been off his job because of a medical injury. And he has been calling me and threatening to come over on a far more then regular basis. Not to be douchebag, but it's way more then I like. I don't want to hurt anyone's feelings but, goddamn it, I wish he'd leave me alone.

We have no money because of the home repairs. This makes me a sad wombat.

Even if the new "Indiana Jones" movie sucks, it's still awesome because of the amount of new merchandise I've been able to pick up for it.


current mood: confused

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Sunday, April 20th, 2008
2:00 am - An alarm clock that cooks bacon is probably the greatest invention ever...
Oh, yeah, sure, I could use my blog to update my friends on my life. But, you know, I'm just not that nice of a guy. I'm just gonna' bitch about shit that pisses me off.

I'm beginning to think that I'm not a nice person so much as I'm just a moron. Now what led me to this conclusion? Last Wednesday, at four thirty in the morning, I received a phone call. Now, this is a bit of an unusual occurence. It's not un-often that the phone rings in the middle of my night, my mother usually calls me from work at least once a night. But usually not this late. I put down my lab top and the anime DVD it was playing (N3RD!) and march my doughy little ass over to the telephoning machine. I scan the caller ID. "Private Caller." My brain buzzes with possibilities. What the hell? Who's this? So I pick up the receiver and am met with a voice I don't immediately recognize. Or don't recognize at all. The caller claims to be an drunk lonely person who just wants to talk to someone. Confused, yes, I was. But because I'm a nice guy, I decided to give the caller the benefit of the doubt. And then he goes on. It becomes apparent that the caller, let's call him the Killer in the Attic, isn't alone on the other line. There are at least two other killers in my attic. And a parakeet, apparently. A killer parakeet. At first the questions are fairly pedestrian: What's your job? What's your college major? What do you do for fun? What game systems do you have? Do you have any pets? After a while I begin to realize that the Killer in the Attic, his friends, and his killer parakeet are playing a prank on me. He ask if I have a girlfriend and because I'm an insecure bastard I tell the Killer in the Attic I have one. This segues into questions about my sex life. After the Killer in the Attic and his friends laugh at me because of that, I then begin to realize that I've been fucking pranked. He must have realized that too because he then begins to talk about his bi-curious friend and how he would just loved to go out with me. How together they dress up in dresses and make-up, how they shave each other's pubic hair, and then about how he had nailed my nonexistent girlfriend and they were going out. And how if he caught me with my nonexistent girlfriend, he'd kick my ass. In a dress. Hey, I can take a joke. I'm a fair sport. A fair sport in the sense that, after talking to a prankster for a half-hour, I'm ready to fucking hang up. So I did. But because the Killer in the Attic is apparently a real chatty bastard, he calls me back a minute later. We talked some more. However, I foolishly thought that I recognized the voice of one of the Killer's friends as my insane fake-Internet-friend Josh Norton. And the Killer in the Attic must be Josh's one friend that I saw on that really funny YouTube video he sent me. After playing along with these guys for a while, I present them with my discovery. They take it in stride and more or less continue the charade. Hey, I'm a fair sport, I can play along. After a few more minutes of taking the Killer in the Attic's abuse, he tells me that he's from a radio station, from DC101, and I have just been pranked as part of the Elliot in the Morning show. I was relieved. Rather a shock-jock then a Killer in the Attic. I even use to listen to Elliot in the Morning back before I developed genuine musical taste. So we talk a little more about how they aren't really my friend Josh Norton and company. They then ask me to request a song. Okay, hey, I'm a fair sport. I can play along. So I throw out a request for the first alternative song that comes to mind. ("Nemesis" by Shriekback. That's an alternative band, right?) The Killer in the Attic then, right before hanging, threatens to kill me.

So, now its nearly five o'clock in the morning. I have class the next day. I need to go to bed. I'm not fucking tired because I just chattered on the phone for a half hour with some unfunny douchebag who claimed to be from a radio station. And at five this douchebag calls back. Fucking calls me back and claims to be from a dating service. Okay, I'm pissed off now so I tell this douchebag to fuck off and I hang up. Because I can't sleep, I decide to listen to DC101 to see how truthful these unfunny douchebags are. After listening to the voices of the Elliot in the Morning crew for a moment, I realize that I have totally, completely, utterly being fucking pranked. The Killer in the Attic might as well have just pissed in a bottel, let me drink it, and tell me it was fucking Coca-Cola.

Now, there are a couple of ways a person could handle these. They could shrug their shoulders, laugh, and say, "Well, I guess the jokes on me! Haha!" "Ah, this was an enlightening moment in humility!" Well you know what? Fuck those response. The more I thought about it, the more angry I became. Some drunken college frat-fucks were laughing their asses off at me. Some drunken college frat-fucks that I don't even fucking know. I can handle being made fun off by my friends. I do it too. But to be anonymously mocked? ARGH! RAGE! ZACK SMASH TELE-PRANKSTERS! I was reminded off my elementary/middle school/high school days of being bullied and picked on. Reminding these bullies of how smart I am makes them hit me harder. Going to the teacher about these bullies make them hunt me down after school and throw rocks at me. Trying to fight the bullies gets my ass kicked. Eating my lunch in the bathroom to escape ridicule gets me yelled at by the motherfucking pedophile principal. In fewer words, I was filled with the sort of impotent rage I had hoped I'd left behind me a few years ago. You know how I escape this rage? The moral of George A. Romero's "Diary of the Dead" is the only way to survive in this increasingly frightening world is to totally withdraw and hide from it. I've been withdrawing and hiding for two years and now that won't even keep the fucking assholes away from my door. Fuck!

And you know what the punchline is? The motherfucking motherfucker fucking called again tonight. I wanted to pick up the phone and scream incoherently at his friends and him, threaten to call the police on him, threaten to hunt him down and break his legs, threaten to rape all of them and then, after shoving my cock down their throats, I'd cut off their own fucking dicks and shove it down their own goddamn throats. I wanted to pick up the phone just to hang it back up.

I didn't do that. I let it ring until it stopped ringing. And then it ringed again and I just stand there and watch the caller ID until the ringing stopped once again. Because acting will only get you in trouble.

I know I promised never to get political on this blog, but, what the fuck, right? Maybe it'll actually gain me more internet popularity then just bitching about my life has. So, I'm voting for Barack Obama. Not only because I want to appear as a forward, thinking, totally not, uh-uh, at all non-racist. But because he seems like a down to Earth guy. A guy who is actually somewhat eager to put the typical political mudslinging behind him. A guy who realizes that small town people are poor because they simple-minded. (And who actually has the balls to say it) And a guy who, despite knowing that small town people are idiots, still wants those idiot to have health care. So, it's official internet, Zack Clopton throws his support behind the black guy. Not the old guy. Not the bitch. The black dude. Yeah for America.


current mood: discontent

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Monday, January 7th, 2008
10:24 pm - Eat my eyeballs...
“HeadOn! Apply directly to your forehead! HeadOn! Apply directly to your forehead! HeadOn! Apply directly to your…”


Happy New Year, faithful readers! That’s right, it’s movie retrospective time again! And the update is so big this year I actually had to invent a new word to describe it. “Hugenormous.” Look that motherfucker up on UrbanDictionary. I saw so many movies during the past year that I almost classify as a real movie critic. Like a real movie critic, I considered just putting together a top ten list of my favorite films of the year and ending it there. However, boys and girl, this is the internet! All bets are off! Fuck that noise! I’m determined to honor the hard work of everyone that worked on the flicks I saw this year, even the really shitty ones. So bend over and prepare to have 66 mini-reviews, listed from most awesome to most painful, forcefully inserted into your anus!

But first… Taps.

I’m going to miss you, NickGAS. You were an obscure upper-cable channel devoted to recycling Nickelodeon’s old game shows. You were discontinued on the 31st. Though I appreciated revisiting “Figure It Out” and “Legends of the Hidden Temple,” it was “Nick Arcade” that I’ll miss the most. I’ll miss the huge amount of unintentional comedy you provided me with. The ineptly constructed format, the blitheringly stupid contestants, but more then anything else, host Phil Moore. I don’t know where you are now, Phil Moore, but, god willing, you are off in outer space, fighting against malicious alien forces and protecting our planet. Or, perhaps, you spontaneously combusted from all your built-up awesomeness not being utilize. All the other ironic, absurd Internet writers might worship Chuck Norris or Jack Bauer but you, Phil Moore, are my Internet hero. God bless and may your memory live on forever in the minds of the mentally unstable and tragically great.

But secondly… A short review.

As far as film goes, 2007 wasn’t an awful year, more of a disappointing one. A lot of hotly anticipated pictures kind of, you know, blew. However, not all was lost, as a number of smaller, obscure, indie pictures came out and saved the day from mediocrity. Despite seeing nineteen new releases in theaters, nineteen on video, and twenty-two on-line, they’re were still a few well-reviewed pics (“No Country for Old Men,” “I’m Not There,” etc.) and a few not-so-well reviewed ones (“The Darjeeling Limited,” “Wristcutters,” etc.) that I didn’t see. Still, on a one/ten scale, I’d rate 2007 a six. Better then average but not quite great.

Without further ado, I present THE LIST, in its completely uncensored, unedited, unfiltered, ungood, un-poof-wred form. Enjoy. Or don’t. Ah-hum.

1. Grindhouse: 4****
I love “Grindhouse” for many things. It reminded me that movie going should be an experience, allowed me to live a time I wasn’t alive for, made Kurt Russell badass again… The list goes on and on. However, now that a backlash has started due to the box office failure, what I appreciate most is how it flicks off anyone not cool enough to get it. If you didn’t all ready love grindhouse movies, this probably won’t impress you. But for aficionados, it’s a joy fest. A geek movie, made by geeks, for geeks. “Planet Terror” is hilarious fun, “Death Proof” is expertly written and I want movies to accompany those fake trailers immediately. This is undeniably the most fun I’ve had in a theater in years.

2. Behind the Mask: The Rise of Leslie Vernon: 4****
The first half is a hilarious mock-mentary that deconstructs all the rules and subtext of the slasher film subgenre brilliantly. The second half then uses everything we found out against us, crafting something that’s just as cool and scary as it is funny. The cast is great, the in-jokes plentiful, and the direction extremely clever. For a fact, “Leslie Vernon” might be the most clever film I’ve seen in some time. A treat for genre fans. And bring on the sequel!

3. Hot Fuzz: 4****
“Shaun of the Dead” made Simon Pegg, Nick Frost, and Edgar Wright a comedy team. “Hot Fuzz” proves that success wasn’t a fluke. This one is different from their first effort too. The humor builds slowly, starting out with chuckles before growing to fall out of your seat, in pain from laughing so much hilarity by the climax. The cast and direction is great and action fans will probably get a kick out of the over-the-top theatrics. To put it shortly: More films need old ladies with double barrel shotguns getting flying kicks in the face. The best comedy of the year.

4. Driftwood: 4****
An excellently written story about the lingering ramifications of cruelty. The subtext is very rich and the characters are layered and nuanced. It’s chilling because the story is so close to reality. The supporting cast is solid but Dallas Page is a little broad and Ricky Ullman is miscast, I think. After the cool “2001 Maniacs,” Tim Sullivan has graduated to horror master with this one.

5. Juno: 4****
It might seem overly quirky at first but you’ll be won over by the excellent performances, realistic characters, heartfelt script, unique musical score, and hilarious dialogue. Ellen Page continues to prove she is the best actress working today and the supporting cast, including the ever reliable J.K. Simmons, is great too. If this lovable little movie was a person, I’d want to be its best friend. And the writer wins all sorts of points for the obscure horror movie references. (Even if “Wizard of Gore” is nowhere near as good as “Suspiria.”)

6. Day Night Day Night: 4****
Feels as if a camera was dropped into the life of a girl forty-eight hours before she suicide-bombs herself in Time Square. We are told as little as possible and almost everything is up to you. The deliberate pacing leads up to an agonizingly intense final act. Lusia Williams’ anchoring performance is build entirely on mannerisms. The film is hypnotic, fascinating, and stark. I’m not sure what it means but it could quite possibly be great. Writer/director Julia Loktev has got something up her sleeve, for sure, and is certainly one to watch.

7. Paprika: 4****
This anime flick is the most visually intense, imaginative, and inventive film of the year. The story is about dreams, which more or less gave the filmmakers the chance to stop worrying about plot and instead focus on creating mind-bendingly amazing animation. It’s like “Fantasia” for the modern, adult audience.

8. Once: 4****
This “contemporary musical” about street musicians in Ireland has its greatest strengths in two things: A surprisingly good set of songs and performers behind them, and, more importantly, one of the most realistic, and heart-breaking, romances I’ve seen on screen recently. These two people fall in love, slowly, but are all ready in love with other people. As the film goes on, the usually sad music brings this point home even more. I related far more then I am comfortable with.

9. Beowulf: 4****
The motion capture isn’t perfected yet but this is still an excellent and surprisingly layered action/fantasy film. The cast is fantastic, the battle scenes are intense, and some interesting new angles are added to the old tale. Most important is the dragon sequence which might be the best sequence involving a dragon in the history of cinema.

10. Live Free or Die Hard: 4****
Follows the “Die Hard” formula to the T. Not like that’s bad, as the formula is frikin’ awesome. Bruce Willis is as badass as ever. The plot is as tight as the previous films, the action set-pieces might be the most intense of the series, and Justin Long is an amusing sidekick. Len Wiseman’s direction is occasionally shaky and Timothy Olyphant is a weak sauce villain. Still, this might be the best one yet.

11. Black Sheep: 4****
Sheep are pretty funny creatures, generally speaking. Killer sheep? Hilarious. Were-sheep? Fuhgitabotit. This follows in the proud New Zealand tradition of Peter Jackson by being a fantastically funny splatter-comedy. The cast of characters are surprisingly well realized too.

12. Bug: 4****
A creepy character drama/psychological horror film anchored by a sharp script, a fantastic performance from Michael Shannon and a pretty decent one from Ashley Judd. We find ourselves in a frightening world of paranoia in which even the smallest personal slight can be tied into a wider, insidious conspiracy… Pretty much a normal day for me.

13. The Last Mimzy: 3.5***/
The big surprise of the year. What we have here is an intelligent, very well-acted, multilayered cerebral sci-fi film that not only avoids feeling pretentious (like most cerebral sci-fi films), but has a non-forceful eco-friendly message and is suitable for the whole family.

14. The Tripper: 3.5***/
The directorial debut of David Arqutte makes a few missteps visually but is mostly a delightfully twisted slasher film and a hilarious social satire with a great cast. The scene where Ronald Reagan massacres hippies set to the tune of Reagan Youth is worth the rental price alone.

15. Black Snake Moan: 3.5***/
Thematically jumbled Southern fried character study has that unique sort of texture, charm, and, dare I say, magic, that jumbled messes can only have. The understanding of location and characters are fantastic and the two lead performances are great. What especially stands out is the use of music which is almost revolutionary. Further viewings might reveal a higher final score.

16. Halloween: 3.5***/
By completely reinventing and redefining the mythology, Rob Zombie has created the first scary “Halloween” film since the original. The attack scenes are intense and disturbing, the cast is quite good, and the story has a newfound character and reality to it. Zombie’s love of excessive profanity/sex, a rushed second act, and an overlong ending are the only weak screws.

17. American Gangster: 3.5***/
Expertly done best describes this. It’s excellent work from excellent people. The only glaring flaw is an overlong run-time. Ridley Scott’s direction is his best in years and he really should get the Oscar this time.

18. Wrong Turn 2: Dead End: 3.5***/
Everything the first movie should have been. An awesome splatter movie in addition to being a hilarious satire of reality television with vivid characters and cast, especially Henry Rollins.

19. The Host: 3.5***/
This Korean monster movie has a great cast, wonderfully written characters, a real emotional center, more then a fair share of thrills, and one of the cooler looking fish creatures in recent memory. It also has a lousy ending and an overzealous soundtrack.

20. Alien vs. Predator: Requiem: 3.3***/
Dropping monsters into a small town filled with CW style teenagers might sound retarded but this movie has some badass monster action. You see a predator and some aliens seriously rumble and messily tear up any humans unlucky enough to get in the way. It might lack the human drama and thrills of the originals but, as a fan boy movie, it delivers. And its world’s better then that abortion called “AVP.”
(I can’t really justify giving this anything above three stars but I enjoyed it too much not too. Hence the rating.)

21. Severance: 3***
Totally solid, highly entertaining horror picture with several moments of very funny dry British humor. For a fact, the grisly survival horror is balanced perfectly with comedy. We even get some good acting and social commentary, too. What’s to loose?

22. Fido: 3***
A genuinely clever idea (Zombies as pets) mixed with a great Billy Connelly performance and cute social satire make for a highly amusing parody of zombie films and the “A boy and his dog” genre.

23. Hatchet: 3***
A slasher film that acts like the “gory” days of the ‘80s never ended. The characters are underdeveloped and the story rushed, but the location’s creepy, the killer’s badass, and the death scenes feature some awesomely over-the-top gore effects.

24. Futurama: Bender’s Big Score: 3***
“Futurama” got a movie this year too, but unlike that other Matt Gorening show, it was too cool for theaters and went straight-to-DVD. Okay, it drags a bit in the middle and the bad jokes hang like dead air, but it’s just great to see this characters in new adventures after so long.

25. 1408: 3***
Creative direction and John Cusack’s strong performances drawls you into a creepy atmosphere. Not all the scare scenes hit but the movie tries to scare you on a deep, personal level and that earns “1408” a lot of kudos.

26. 300: 3***
Visually vivid and uses the CGI backgrounds to great effect but this movie is really just a bunch of mostly naked guys stabbing people and screaming “SPARTA!” That’s pretty entertaining at first but does grow tiresome after an hour. Gerard Butler gives a great performance.

27. I Am Legend: 3***
Will Smith has developed into a surprisingly good actor and while I didn’t enjoy this as much as the novel’s previous adaptation (“The Omega Man”), it’s still pretty good. It feels a little overly melodramatic in spots and some of the humor is forced. But there are several intense moments and at least it’s different from most big budget fare. And, yeah, I was totally weepy-eyed when the dog died.

28. Transformers: 3***
The direction is choppy and it should have been more focused on the robots themselves, but, considering all the worries I had during production, this is a pretty entertaining “shit-blows-up” movie that gets more things right then it does wrong.

29. Pirates of the Caribbean: At World’s End: 3***
Wraps up the franchise surprisingly well, has some nice special effects moments, and avoids many of the second film’s mistakes. Probably still too long and the middle section, with all its constant double crossing and deal breaking, is a wee confusing.

30. Ratatouille: 3***
Despite the critics’ downpour of admiration, the public’s half-heartedly positive response is the correct one. Not to say it isn’t good. There are several very funny moments, the characters are well-realized and acted, and the movie is visually impressive. However, the story is cliché and lacks the comic energy of every other Pixar movie. It’s not hilarious like it should be, especially with Patton Oswalt and Janeane Garofalo in it, and it’s not as heart-warming or involving as it could be.

31. Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix: 3***
I would compare the Harry Potter series to the James Bond franchise in that few of the films rise above the others in quality but they’re all a solidly entertaining time. This one is worth seeing just for the wizard’s duel at the end.

32. Fantastic Four: Rise of the Silver Surfer: 3***
I was one of few who liked the first “FF” but this sequel is easily superior. It fixes the first films two biggest problems: Having a better written, better paced story and making Dr. Doom the badass he should be. The Silver Surfer is awesome (As is his performer Doug Jones) and adds a lot of much needed energy. It’s still too focused on comedy.

33. TMNT: 3***
All the plot that is the turtles and their family affairs is awesome and gets everything right. The rest of the plot is somewhat less awesome. The visuals are impressive if too video game-y. And I hated the soundtrack. Still the best representation of the characters on-screen yet.

34. I Know Who Killed Me: 3***
Overlooked and looked-down-on due to its skank star’s off-screen antics but is a good attempt at an American giallo. (Look it up.) Chris Sivertson’s direction is gorgeous and the music is great. The plot is convoluted which is typical of the sub-genre. And you know what? Lindsay is actually pretty decent in the lead.

35. Ghost Rider: 3***
An energetic, appropriately goofy, superhero movie with fun action scenes and quirky performances. Well, except for Wes Bentley. He’s awful.

36. Vacancy: 3***
A competent thriller that, why it doesn’t really do anything new, is never boring. A good rental.

37. Aqua Teen Hunger Force Colon Movie Film for Theaters: 3***
I can’t believe this was actually made, much less released to legitimate theaters. It’s basically an R-rated, 86-minute long episode of the show. So the humor is spread out a little more but just as funny. And it’s certainly just as fucking bizarre as the show’s fan will expect.

38. Wind Chill: 3***
This character-driven ghost story gets good mileage out of its creepy snowbound setting and solid lead performances. Sadly, all that build-up tension is squandered by the silly climax and dower ending. Still, give this one a rental as it was unfairly overlooked in theaters.

39. 28 Weeks Later…: 3***
The protagonist shift halfway through hurts what is otherwise a pretty decent sequel, with the good acting, direction, music and all. It maintains at least some of the first movie’s sense of panic. But I don’t think “28 Months Later…” needs to be made.

40. Roman: 3***
A reverse version of “May,” in which director Lucky McKee stars and actress Angela Bettis directs. Neither is bad but they should stick with to their day jobs anyway. An interesting experiment in characters and themes but only has so much to offer. It’s probably too slow and too weird for non-fans.

41. Disturbia: 3***
As a modern day, teenage version of “Rear Window,” this works pretty well, with good performances, funny writing, and decent direction. Not particularly original, but entertaining and it could have been a lot worse.

42. DOA: Dead or Alive: 2.5**/
I saw this back in November of ’06 when copies first leaked online. I vaguely remember it being a pretty fun, cheesy action film with hot ladies and a sense of humor. Considering it’s based on a video game, that’s pretty good. I would have loved it when I was eight.

43. Southland Tales: 2.5**/
The good things are the esoteric cast, the hypnotic music, the twisted humor, and the sense of poetry throughout. The bad thing is the convoluted plot which crushes the film. And it’s not like you can ignore the plot and just take the movie as an experiment because so much time is devoted to explaining the story. Oh, well. It was almost good.

44. Eastern Promises: 2.5**/
I wish they’d give Dave Cronenberg an Oscar all ready so he can stop making blatantly mainstream awards bait like this and get back to awesome horror. Viggo Mortensen’s performance is fantastic but the movie even ruins that with a stupid plot twist towards the end. And, yes, you see his balls.

45. Murder Party: 2.5**/
Works better as a satire of pretentious hipsters and the college art scene then as a horror comedy. This is a feature version of a short film and the amount of filler makes that far too obvious. Despite some funny dialogue, decent performances, and solid special effects, the premise is better then the movie as a whole.

46. Meet the Robinsons: 2.5**/
The interesting characters aren’t developed and the ones that are developed aren’t interesting. There’s an attempt at some Classical Disney Drama at the end but it just comes off feeling out of place. There are several funny moments and the filmmakers get points for actually casting Tom Selleck.

47. The Simpsons Movie: 2.5**/
Admittedly funnier then the shows been in the past eight years, which is to say it has a handful of laughs. But did we really have to see Bart’s dangle?

48. The Number 23: 2.5**/
I was diggin’ this paranoid thriller, with its cool direction, good performances, and interestingly different plot, up until the reveal, which was sadly predictable, and the cop-out conclusion that betrays all the themes and mood that came before.

49. 30 Days of Night: 2.5**/
The central concept’s awesome, I love how the vampires are handled, and the acting’s pretty decent, even Josh Harnett. Two things keep this from being a potentially great fright film. The awful shaky-cam direction of the formally reliable David Slade ruins all the scare scenes and I’m just tired of horror films that are all doom, gloom, and no fun.

50. The Mist: 2**
The creature effects were neat and the writing’s decent. But the religious zealot character was seriously annoying, in addition to being an overplayed cliché, and the ending was unnecessarily bleak.

51. Shrek the Third: 2**
Has just enough funny moments towards the end to barely squeak by. The “Shrek” films have gone from being a hilarious summer surprise to being another tired, over exposed Hollywood franchise.

52. War: 2**
Considering this movie’s whole selling point was Jet Li vs. Jason Statham, the two chase after each other more then anything else. At the end, when they do fight, the confrontation is disappointingly short. There are some decent action set pieces, like an above average sword fight and car chase, but the plot is confusing and the direction borderline awful.

53. Spider-Man 3: 2**
You know all the little problems the first two “Spider-Man” films had but you could overlook because everything else was so right? Those problems have blossomed into huge issues. An overstuffed plot, listless performances, and far too much trite drama has ruined Spider-Man.

54. The Hills Have Eyes II: 2**
Nastier then part one with the same quality gore and acting but the shaky-cam direction, trying-to-hard musical score, and weak script make for a generally unsatisfying horror experience.

55. Hostel: Part II: 2**
Same plot and characters as the first. Only difference is they're girls, trading in blatant homophobia for blatant misogyny. The business aspect is interesting, the finale is somewhat plausible this time, and there's some dark humor. Still, mostly boring and not as violent or disturbing as it thinks it is.

56. Mad Cowgirl: 2**
An unstable girl gets mad cow disease. She then goes crazy and kills some people with her rad kung-fu skills. Not as stupid/awesome as it sounds. Decent performances and cool music but this transgressive horror/comedy/drama just isn’t very good.

57. Wild Hogs: 2**
A routine, cliché studio comedy that has maybe one or two funny moments. Considering it stars the humor sucking black holes that are Tim Allen and Martin Lawrence, that’s actually a compliment.

58. Dead Silence: 2**
I’ll give James Wan this. After “Saw” he could have done any number of torture films. Instead, he did an old fashion ghost story. Shame it isn’t any better. The plot is contrived, the characters stupid as shit, the acting below par, and the “twist” is completely incoherent.

59. Balls of Fury: 2**
The cast is so much better then this relatively stupid, sporadically entertaining spoof of kung-fu and sports film deserves. Christopher Walken and Diedrich Bader manage to wrangle some laughs out of the material but there’s not much else to report here.

60. Reeker: 2**
A few potentially interesting ideas are trapped inside this painfully dull and mediocre horror film. Too much obvious CGI, annoying rock video editing, and a ridiculously stupid twist ending are included within.

61. Hannibal Raising: 2**
Gaspard Ulliel was so not up to the job. He’s laughably bad. The rest is a standard, mediocre revenge story that does nothing to build upon the tired Hannibal character.

62. Unholy: 2**
This very silly, convoluted, supernatural thriller features clumsy dialogue and stars a still sexy Adrienne Barbeau, who was probably just happy to get a lead role, and a doughy Nicholas Brendon, who probably owed somebody money.

63. The Reaping: 1.5*/
An attempt to do a classy studio produced demonic horror film, of the like we haven’t seen since the seventies. However, that kind of film needs a subtle director that’ll slowly build an atmosphere of mounting dread. Sadly, this is just another dumb, loud, stock-and-shock horror film with a stupid story and not one, but two!, insulting twist endings.

64. Because I Said So: 1.5*/
Why did I rent this? Because Michael “Heathers” Lehmann directed it and Lauren “Gilmore Girls” Graham co-stars? It takes the usual rom-com formula but makes it worse by adding obnoxious characters and awful slapstick.

65. The Hitcher: 1*
Takes a minor classic from the eighties, sucks out all the soul and subtext of the original and replaces it with an obnoxious MTV slickness.

66. Epic Movie: .5
This is literally just like a porno movie parody without the porn. Why did I rent this? Because of Crispin Glover? Because Jayma Mays is cute? Because I wanted to see something worse then “The Hitcher?” Words really don’t do the awfulness of this movie justice.

Take that, once again. The world might have just ended but you wouldn’t have known because you were too busy reading that. Ha.

As for this year, two-naught-naught-eight, my most anticipated films are:

1. The Diary of the Dead
2. Choke
3. Iron Man
4. The Lovely Bones
5. Synecdoche, New York
6. Hellboy II: The Golden Army
7. Embodiment of Evil
8. Indiana Jones and the Kingdom of the Crystal Skull
9. Star Trek
10. Midnight Meat Train

Other upcoming motion pictures of interest are as follows:
2001 Maniacs: The Beverly Hellbillies, All the Boys Love Mandy Lane, Babylon AD,
Be Kind Rewind, Body of Lies, Bolt, Burn After Reading, Cabin Fever 2, Cloverfield,
Charlie Bartlett, The Chronicles of Narnia: Prince Caspian, The Dark Knight,
The Dead Sleep Easy, Doomsday, Hancock, The Happening, Haunted World of El Superbeasto, The Incredible Hulk, Inkheart, Johnny Got His Gun, The Lost, Mamma Mia!, Mary, Mirrors,
The Mummy 3, My Name is Bruce, The Other Boleyn Girl, Rambo, Red, Reservation Road, Return to Sleepaway Camp, Rogue, The Ruins, The Signal, Speed Racer, The Strangers, Stuck, Teeth, The Third Mother, The Tracy Fragments, Trailer Trash, Trick r’ Treat, Valkyrie, and WALL-E.

Yes, I realize how much time I must have on my hands. And, once again, I thank you and apologize to you for reading. So, should I not be murdered or an atomic cataclysm take place, I will see you here, this time next year, same blog channel, same blog place. Thank you.

current mood: moody

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Monday, December 3rd, 2007
8:15 pm - I'm out of good ideas...
Semester will be over very, very soon. Sadly, my new schedule blows the dicks of crusty, old, white British guys. As it turns out, we were suppose to get all of this stuff dealt with two weeks ago. But, you know, not like anybody ever fucking bothers to announce this shit anywhere. So, basically, yet another semester will go by without me getting my stupid math credits out of the way. And I'll only have classes on Tuesday because I have to work around my Mom's schedule. (Yeah, yeah, I know, get a fucking license. Don't act like I don't hear that all the time.) I think its English II and some other fucking class I can't remember the name of, history maybe. And I've got another on-line class and I just can't fucking wait to see how well that shit turns out.

So, basically, there all ready isn't much of a reason to look forward to '08. And, you know, film offerings for the forecoming year are looking kind of weak too. I'm thinking all of the best stuff is yet to be announce.

Speaking of movies, my end of the year FILM RETROSPECTIVE will be done as soon as I see the three films coming out in December that might actually be good. (Oh, yeah, and "Sweeney Todd" too because Mom wants to see it.) So watch out for that in late December/early January.

And, as this year comes to a close, you know what that means, right? NEW YEAR RESOLUTION! Let's see, what did I promise myself at the end of last year?

Yes. I've kept up with updating Thad, have been doing more awful poetry because of my Creative Writing class, and, should the month continue like I hope it will, should break my standard of three screenplays a year by a whooping improvement of one. So, yeah! See, ladies? I keep promises!



Fuck you. I mean, seriously, fuck you. You know what? I'm going to leave these guys off my list this year just so I won't disappoint myself come December of oh-eight.

Oh, right. So, how about some brand new resolutions, hmm?

Because I should. It's good for the brain, you know? And I have all those book piling up in my bedroom that really need reading.

And that's it. Not that there aren't any bad habits I need to break or goals I need to reach, but I don't want to put pressure on my self by writing things down. It's call Reverse-Psychology. You peeps in Psych class might know about that if, you know, they actually taught shit that was interesting in psych class instead of just rehashing all that garbage you learned in Human Anatomy class for no apparently good reason. Oh, yeah, that reminds me, I do have a second resolution.

Fuck you, Blue Ridge CTC! Fuck you for wasting my time and squandering my self-confidence! My mad independent filmmaker career is going to take off this year and I am totally going to leave behind your sorry ass! HA-HA!

That is all. Aquaman fucking sucks a duck. For real.

current mood: cranky

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Friday, November 23rd, 2007
12:35 am - A swan is nothing but a gay turkey...
So, the people who read this journal might be wondering where I've been the past four months. Well, if you must know: Myspace. See I have friends here and there too and maintained the same blog for both sites. But this past summer, I guess I just got tired of updating two blogs and more or less dropped this one. But some friendly baiting has convinced me to reinstate the old ways and start updating here as well.

For those interested in reading all the exciting action you might have missed over the past four months, here's the link to my blog on that other site: http://blog.myspace.com/index.cfm?fuseaction=blog.ListAll&friendID=32305980

For those who don't feel like shifting through all the bullshit just to get one or two interesting nuggets, I'll summerize:

Summer was more or less depressing for me for no in-particular reason. This semester I've been taking Psychology, Speech, and Creative Writing. It's been pretty easy though Psych hasn't been the smooth sailing I hoped for. Through no outward effort of my own, I've manage to make some new friends. And, no, I don't know if that's a good thing. I've seen many films this year and, surprisingly, some of them are actually good.

Also, please take a hike on over to my DeviantArt page and read what I've written there: http://bonehead-xl.deviantart.com/ Won'cha please? No one else has.

You didn't miss much. But I figured it didn't hurt to try anyway.

Now, excuse me, I have to vomit.

current mood: groggy

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Wednesday, June 20th, 2007
12:22 am - Beware the rats with the red eyes...
Just got back from my cousin David's wedding. He hitched Sara, his long-time girlfriend. The ceremony was nice. It was outdoors and luckily it stopped raining long enough to get all the "I-dos" out. Then dinner took too long, but was it pretty good. I didn't get to talk to David as much as I would have liked to. Oh, well.

Anyway, some of you are probably curious about my film making workshop last week. I enjoyed myself quite a bit. At first I was worried. There were only three of us in the class and the first thing we did was one of those horrible "Getting-to-know-you" sheets. It was real grade school. Luckily, as soon as I sat down and started talking to the guys, things evened out. The others were Jason and Josh. Jason looks like a director, with his mighty facial hair and flannel. He's younger then me though. He brought in this short he made, "Neon." It was actually very well done. Guy's got the stuff. And I definitely made a friend in Josh. He's only fourteen but in the tenth grade, runs his own web designing site (And will be designing my site for me. Look for it, deadcelebritypro.com, in the near future!), and within five minutes of holding it can tell you everything about a camera. I guess you'd call him gifted. He can get a bit intense at times though. Anyway, Tuesday this real life lighting technician came in and showed us the ropes on such things. I can't remember the guy's name but he was pretty awesome and I learned a lot. He worked on some of John Water's films (which I totally geeked out about) and just got done working on "National Treasure II." Finally on Thursday and Friday we went into Martinsberg and started filming. The gist is that each of us were to make a five minute short a local historical landmark of our choice. Our class teamed up with the morning class during these days. I gave each of the A-class students a humiliating nickname. Dylan, the skater kid who fancied himself a auteur, became Neck-Beard. Trevor, who was pretty funny and could pull off some seriously slick card tricks, became Skeeter. And Devon, who was annoying and mostly useless, become That Other Kid. Anyway, me and Josh covered exteriors on Thursday and Friday morning before I got to film my short that afternoon. I did the Apollo Theater in town. Though my goal was to cover the history of the place over all, I think the focus quickly turned to the supposed hauntings in the building. The main chuck of the film will be taken up by an interview with the president of the current company, who was named Mike Something. I sat him down and interview him Errol Morris style, real intense like, while my B-team got some very specific exploration footage of the wonderful attic and basement. I hope that footage turned out well, I haven't seen it yet. Lightening was a bitch to set up and I still didn't get it perfect but we only had two lights to work with and the Apollo is a big place. I really loved it though. I was seriously pumped the whole time. I really do want to direct for the rest of my life. I guess I just like to boss people around. Haha.

Ms. Ryan, she was the teacher, is setting it up so at least me and Josh can sit in on the editing. I mean, that's a must. It's when the movie comes together. I was there for the conception, got to be there for the birth. I have a very definite vision in mind that could easily be misinterpreted. We should have the DVDs ready by the end of summer, I'll try and get copies to anyway that wants one. The whole thing made me realize I need to stop procrastinating and start making movies of my own. "Make movies, not excuses" so says Jason Scott Ritter and he's right. I need to look into local Rent-A-Centers and see what they have as far as cameras/lights/booms go. I have this script, "Down and Out in West Virginia," that I can probably film pretty easily as there's only two characters. (and I plan on playing one.) I'm hoping to have that done by summer. Hopefully.

I probably exerted myself Friday and ended up staying up far later then I wanted because Chris had to come over and stay 'til four in the morning. 'Cause he's a dork. So I've been sick since Saturday. Oh, well. Do the crime, pay the time.

Nothing much else to report. No "Thad" this week because I'm a douche. I did post some horrible poetry at my FictionPress and DeviantArt accounts that I'd love to get some feedback on. Hint, hint. Oh, and apparently my birthday is next Sunday. Somehow that got away from me.

And let's exit on this nugget of wisdom: "Nobody's really crazy, doctor. We're just all on vacation."

current mood: curious

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Friday, June 8th, 2007
9:20 pm - Your breasts are friendly and unpretenious...
So... What's up Zack? Hmm? Really? That's very interesting.

Caroline called you a while ago, you say? And you still haven't called her back? That's not a very friend-like thing to do. Ah, you realize that. Well, I know she made an active promise to call you a couple times recently, especially after you ended up seeing "Pirates 3" in the same theater as her. Small world. Why wouldn't you response? Could it be because your bitter because she always takes so long to get back to you? Or perhaps because you fear their might still be some unresolved feelings there? Have you told your other journal readers that she was casted in the lead in an independent film recently? You were insanely jealous. Still are? Ha. Why don't you just get off your lazy fucking ass and call? What the hell's wrong with you? Oh. You don't have an answer for that one.

Your cousin Christina set you up on a blind-date with a friend of her's daughter, you say? That's good! And she's cute too? Bonus! Anything official yet? Ah, of course not. And Chris wants you to sleep with one of his co-workers? And she's cute too? Hot damn! You should be pleased! Aren't you? He doesn't know.

You haven't posted the new chapter of Thad Gunter yet, I've noticed. You're working on it? Don't lie to the good people. "It'll be done when it's done." Coward. And it looks like you've failed to get your permit again. Shit, now I know why your depressed.

That film thing starts Monday. Excited? Good. At least your pleased with something in your life.

It appears as if Zack doesn't want to talk anymore. He wants to kick back and watch anime on the internet. What's geekier then that? We don't want to talk to him anyway.

current mood: blah

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Sunday, May 20th, 2007
11:41 pm - This is here for no reason...
Experience the Thad Gunter experience here: http://www.fictionpress.com/s/2352036/1/

It roxers your boxers. Promise.

I'm going to film school in June. This is spectacular.

I passed Algebra with a C. This is also spectacular. I have a C in English, a D in Crit. Think., and completely, totally bombed out of my online class. This is slightly somewhat less spectacular. I also have a grill, with which I can grill meat. And other stuff, too. I guess.

"Spider-Man 3" was bogus. "Shrek 3" was better, but still mostly bogus. "Pirates 3" will probably be bogus, too. "Fido" and "Black Sheep" however are very not bogus. See them instead.

My house is being invaded by centipedes. They crawl into your ear and lay eggs in your brain while you sleep. I fear I am all ready infected.

That is all.

current mood: frustrated

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Friday, May 4th, 2007
1:38 am - Yeah, I'm talking to you, Guy...
Let's play "Good News! Bad News."

Good News! I sent Tiffany an apology. Let's hope I can put this behind me.

Bad News. My algebra final is Tuesday and I am so not fucking ready.

Good News! I've actually talked to David Macintyre about my adaptation of "The Final Step." He is receptive to the idea but wants to read the script first. So I sent it his way but he has yet to respond. Which worries me. Which might make this more bad news.

Bad News. My Critical Thinking final paper is Monday and I haven't even started yet.

Good News! Umm... Uh... "Hot Fuzz" was really funny.

Bad News. I also have all this other algebra homework that I'm not sure I can finish. Basically, I'm screwed when it comes to algebra.

Good News! Summer nears and with it new opportunities.

Bad News. Summer nears and with it, fulfilling the promise I made to get both a license and a job.

Good News! I'll probably pass English.

Bad News. Uma gave me a tick. And I think she has fleas.

Good News! I'm not dead. Yet.

Bad News. "Live Free or Die Hard" will probably be rated PG-13. What the fuck?

That's it for our show tonight. Join us next week were Zack will fight a fire-breathing dragon made completely of pork!

current mood: anxious

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Sunday, April 22nd, 2007
7:01 pm - It's about time we all get some new hobbies...
Just got back from North Carolina earlier today. It was a fine visit. Got to see Quinn a lot. He is a beautiful little baby and I'm proud to call myself his uncle. Not too much else happened, but it's always nice to see my sister and get out of the house.

Chapter three of "Thad Gunter" is done. However, it is also too long to post on a blog. I've uploaded the first chapter over at Media Miner and it will also be up on Fiction Press as soon as possible. To avoid confusion with any new readers, I've decided to restart the upload schedule. Sorry if the wait pisses anybody off. (Even though that is unlikely.) The story will reach a wider audience this way, in theory anyway, and I'll post links to the new chapters as they're released.

Saw "Grindhouse" a while ago. It was spectacular. Reminded me why I love going to the movies in the first place. The "Planet Terror" half was funny and giddily enjoyable, but I found "Death Proof" to be the far more nuanced and better made of the two films. The fake trailers were hilarious. That's all I'll say for now.

I've come to a decision lately. Anyone not interested in girl-related musing should exit the theater now. I've decided to write Tiffany another letter, but I plan to out myself, just come clean about the stupid thing I did. (You know the thing.) It's unfair to dangle this mystery of who the writer of the letter was over her face, even though I doubt it bothers her much. It'll be a way for me to move on and get over the past. You know that's one of my long-term goals. If nothing else it'll make me feel better about it. I don't expect anything else to come of it. (Though by saying that, I instantly validate the belief in my mind that something might come off it. Fnord.) At the moment I'm fairly certain that my attraction to her was more due to her physical beauty burning a hole into my artistic center then it was anything else. That counts for something, but I'm not sure how much. I'm doing this because I had a dream in which I told her. And even though she chewed me out for it and called me an asshole, while wearing a gorgeous red silk clinging dress by the way, I still felt better when I awoke. My dreams speak to me. I'm convinced they are more then just random synapses firing in the unconscious brain. They come from... some other place. I feel they are vague road signs, perhaps planted by God, that are suppose to lead us to where ever it is we're going, spiritually speaking. And if I don't do it, I'll feel like a coward. Self-fulfilling prophecy, you know?

Besides, I'm pretty burnt out on the whole romance thing for the moment anyway. I don't have any girl present on a regular basis to really obsess over so while my days are passionless, they are also painless and that is sometimes preferable. I'm trying to figure out what to do with my life and passionate, romantic, sexual love, though something I deeply long for, might be more of a distraction now then anything else.

I'm finished. Good night and good luck.

current mood: drained

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Wednesday, April 11th, 2007
7:13 pm - Any resemblance to a real human being is completely coincidental...
Yeah, so, uh, "Thad Gunter" is bi-weekly now. And, um, no, I don't have the third chapter done yet. Sue me. Please.

Man, school fucking pisses me off. I got a tutor for math, right? Cute little chubby chipmunk like girl named Grace. It was going well. I think I actually passed this week's test. My goal was to catch up on all the test I missed and/or skipped and hopefully that would pull my grade up enough. Well, I got an e-mail this morning. Gracie can't tutor me anymore because she is just too overwrought with sorrow following the death of Anna Nicole-Smith... No, wait, she just has too much schoolwork. I mean, fuuuuccck! This is the second tutor to drop me. What the hell? Do I smell funny or something? So now I don't know what the hell I'm going to do. I think the short of it is I'm not going to pass my first semester with this algebra fiasco and that whole on-line thing. Hell, I'm not even sure I'm going to pass English as I can't get motivated at all to write this week's essay assignment. College is hard, dudes. I told everyone it wasn't a good idea. I'm just like the kid in '50s sci-fi/horror film. No one fucking listens to me and then they get their heads eaten by a giant grasshopper.

You know, "Sleepaway Camp" is not a particularly good movie. It's really campy, almost to the point were it's not enjoyable. I think the only reason it's remember today is for the twist ending. But, man, it's sequels rock. Especially part two which can now sit among such glamorous titles as "The Burning," "The Prowler" and "Friday the 13th: The Final Chapter" as one of my favorite eighties slasher movies. Pamela Springsteen, Bruce's little sister, stars as the killer, Angela, and she's hilarious. She's got this cheery, can-do attitude, even when chopping up kids with a chainsaw. She's like my old pal Samantha Barrack except with more homicidal tendencies. And the one-liners! (Oblivious victim ask, "What are you reaching for? A gun?" To which Angela replies "No, a drill.") Miss Springsteen can hang out with Jessica Harper, Angela Bettis, and Adrian Barbeau as one of my favorite scream queens now. A lot things about the movie is hilarious. The whole thing is like a light parody of the general values of the eighties. And the sequel delivers on the first film's promise of gratuitous nudity and fucked-up death scenes. Any movie were a character is drown in the outhouse stall gets my "Fucked-up death scene" approval. Part III is pretty good too though the gore is heavily compromised by The MPAA. And it doesn't really wrap much up. Which might be why two more films are in development now. Except those films are disregarding two and three, won't feature Pamela Springsteen, and are picking up from the first film. Which is lame.

I'm not sure why I brought this up. Guess it was just on my mind. You probably have no idea what I'm talking about do you? I guess going into a rant about the fucking "Sleepaway Camp" movies, lowest of horror films franchises, is pretty dorky. (Actually that's really not true. I'd wager the "Witchcraft," "Slumber Party Massacre," and "Killer Toys" franchises are probably lower on the horror totem pole then the "Sleepaway Camp" movies. At least people actually like this movies as I can't think of a single person who digs all those soft-porn-y "Witchcraft" sequels.) I mean, this is how the conversations in my head go. Seriously. It's just obscure eighties horror movies all day long. Well, that and about four hours of old "Cosby Show" reruns. Oh well, I ain't got much to hide. Well, maybe the fact that I do still have both my legs, despite what I have people believing on the Musselman High School MySpace message board. Shhhhh, don't ruin it, please.

Anyway, this post is pretty arbitrary. Figured I'd just drop a rant in seeing as how I haven't said anything in almost two weeks.

And, no, I haven't seen "Grindhouse" yet. Don't spoil the ending(s) for me.

current mood: Mildly ticked-off

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Wednesday, March 14th, 2007
6:40 pm - Chuck Palahniuk plagarizes from everyone and everyone plagiarizes from Chuck Palahniuk...
So, I've been sick all week. A bad cold. (As opposed to a good cold?) Mucus was everywhere. Despite this, I don't have quite as much to bitch about as I usually do. Actually, I'm doing all right at the moment.

I'm going to have to get another math tutor because the one I had signed up with dropped me. Crap, why do I even fucking try?

My brand new computer monitor is being stupid. The image keeps getting blurry. It'll get worse for, like, twenty minutes before fixing itself again. At first, spraying all the over the monitor and computer with compressed air seem to work but that's not doing it anymore. So who the fuck knows?

Finally catching up with movies. I've seen five so far! *Burp* "The Host" was rad. "Smokin' Aces" was better then expected. "Ghost Rider" was fun. "Hannibal Raising" was mediocre but not as bad as I thought it would be. "The Hitcher" remake sucked. Seeing "300" this weekend. Maybe if I'm lucky I can catch "Behind the Mask: The Rise of Leslie Vernon" too, if I can find it. "TMNT" in a week. Whoo! I have no life and am damn proud of it.

Anyway, I wrote this.



Chapter 2: Please and Bank You

Having thoroughly washed himself of all his icky yellow goo-puke and all his icky green goo-crap, Isaac Thaddeus "Thad" Edgar Gunter III stepped out of the shower. In the process of walking across the floor to the sink, he caught a glimpse of himself in the mirror. Because of a sudden time-warp across his bathroom, he hadn't noticed how much his body changed had while he was washing. Thad looked his new glistening wet body up and down. His nicely rounded muscular arms, a firm six-pack, rock solid shoulders, a chin worthy of George Clooney and Bruce Campbell’s bastard child, and, to top it all off, a ridiculously long penis. With this perfect physique, Thad looked like something out of a gay porn film. (Not that The Author knows what those look like. Ahem.) So impressed he was with his new form, Thad began to contort his body into several different poses, similar to those regularly preformed by the muscle-bound freaks in those horrible body building contest you occasionally see late at night in the deep trenches of cable.

Thad was so enamored of himself that he didn’t notice how slippery the floor was. So enamored he was that he didn’t even notice when his feet began to loose traction with the surface of the floor. He only became aware of the situation when the fall forced his vision to focus on something besides his glistening pectorals. What he found himself focusing on instead was the toilet bowl seat quickly approaching his face. Before he knew what to do, Thad had cracked his jaw on the hard porcelain surface of the commode.

Twenty minutes later, Thad awoke. He was not faced with the vision of a flux capacitor; conversely, the droll bathroom ceiling was facing him. After rubbing the sore spot on his perfect chin, Thad began to take in the importance of these events. Despite being gifted with a beautiful new body through the wonders of Modern Vomit, it was best not to overly focus on it or to be even narcissistic in his study of his new form. To put it subsequently: Don’t be an asshole. It was a great lesson in humility for all.


First Thad fitted himself in a fine black suit that he hadn’t worn in thirteen years since his Great-Aunt’s funeral, which only fit through the power of plot holes. He then gathered up some old pictures of his precious Helen Maria Rudwalnagirctekahs so he would be able to inform the guilty party, when he finally encountered them, what innocence it had corrupted.

Secondly, Thad stumbled around his front yard in an entirely different attempt at a second chapter which The Author discarded because it was, quote, “Not stupid enough.” (Ed. Note: What’s more egotistical then quoting yourself? Add. Ed. Note: Answer: Providing editorial notes to your own story.) Stepping outside was initially a shock for Thad, as he hadn’t faced direct sunlight for quite some time. For a second, he even considered the possibility that the Miracles of Modern Vomit actually transformed him into a vampire and that he was about to burst into flames. After this didn’t happen, he figured the light sensitivities were probably a result of being inside for so fucking long. After thoroughly searching the front yard for a vehicle, discovering an abandoned Volkswagen Bug, and fighting off the family of rabid raccoons that had taken up residence in the backseat, Thad realizes he didn’t have any car keys with him and probably couldn’t remember how to drive anyway. He opted to walk instead.


“I don’t like vaginas, so much.”

This was the first thing Thad heard when he stepped into the bank in town.

“Too many folds, I guess. I’m afraid loose something in there.”

A crazy, slightly overweight, brown haired young man in ducky pajamas was saying this to the bank clerk who just looked at him with a begrudging sort of pity.

The clerk responded, “Man, what kind of girls have you been looking at?”

Thad walked up to the clerk’s desk, pushing aside the obnoxious pipsqueak, and slammed his fist down on the counter, obviously trying to drawl attention to himself.

“Hello, Bank Clerk, I am Isaac Thaddeus "Thad" Edgar Gunter the Third, and I need to withdraw some money from your fine banking establishment.”

The clerk, a man obviously embittered by the cold, hard claws of minimum wage, looked down at Thad with much the same contempt he had previously given the clueless asshole.

“Photo I.D., please.” The cynical clerk quipped.

Thad’s only reasonable response was, “Wha?”

And right at that moment, the front door to the bank exploded open. Into the building a crazed looking man step in. He was dressed in a green skin tight leather jumpsuit, which clung to his copious layers of fat, and a black trench coat which contain far too many guns then any body should physically be able to carry. His red hair was sticking out in all direction and his neck seemed to constantly be bulging out with veins. A stylized silver death’s head icon was drawn on his chest and a pair of dog tags hung around his neck. In his hand, he grasped a ridiculously, impossibly large handgun.

The strange man began to bellow at the top of lungs, “I AM THE VINDICATOR, COCK SUCKERS! I DEMAND VINDICATION!”

The Clueless Asshole, still sitting on his shore ass after being pushed to the floor by Thad, responded first.

“What the hell’s your problem?”

The Vindicator screamed, “ARGGGH! PISS JERKER!!!” before shooting the asshole in the leg, causing him to scream and bleed all over the place.


The Clueless Asshole, still grasping at his leg wound, asks another clueless question, clueless-ly. “What did we do to you?”

The Vindicator stood in silence for a moment, his eyes twitching nervously. Because he obviously didn’t know any other way to respond, he ran over and shot the Asshole in the head, splattering the poor foolish boy’s brains all over the bank desk.

Eventually, the crazed not-so-thinly-veiled-parody-of-a-Popular-Marvel-Anti-Hero furiously spat, “YOU FURTHER AMERICAN CAPITALISM! DICK LICKER! RRRAARRR!”

Thad was completely disgusted by this vulgar display and decided to make his opinion known. “Sir, I think you need to calm down.”

Another vein protruded hideously from the barely contained ball of rage’s neck before he turned his wrath towards Thad.


Thad, trying to be polite, though the mad man’s poorly maintained dental hygiene made it difficult, reiterated, expanding on his opinions,

“I think you need to relax, sir. You obviously feel a lot of anger towards the world. I think you need to channel your aggression into a more constructive form of release, as opposed to just randomly killing. Perhaps painting would be good for you. Or martial arts. Taking a look at your leather jumpsuit, I’d say you could stand to loose a few pounds, Mr. The Vindicator.”

The Vindicator looked at Thad, confused. Slobber began to dribble from the side of his mouth as he considered the words. The insane individual spoke softly.

“You know, I always liked to paint.”

Thad smiled, satisfied, “Don’t you feel better know?”

Before The Vindicator could respond though, the left side of his face was torn apart by a sudden shotgun blast. The suddenly faceless thinly-veiled-parody-of-a-Popular-Marvel-Anti-Hero fell to the floor, writhing in pain, as blood pour from the exposed muscles that now twitched uncontrollably for all the world to see. It would have been an incredibly painful experience for the would-be vigilante, if, when he fell, all the guns and other assorted objects of mal intent hidden in his trench coat hadn’t have gone off simultaneously. A thousand bullets and other various projectiles tour through his body all at once. Soon, millions of exit wounds formed over his body, splattering small dollops of blood with every release. After seconds, the small holes quickly grew into larger ones, allowing punctured, fleshy organs to fly free from their internal chambers and sail through the air where they would fall to the wet floor with a disgusting sploosh. The fall also triggered several small explosive inside the coat, which also ripped through the Vindicator’s body. The blast torn limps from sockets, also causing them to sail through the air and land to the ground with similar splooshes. Within near minutes of falling, the formerly very, very angry young man had been reduced to a steaming pile of bleeding flesh, barely recognizable as a human body.

Thad, shocked and appalled by this, turned to see what had caused this horrible event to come to be.

Standing on top of the bank desk was the Clerk, a smoking shotgun partially covered in duck tape in hand. The Clerk, in pure macho excitement over his first kill, punch himself in the face and let out a resounding, “YA-HOO!” before discreetly sitting back down at his chair.

Thad, more then a little upset, expressed his concern. “What the hell did you just do?”

The clerk looked down at him the same way he did earlier before asking, “I asked for some photo I.D. Do you have one or not? You can’t take all day. You know, the bank has other customers.”

Thad, gulped before whispering, in defeat, “No.”


current mood: sick

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Thursday, March 1st, 2007
4:19 am
Strange rumblings on this March night... (Morning?) I'm finding myself in a late night daze again, like I often do anymore. I should just go to bed. I would compare my state of mind now to that of a long-time alcoholic who finds himself in a mild drunken state, too conscious to be oblivious to the obvious sickness of the scenario but too tired to actually do anything about it but mope. God... Does anybody else talk like this when they're strung-out?

My mind always goes to the girls at this time. Always. Did I ever tell you that Tiffany's sister wrote me back? Let me clarify. You may recall how some time last summer I wrote a very detailed long letter to Tiffany Durkin (That's right. Bleed it out for everyone to see.), detailing how I had become rather obsessed with her. Promise me, it's less creepy then it sounds. (Okay, probably not.) Anyway, about two months ago now, her sister Josie wrote me back, saying how she thought the letter was beautiful and how she wanted to be my friend. How the fuck do you response to that? For a long time, I considered writing her back but I was far too depressed about college that month to be constructive. (That really hasn't changed, by the way.) Now I fear too much time has passed. Not that I really wanted to write her back in the first place. Beyond the original feeling of "Oh my God, someone actually read the damn thing." I didn't really have a whole lot to say to her besides perhaps, "Thanks for the kind words and no, we can't be friends. So... How's your sister?" And imagine me saying that last part in the most lecherous voice possible. Now I don't think I'm ever going to. Unless, by some chance, me and Tiffany end up sharing an apartment together in a very sitcom-esque scenario, canned laughter included. You might recall a post a while ago about me bumping into Tiffany and her boyfriend at the supermarket and how the meeting sent me into one of the worst anxiety attacks I've had in recent memory. So I obviously still have a boner for the poor girl. So, the point of all of this is... Um... I think it's that I think it's weird that her sister wrote me and I have no fucking clue what I should do about, because my response, no matter what, is going to be weird too. And I still want to fuck Tiffany. Everybody clear on this? Now, let's hope for boyfriend doesn't find this, hunt me down, and punch me in the balls. Not like that would be a completely unreasonable response...

And then there's the fact that I am still very much obsessed with Kelly Sharp. You know her, I've mentioned her before. I've been trying to track this girl down for two years now. I even talked to a fucking P.I. about it, if you can fucking believe that. But I'm not even sure I want to find her now. I mean, she's probably ran off and gotten married and had seventeen kids like seemingly every other girl I went to high school with has. If I were to actually find her, and say we met and had coffee or whatever the hipster thing is to do. Excluding the possibility that we would immediately start making out and fuck right there on the table, I would probably discover that whatever she's become over the years is nothing like the idealized young girl forever burned into the back of my skull. Do I want to shatter that idealized bubble? Is the destination really more important then the quest? I don't think so anymore. It's like "Memento," sort of. Except the acting probably isn't as good. Still, I'll keep looking for her. To stop would be to invalidate all the time I've wasted, even if the goal, if it is in fact approaching and I'm not just going around in circles here, is ultimately not worth the strife I've put up for it.

Of course, Kelly and Tiff aren't the only girls occupying my mind. I swear, I'm holding so many torches I'm running out of places to put 'em. Caroline? I don't even want to know what she's into these days. Karen? Grown up and grown away. I probably wouldn't like her much out of context, anyway. Heather? Pffft. Who the fuck knows. I've come to appreciate Alexa as a friend and creative equal, though I do realize that a tiny piece of my heart steal longs for her, but I don't let it bother me for the most part. Amanda? Oh yeah, I forgot, she's dead. Whoops. Got to remember to leave her off the list.

And I'm not even going to make this a private post. It's public. Wallow in my self-crapulence, just like I do. I can take a hit. Line up, girls. Each one of you has got one punch and one knee for me, at least. I'm a glutton for punishment anyway. Unload, everyone of you. I'm sure you've got plenty of honestly earned resentment for me. I want you to hate me, really. Just no slapping. Come on, I might be a pussy pansy momma' boy, but I want the real thing. I don't want your pity, just your pure... I have no idea. Okay. I don't know what I'm talking about, even more so then usual. My keyboard should shut off automatically at midnight to prevent me from saying stupid shit. (Cringes and waits for his punishment, through parted fingers.)

Mom is depressed because her boyfriend dumped her. My current fractured state of mind probably has to do with dealing with the blubbering mess that is her. College isn't helping any. Goddamn, I want to drop out so much. But instead I'm signing up for a math tutor. At least I'm writing some. I'm adapting David Macintyre's "The Final Step" into a screenplay. Shush. It's not official yet. He could sue. I started writing part two of my on-line serial, "Thad Gunter," which I know you are all eagerly awaiting... Right? But I decided I didn't like it and am going to have to start over. It wasn't absurd enough. Watching obscure slasher movies and MST3k reruns on Youtube has helped keep me at least a little less crazy (More sane?) then usual. Seeing "Ghost Rider" this weekend. I might post a review, I might not. Who knows?

I'm gonna' stop. Sam cries for blood, after all. Plus, I have school tomorrow.

current mood: tired

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Tuesday, February 20th, 2007
10:24 pm - Don't believe a thing he says...

Chapter 1: Halley’s Vomit

Nothing is real on the internet; I think we all know that. Even if it is likely that what you see before you on this computer screen could somehow fit in with whatever reality you are familiar with, keep in mind that everything here in cyberspace is nothing but a big fat old lie. If it seems real, and if something in the real world seems to confirm it's real, even then, it's not real. It must be some sort of cruel joke.

These are the thoughts that came to Isaac “Thad” Thaddeus Gunter III as he viewed the history file before him. Isaac had become a recluse in recent years, locking himself off from the real world some time ago. Once he was a successful reporter, a documentary filmmaker. But after a horrible bout with the diseases known as lethargacy and cynicism, he decided that breathing the air outside of his moderately expensive home just wasn't worth the hassle. Since then he did little but sit at his computer, eat, and occasionally shit and piss, sometimes all three at once. He had grown to over three hundred pounds since he stopped his pathetic attempt at exercising, and he believed that he had bonded on a chemical level with his office chair. He had become quite familiar with the computer world since then, often mistaking it for reality, often believing it in fact to be the real world. But something he discovered today shocked him, disgusted him.

He thought of some excuse. He tried to rationalize. "She's just kidding." "No body can change that much... Even over a course of that much time." “She would never betray me like that.” Nothing on the internet is real.

No matter how much of this Isaac believe, it didn’t change the fact that he suddenly felt sick to his stomach. He could feel the innards of his stomach rising from the pit of his large belly. He knew what was coming. He wheeled himself over to the small, rarely used trashcan in the center of the room. He lifted it up to his face just in time as a large amount of vomit forcefully exited Isaac’s mouth. The yellow liquid contain the partially digested ice cream sunday, left-over pizza, three pancakes, and a Steak McOlive that he consumed for breakfast that day, all mixed together in a disgusting ooze. Also along for the ride was the remnants of last night’s diner of four whole extra-large pizzas, a bucket of deep fried sour cream, seventeen hamburgers, and that egg fu-young that was in the back of the fridge for at least two days too many. Being vomitus, a large percentage of all of this was sickly yellow bile.

The small trash bin Isaac had chosen as the reciprocal for his glorious emesis was obviously not large enough to properly contain everything listed above, thus, much of it overflowed onto Isaac’s beautiful Chinese silk carpet. This would have further upset Isaac if it wasn’t for the fact that his bowels, obviously jealous of his digestive track, decided to completely empty as well. The fact that Isaac placed more value on his office chair, which was currently being stained by green pepper green shit, is pretty concurrent with the behavior of a hardcore internet junkie.

He reached his hands back behind him for what seemed like the first time in ages, and slowly peeled his pants away from his ass, allowing the unending tap of liquid shit to freely spray the floor. Without even realizing it, Isaac had lifted himself from his chair, for what must have been the first time in two years, at the start of this disgusting display. Also unknown to him, this extreme behavior was binging his body free of the excess weight it had collected over all this time.

Twenty minutes later, when Isaac “Thad” Thaddeus Gunter III finally had stop crapping and puking all over the place, he had return to the physical size and shape he was at seven years ago, back before he had boarded himself off from the outside world. Now, his appearance resembled that of a handsome twenty something actor, with straight glistening black hair, penetrating deep blue eyes, a chiseled chin, and a barreled chest and abs. Even his teeth, due to the large amount of stomach acid in his throw-up, had transformed into a collection of pearly whites.

Thoroughly mutated by his experience, the brand new Isaac “Thad” Thaddeus Gunter III walked back to his computer screen to view the horrible display that launched him into this in the first place. There on the screen was a picture of Helen Maria Rudwalnagirctekahs, his beautiful high school sweetheart and near fiancée, being brutally sodomized by a rather largish fellow on a cheap porn site. More disturbing then the act on screen was the joyous pleasured expression on Helen’s face. This time, tears formed in Isaac’s eyes.

He spoke to an unseen audience of internet readers, all of which are composed of the author’s friends and no one else, “I know my sweet Helen Maria Rudwalnagirctekahs, would never willingly participate in such a horrible, horrible act. I swear to Cthulu that whoever forced her into such a situation, will pay! I will strike down upon thee with glorious vengeance and furious anger he who dare corrupt the sweet, innocent rose that is my sweet, sweet, Helen Maria Rudwalnagirctekahs!”

He stopped and thought for a second, observing his spoiled surroundings.

“But first I better take a shower.”


Yes, this did just fall out of my ass and yes I do plan to continue, wither you like it or not. I should have been doing my English homework but I wrote this instead. And no, it is not in any way inspired by real life, I swear, being completely honest, na-anh, even if you can read my mind, I swear, up and down, that none of this was inspired by something that actually happened to me. Honest.

Some random depressing crap happened to me this past week but I figured you rather read this then that. Well, maybe not the vomiting part.

current mood: blah

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Tuesday, February 6th, 2007
10:06 pm - She's leaving town and we don't expect to see her again...
I'm seriously considering getting fat again. Getting thinner hasn't made me any happier, hasn't made any more attractive to the opposite sex, and hasn't improve my confidence any. Plus, none of my pants fit me anymore. When I was fat I was happier because I could eat whatever I wanted without guilt. Plus my pants still fit me.

Seriously considering dropping out of college. Math sucks and I'm generally listless because of it. English and Critical Thinking are boring as hell and completely useless. I've have my online class which I couldn't get into for the first two weeks and now I'm really, really behind to the point where I don't think I can catch up before the semester's over. I'm thinking I could make more progress in my life if I just devote my self completely to writing and directing film. I'd be a lot happier anyway. I mean, algebra has nothing to do with what I want to do. Why am I wasting my time with this? I had to do it back in high school, but can’t I focus on something that actually interests me now? Isn’t the point of college? For less then a thousand dollars, I could buy a good camera, some good editing software, some decent recording technology, and I could start putting shit together. I could be making short films right now instead of trudging off everyday to a part of town I hate, to a building I hate, to listen to people I don't particularly like babble on about something I hate. It's so easy to get yourself out there now a day. Not that I would want to post my stuff to Youtube or some shit because I actually want some credibility, but even then there are short film festivals all over the country. Fuck, I know there are several festivals that specialize in first time film makers. I know I'm talented enough to do it. Win a couple awards in a small festival leads to bigger festivals which leads to making real, honest to God movies. That's how Sam Raimi and Peter Jackson got started. I don't want to sound like I'm bragging or anything by comparing myself to those guys, but I've got at least as much passion about film as they did. I don't think there's anything of any real value I can learn from a classroom. I'm just wasting time, going around in fucking circles. Why am I destroying my self esteem every Tuesday and Thursday with fucking algebra when I know what I'm good at? When I know that if somebody just gave me the chance I could break out of this fucking eggshell and make something of myself? Mom would never let me, that's why. All my life she's told me I would go to college. It's never been an option. But is there really any good community college can do me? Just because I suck at math I've been dropped in fucking LD classes all my life. Apparently because the public school system doesn't think LD students have any real strength, I couldn't get that one stupid little math credit I needed to get into a real college, one that would actually support my talents and work towards my strengths, instead of just shoving my face over and over again into my weaknesses and poisoning any potential I might have. I know where this path leads. If I stay here, I'm destined for a world of small-town mediocrity, looking forward to nothing but bad television, trailer parks, chronic masturbation, alcoholism, and dying a slow death caused by severe boredom. I'm better then that.

Okay, I'm done. I just needed to get that off my chest. Now I have to work on some fucking homework that I don't really understand or want to do. Goddamnit, I'm pissed off now.

current mood: pissed off

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Friday, January 19th, 2007
1:11 am - There's more violence here then at a meeting of Russian parliament...
Ye Gods, it's been a hectic past couple weeks...

Last Thursday, as some of you all ready know, I had to drop everything at nine o'clock in the morning and head down to North Carolina because my sister was finally giving birth to her baby. Through a complicated series of agreements, me and my mother ended up driving down there in the backseat of Bruce's, my sister's father, truck. We had to endure his grating Christian music and the endless blabbering of Marie, his current wife, the whole way down, not to mention stopping at fucking Hardy's to eat lunch. While there we had to stay in a motel which is always an interesting experience on some level. Anyway, my sister gave birth to the thing, and the thing is a little baby boy, Quinn Alexander Dodd. Despite the questionable first name, (Quinn? Why didn't they just go the extra mile and throw the "T" on the end and make it "Quint?" That's a good strong man's name and doubles as a "Jaws" reference. Quinn is a pansy's name.) he is a beautiful little baby, a blue eyed redhead like his mom. I felt nothing but anxiety until I got to hold the little spud and all my worries melted away. Babies are wonderful, wonderful creatures, unique in their abilities to put everything in prospective. I'm proud to be an uncle.

The next Tuesday, directly following that, I started college. Looking back on my first week now, any thoughts? I don't know. Algebra sucks, despite my teacher's best efforts to make it easy for everyone in my class, it still sucks and I'm as uncertain as ever. There's tutoring at the college and an L-D hot line, but these things have not been exactly helpful in the past. I don't want to fail again but I'm not sure if I can do these things. Of course, I've only had the class twice, and I'm all ready blubbering. I mean, I don't even really known what I'm talking about. (As if that surprises any of you.) My other classes, English and "Critical Thinking," seem pretty easy. Each one of my classes have an on-line section, which surprises me. My English teacher deserves special mention. He's a very large (as in fat) fellow with a mysterious skin condition (as in really bad acne.) His badge says "Mr. Young" but he insist that you call him "Todd." He's the lead singer in a local punk band and gladly declares himself to be a loyal role playing games fan. I think I'm destined for some good times with Todd.

Reflecting on my newly acquired status as "college student," I have a serious feeling of underwelment (?). I mean, I don't have to get up at the crack of dawn, which is nice, and I have three day weekends, which is also nice. The whole community college thing is not as hilariously weird as I had hope as I don't think there's more then four older people in any given class. I recognize a few people from what will now officially be refereed to as Ye Olden Days of High Schoole including (grimaces) Johnathan Breeden, but I can't say I've ran into any old friends. I've also noticing a lack of cute girls which is depressing for a whole another reason.

So, all of this added to my still-lingering angst over the whole Suncoast thing, having to put Denver down, and Uma and my father being as obnoxious as ever, has made this a pretty tumultuous past two weeks, emotionally speaking. And there's so much stuff I have to do tomorrow. And because the color on our TV is fucked up again (for the third motherfucking time in a row! I can't keep buying TVs, you know!), I can't even properly escape into the Frosty Fantasy World of Film-Land. You know what all this angst mean, right? .... Time to start a new screenplay!

I'm off to the local Wal-Mart to harass J.D. Anyone interested in photos or autographs is encouraged to show up.

current mood: bitchy

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