showzen you right
Forget what I said about Wonder Showzen. Let me re-phrase:
Wonder Showzen is so black and hilarious and serrated that it makes South Park on its best day look like a low-fat Twinkie filled with pixie dust and sugar kisses.
Yeah, I said it. I said "Twinkie" without using the international trademark symbol.
Because that's how I roll.
***
Don't let the critics and the box office tallies scare you: Slither and Lucky Number Slevin are both good for what ails you, at a discounted price. One is unapologetically nasty, gooey, coy and occasionally even intensely scary, and the other is B-movie amusing with A-list talent, and despite its predictablility will catch you off-guard in the lengthy denouement (say that with a thick French accent, it always sounds better).
***
Trying to cull together roughly 60 pages of poetry for a manuscript...and it's damn hard to do. I have hundreds upon hundreds of poems and when you really start being picky, you realize how much sub-par work you've created. Plus the whole concept of personal poetry, "I" poetry, versus the need for the general audience to feel pulled in by something, and I am left wondering if anyone would read such a tome. Then add to the mix my already burgeoning feeling of inadequacy in trying to write pieces that do not fall easily into slam-mode. All to say, I am feeling a little bloated and moody. Artistically.
(can you dig that, sucka?)
Wonder Showzen is so black and hilarious and serrated that it makes South Park on its best day look like a low-fat Twinkie filled with pixie dust and sugar kisses.
Yeah, I said it. I said "Twinkie" without using the international trademark symbol.
Because that's how I roll.
***
Don't let the critics and the box office tallies scare you: Slither and Lucky Number Slevin are both good for what ails you, at a discounted price. One is unapologetically nasty, gooey, coy and occasionally even intensely scary, and the other is B-movie amusing with A-list talent, and despite its predictablility will catch you off-guard in the lengthy denouement (say that with a thick French accent, it always sounds better).
***
Trying to cull together roughly 60 pages of poetry for a manuscript...and it's damn hard to do. I have hundreds upon hundreds of poems and when you really start being picky, you realize how much sub-par work you've created. Plus the whole concept of personal poetry, "I" poetry, versus the need for the general audience to feel pulled in by something, and I am left wondering if anyone would read such a tome. Then add to the mix my already burgeoning feeling of inadequacy in trying to write pieces that do not fall easily into slam-mode. All to say, I am feeling a little bloated and moody. Artistically.
(can you dig that, sucka?)
posted by scn at 7:22 AM
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