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Terrible Movie Vault

06 Sep 2006

Terrible Movie Vault

I’m always planning. I’d say the majority of my time is spent thinking of fun and original projects I’d like to someday undertake. I’ve become very adept at multi-tasking through the years, going to class, working, socializing, while simultaneously plotting, or daydreaming, or whatever you’d like to call it. These ideas typically range from serious aspirations to downright-silly, half-baked concepts, the majority of which fall somewhere in between.

Yesterday I was reading an article by Zack Parsons on Something Awful about a book of his that’s just been published. It’s about the strange inventions of World War II. It reminded me of a book idea I had a few years ago, because the notion of writing a pulp non-fiction book of “lists” or exploring, in-depth, one of my [many] lists has always intrigued me. I see this genre of book often. For example, a sportswriter retelling the most memorable ballgames he’s attended, or ranking the bloodiest boxing matches ever.

To make a long story even longer, I’ll start the main point of this entry here, in the third paragraph. Yesterday (after a weird and ambient jam session with Ian and Ken) I watched Chopping Mall, House of Wax and Evil Breed: The Legend of Samhain. Watching shitty-movie-after-shitty-movie reminded me of my idea to write an book that chronicled the worst movies ever made. I actually started this book a year ago, when I watched Urban Legends: Final Cut and wrote an incredible, drunken, real-time review of the film, with little regard for grammar or coherence. I churned out some gems like, “The killer, I guess, is wearing a fencing uniform, which makes sense, because I know I’m terrified of fencers…terrified of being the target of unwanted sexual advances from a person with skin like a pepperoni pizza.” Now, tell me a book of reviews just like that wouldn’t be a laugh-riot!

- I finally ordered an extension cabinet for my H|H amplifier. It should be here in a week. It’s a 2×12 cabinet with Celestion V-30′s, and it cost a measly $330. Now I just have to find someone to buy the Twin Reverb. If anyone is interested, let me know.

- I updated my weekly picks at The Tripwire, because I’ve been digging all these re-issues of acid-drenched folk records from the ’70s. I’m sure self-defined pundits are going gay for the (insert Sub Pop band-of-the-moment) album, but that shit don’t impress me. I’m only happy when I’m listening to The Parapsychic Acoustic Research Cooperative record and severely freaking myself the fuck out.


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