This is all going to be Personal, as fuck.
Its easier to go to the movies then blow your brains out....at least that's what I've found.
The more I delve deeper into my own trauma endured psychosis I realize how much storytelling has mad me feel alive and relevant even as the world or my own mind which is my world crashes down on me. We are all stuck in our own heads one way or another. We all are lost in that rabbit hole for better or worse. How I see what I am writing now are open invitations to my mind, my opinions and false illusions of reality. I see that any of the opinions I express matter not except to perceive me and see me for being just that, a fuck up of a human. For me to write these says I’m being honest finally in my life with myself and whomever you may be dear reader. Theses essays all hinge on film or movies or whatever you call those moving pictures because they probably are one of the most if not the one thing that has kept me here on this planet. Many a time I’ve thought of succumbing to my own trivial thoughts. My horrendous weak middling spirals of victimhood my own narcissism to kill myself and in part make everyone guilty in some way, get them to feel bad finally for me, oh woah cherry!! Thankfully something will always stop me like, fuck that new movie by my favorite director is coming out soon or I have not been to a theatre in a long time and I go and it revitalizes my strength to live, really explodes me back to the possibilities of life and art, some semblance of hope slithers back in.
I will sit down and watch a movie the darkest type of film at home, the sanctuary of my darkest thoughts, and in that alone vacuum the film hits me so deep, I feel so seen by the grotesqueness on display that I have faith in a new day cause I am not alone once more. I admit I love movies that inherently fuck with me. Take me to the place in myself I feel most comfortable, films like Lady Vengeance, Beanpole, Vortex, Ichi the killer, or even Moana or a Lupin the 3rd movie. They tickle parts of me I cant do in real life and wouldn’t want to do or experience in real life but feel oh so real in my minds eye. that is the beauty of movies you can go into those dark corners that exist only in subconscious but magically they are rendered reel for a few hours. then you can leave again, back to the simplicity or horror of the real world, at least you got to escape a bit.
Like come on lets be honest, to get my ass up and walk 2 miles down to my favorite run down half dilapidated theatre with some how the best seats in the game and watch a 2 hour film or go out get a gun buy the bullets prepare a suicide note try to figure the right position to make your last splatter abstract Jackson Pollackesque art piece all across your wall that probably wont come out right anyways and you don’t even get to see it!, is way more Exhausting as Raol Silvia Says in Skyfall then just some cinema enjoyment. Fuck that is just lame the real frame of suicide. I will say I don’t begrudge anyone for actually offing themselves like we all have serious reasons why and sometimes real pain is too much or otherwise and it takes braasss balls but I am just saying I’m glad to be a big ol pussy not able to do it cause my life isn’t that bad, I should remember to be grateful which a fil enacts in me; also can I say why did pussy get such a bad wrap, like they are amazing, anyway I digress. And I realize in my despair it only takes one day to pass and I’ll be like oh this life thing is okay again. I always realize its a dramatic moment for me not actually what I really want to do so instead I got to the dramatic moments on screen of Jackie Chan kicking the fuck out of somebody or Tom Cruise hanging off the tallest building in the world. That’s just the right amount of drama for my dramatic at times narcissistic whiney ass.. I guess what I’m trying to say with this short rambled essay is thank god for the movies not for the grand artistic expression but more for me my own self preservation, my egotistical musings and the only thing that really can sooth my anxious chaotic mind into some form of dissociated regulation from that oh so nasty childhood trauma. So Thanks filmmakers of all calibers, from one psycho to another this is my love letter.
