Where The Wild Things Are
I’ve been struggling with words this evening. Within the past hour I’ve written and rewritten passages that would make Clive Barker blush, but in the end, the point I was so valiantly trying to make within the confining lines of carefully scripted flourishes is this: I am freakin’ excited about this upcoming film.
As a child I was deprived many things, but the one thing that I did have was an overabundance of reading material. Among the many tomes that helped shape me as a human being was a well read, worn copy of Where The Wild Things Are. I’m not sure why I was so drawn to this story, but I’m sure it had something to do with the trippy artwork that, in turn, had a hand in pushing me into the realm of comic books, which eventually led me into working in a comic book store prior to joining the military, which in turn led me into writing, which I’m hoping will lead me into something much more fulfilling than my current position in life.
And while I’m busy bearing my soul to you, let me take this moment to man up and admit to my deep-seated hatred of brussels sprouts, (most) country music, and anyone who thinks that the lyrics to Devil Woman have something meaningful so say.
There….I said it. *Whew*! Lemme tell ya, it feels good to get that off my chest…
I did not know they were making this movie. But I have to say it was not one of my favorite books or anything like that. But still I am looking forward to the movie.
I can’t even stand to smell brussels sprouts. Puke! And there is only one thing I can’t stand more than country music. And that is people that don’t know the difference between alt-country and country. Sorry but Wilco and Kenny Chesney have nothing in common musically.