Self-Examination Overload.....

Not sure why I do it myself, but every time Larry Clark's 2001-made, teens-going-down-the-shitter film Bully is on the IFC channel, I allow myself to get sucked in, unable to switch my idiot box to something more cheerful, like, say, The Suite Life with Those Twins from Big Daddy, or even Family Guy. Knowing where matters are heading, yet powerless, I sit through the entire two-hour ringer. And by the time the last surreal, whirlwind 25 minutes hit, Bully has my skull-filler fried and pulverized.



If Bully sounds and seems foreign, here's the skinny, minny---it's an "inspired by true events" story of these lowlife, jobless, direction-deficient Florida teens who conspire to kill a cold-hearted peer who's existence has done little other than terrorizing their collective happiness. As expected, the murder is a total amateur mess, though directed and acted by the Bully squad with a chilling naturalism that really digs into your nerves like a blade. Stars the late Brad Renfro, as well as Bijou Phillips, Michael Pitt (the great Funny Games remake), and Nick Stahl. And if filmmaker Larry Clark's name rings a chime, it's most likely due to his other great youth-gone-wild-and-degenerate movie, Kids. "I have no legs! I have no legs!"

It's strange, whenever I watch Bully, my post-game psychosis is off the charts. Makes me think about everything from my personal life to society in general to the teen-years universe that Gianna and Nicholas will find themselves in years from now. Too much to handle, mentally, at one given time. But worth battling through here, rather than "sleeping on it," permitting it to dominate the impending dreamland I'll soon slip into, willingly.

For now, though, I'll stick to my own personal life. Society in general is dense enough to scribe a novel around, and after reading the reports on this neo-Nazi crew who were just outed for their planned assassination attempt on Barack Obama, I've pretty much decided to wave the white flag and give up on humanity. Simply look out for myself and my loved ones, as well as cherished assocites, because this world we live is a shitshow when you have raving lunatics and mind-fucked people like those neo-Nazi assholes. But they're not the only problem. Too many ignoramus-es running around, scared to open their minds so they spew and spread hatred and warped logic like semen from a man-whore who prefers going raw-dog. Better to live your own life to the best of your ability, strive for your secular happiness, and bring those you love and appreciate along with you for your ride, for as long as they're willing to sit shotgun. That's the key to pleasantry, I believe.

And as for my niece and nephew, all I can do is love them unconditionally and be the best uncle/godfather that my aptitude and powers suffice. They're both angels, living/breathing reminders of why this world and life are so special and amazing. They're just chilling, growing up and hoping to catch a Yo! Gabba Gabba or two a day, and little else. The realities of 2008-and-beyond have yet to reach them, and they're the better for it. They're button-cute and personality-injected rugrats that bring a smile to my face instantly, and as long as I'm around, they'll have an uncle/godfather who's down for their cause(s), and here, all day, every day.

So, those two topics breezed through, on to my personal life. I'm damn happy about it, and realize more by the day that I'm one blessed dude. Have a great, loving family, and some great-yet-all-totally-different-than-I friends. Am knee-deep in the early years of a career that's been calling me since 1996, back when I was randomly and unknowingly enrolled into a Journalism class as a high school freshman. Feel more confident about my looks that I ever have before, which is important considering that my late teen years and early 20s were a clusterfuck of avoiding mirrors and belittling my chances with the ladies simply because I feared that none would find me studly or babe-like. Which isn't the case anymore, hasn't been for a couple 365-day-cycles now. Have found a passion that I can truly say is my path-to-success, which is film, and the watching/obsessing over it, and covering of it as a reporter/writer/editor, and hopefully, powers willing, screenplay-writing and fiction-literature scribing.

All fine and chipper, but I can't shake some common questions about my career, and writing abilities, and chances of impacting the bigger, mainstream publications and media outlets in big-dgog ways. Inquiries such as, "Am I good enough?" "Do I have what it takes?" "Will the potential and passion I know is brewing within fully reveal itself to those in my field who matter and can properly cultivate?" "Will I ever be fairly paid for the work I do?" "When the hell will that first intriguing, all-swallowing fiction story idea seep its way into my creative-brain-side, materializing into a film treatment or even a long-form narrative work?"

I sure hope the answers and solutions show their non-existent, metaphorical faces soon. 'Til they do, though, I'm going to keep on plugging, and improving, and ass-busting (my own, so no immature "Pause" required here, fellas).

Crazy. All of this just because I watched some waste-of-space kids stab their jackass enemy "friend" repeatedly, then bash his head in with a bat, then toss him into a marsh for crabs and alligators to feast upon, and then slowly unraveled and dimed each other out, resulting in a slew of jail sentences.....guess this means that Larry Clark's work with Bully was/is a smashing triumph. Causes me to think furiously, and of course, what greater aftermath can a piece of art ever trigger?

Here's to yours truly one day creating my own piece of art that registers in similar or greater fashion. "I think I can, I think I can." Isn't that right, Little Engine That Could?