rock over London. rock on, Chicago.

so I shaved the beard off. left the mustache.
Phil walked in. he loves it.
Josh came in later. he says I look like a cop and can’t look at me in the face without grinning.
was at Alisha’s. she says I look like a child molester and that this won’t work.
her friend, Lindsey, was polite about it.
Mike saw it. he can’t look at me in the face without grinning.
Mar heard about it over the phone. “jesus, Matt.”
so that makes the mustache, what, one for six?


last nite’s feature:
“king of new york”

actually, was this afternoon’s feature.
anybody ever see “New Jack City”? “king of new york” is kind of like that. both have Wesley Snipes, both were made in the early nineties, both suck.
supposedly, this movie almost recieved an X-rating (there’s a lot of ass shots, and Christopher Walken gropes a woman on the subway) and only made 2 million dollars before it was pulled from theatres. they probably pulled it because it’s offensive. I would have pulled it because it’s a shitty movie.
it’s about a drug kingpin (Walken) who gets out of jail and goes around consolidating a drug empire by killing off the competition. conveniently, all of the competition are no good son-of-a-bitch backstabbers. so it’s okay.
oh, and Walken is early 90s Robin Hood. he wants to donate 15 million dollars of his hard-earned drug money to subsidize a south Bronx hospital that the city cut out of its budget. see? he’s not so bad! thanks, father Christmas!
if his choice of occupation bothers you, don’t worry; the movie thought of that. after he murders about three dozen people, he wins the movies moral argument against a cop (his arch-nemesis) who speaks only in sentence fragments by saying “America spends 100 billion dollars a year on getting high.”
that’s his argument for pushing cocaine in the ghettos. the film gives him the final say.
convincing.
when it’s not trying to be a being a bad substitute for “Scarface,” “king of new york” keeps you entertained with gunfights and scenes of ambush-urination (without a doubt the best part of the movie). nobody runs out of ammo and everyone carries semiautomatic rifles. Lawrence Fishburne (Walken’s homeboy) is constantly packing, acts like a spaz and when David Caruso (the guy on “CSI,” another show that makes me want to rip my eyes out) finally fucking kills him, you’re glad – not because he was such a convincing menace, but because he’s so god damned annoying.
he spends his last two minutes or so on screen screaming/laughing. it’ll make you hate Lawrence Fishburne forever. understand this.
and Walken – let’s not forget Christopher Walken. he plays the same fucking character in every movie he’s in. he’s always Christopher Walken. he doesn’t even fucking try. I don’t understand it. what do people see in this guy? how many roles can call for “mutant praying mantis with a halting cadence?”
this movie sucks. it makes me angry that I rented it. learn from my mistakes, children, as I have grown wise from error.

just got off the phone with Dan. he went and saw “Stay Alive.”
how was it, Dan? did Frankie Muniz die? say yes.
“it was amazing. no, Malcolm didn’t die, he was awesome. it kicked so much ass. I think the only thing I can do now is sleep for the next 36 hours. I must weave a coccoon.”

also: I could score any number of horror/sci fi films with only a back catalogue of Kyuss records.
think about it.

and: movie review.

ONE MORE THING: Bjork’s “who is it” is my favorite song of the day.


right. last nite’s feature:
“the mosquito coast”

also could be called, “the Seinfeld/Goonies connection.” Jason Alexander has about a minute of screen time at the beginning, and Martha Plimpton (Stef, the nerdy girl!) has a minor role. I always knew there was some sort of bridge.
but anyway.
worst. parents. ever.
this movie proves that Harrison Ford, at one point, could indeed act. it also proves that River Phoenix would have been a lot better off if had decided not to overdose. his choice, I guess.
Ford plays a brilliant, egocentric marginally-insane genius with severe distaste for consumerism.
kind of like me, in some idealized back corner of my mind.
he’s also, apparently, a kind of “fly by the seat of my pants” guy, and one day he spontaneously uproots his entire family for a central american jungle, where he’ll rebuild a utopian society. it’s kind of like the People’s Temple, only with just your nuclear family. and it kind of works, but nobody can play god for too long. something always fucks up.
this is supposedly Ford’s favorite film, and I can kind of see why. he plays a sociopath, more or less – a break from christian-themed popcorn flicks like the “Star Wars” and “Indiana Jones” trilogies. a character study. lets him do what he wants. the character he plays is the entire film and the setting is just convenience.
and yeah, I know, this isn’t the first time out the gate for the motherfucker, but I’ve never seen “Witness,” so lay off.
the one thing that really struck me, though, was the way Ford’s screen-wife just fucking rolls over for him. I’ll accept that she’s definitely the passive type, or in tune with his oftentimes dangerous spontaneity – you have to accept that if you accept her being married to him – but nothing, nothing is apparently too much for that bitch.
so you’re house explodes and you’ve got nothing but the clothes on your back and a pontoon boat? maybe it’s time to, you know, call it an experiment. at some point you say, “jesus christ, Harrison, we’re going back to civilization.” not her, though. she’s in for the long haul.
maybe it’s a good thing they left the US. fucking child services would have put them in foster care long before they could have moved to the suck.

oh, it’s on now, motherfuckers.

last nite’s feature:
“the 13th Warrior”

based on a Michael Chricton called “eaters of the dead,” which is a totally cooler title. Chrichton, who’s an average writer (you can’t be that good if most of your movies have been optioned for films and the entire nation loves you. it usually means you can ‘rite fer dumb people) basically combined “Beowulf” with Ahmad ibn Fadlan’s 10th century manuscripts about living with a bunch of smelly fucking vikings.
I’ve read “Beowulf.” at least the Norton Anthology version. it’s incredibly interesting. all sorts of allegory, creepier and more violent than anything a hollywood production company could dream up, and ancient. when reading it, you get the feeling that this story was believed in it’s contemporary society. northern Europe wasn’t exactly a calm place back in 700 AD. who knows? maybe Grendel was real.
when you make a movie out of it, though, is when things become infinitely less interesting.
that, and Antonio Banderas makes for a piss-poor arab.

okay, so what happens in the movie, is Banderas plays ibn Fadlan (poorly). he gets banished from Baghdad by the caliphate for fucking somebody important’s wife, and he’s made ambassador to the Bulgar tribe to the north (which is roughly true).
that job sucks. the arab empires were the greatest and most civilized societies in the world at that time, and the tribes of Europe were, well, “beserker-ragin’” savages. human sacrifice and axe fights. you know how it is.
so either way, he meets a band of vikings, somehow gets recruited into their party, and travels back up north to their homeland, which is beset by an enemy that cannot be named.
the second half of that last sentence could have been on the back of the VHS box cover.
in reality, the enemy that cannot be named is a bunch of neo-lithic sociopaths in bearskins who practice cannibalism. they live in a cave and have a monarch (Grendel’s mom!). etcetera, etcetera, etcetera.
it could have been cool, man. it could have been cool! you’ve got cannibalistic bear men, fucking vikings, and a huge budget (John McTiernan of “die hard” and “predator” directed) to do all sorts of crazy violent action scenes…
but instead, you end up focusing on Banderas’ spanish accent and the massive plot holes. you can’t rely on star power and a millenium-old heroic epic for your storyboard.
you’ve got to update.
you’ve got to detail.
and it tries – Banderas forming friendship with some hardass-motherfucking vikings, Banderas getting ass from a buxom viking village girl, the small group of vikings the Banderas rolls with gets into a little turf war with the pansy-son of the viking king they’ve come to help – but all of those subplots are halfassed, and it leaves the entire story lacking.

so to be succinct: this movie is like if a spanish sex symbol and some broadsword-wielding neanderthals tagteamed a norweigan prostitute, had a kid, and then decided to raise it by throwing money at it.
actually, that’s exactly what this movie is like.

okay, so I wrote a column for today’s paper. I’m embarrassed by it. meandering, unfocused, ill-informed. I feel like apologizing for it. I mean, I still don’t like Nancy Grace, but that’s not the point. I could have said it much, much better.

my shitty column.

just a thought: I really, really like Bjork. a lot. but when she’s off, she’s off, hard.

so last night, between the paper and Dagwood’s, I was watching “the 13th Warrior” on cable.
that’s my inspiration for this week. that’s my muse. “the 13th Warrior.” watch, look, I’ll explain.

back in the day I took full advantage of Top Ten Video’s “rent three get two free” deal.
so here we are again. I went back to Top Ten. and I have returned with movies.

1. King of New York
2. the Mosquito Coast
3. Falling Down
4. the 13th Warrior (of course. was mandatory)
5. Once Upon a Time in America

now check this out. this’ll be like a quiz. match them up. have fun. send in your scores.

a. because I really fucking hate traffic jams.
b. this has Walken, and he’s a screen-friendly mutant.
c. supposedly Harrison Ford’s favorite film (that he’s acted in).
d. rented because I wanted “Princess Mononoke” and it was out.
e. because I just saw it on the Sci-Fi channel (this one’s easy).

these are the kind of reviews the student paper should punish. full of inside jokes and unnecessary fucking curse words.

Fat Lady: I want my money back. I’ve worn these shoes only once and they split at the sides.

Al: Let me explain. Just like an elevator, there’s a 2 ton weight limit. How about I just nail the soles to the bottom of your feet to give you added traction while you’re pulling the ice wagon.

Fat Lady: You’ll be hearing from my lawyers.

Al: Is that the firm of Haagen & Dazs?


I’ll update later, natch.

I got bitched out by the Weekend editor in chief for using the word “fuck” as an adjective and calling the readers “a bunch of assholes” in my “hills have eyes” review.
well, they are. she cut the dirty, nasty words out. what are editors for, after all?
I curse a lot. I write better when I write how I talk. or something. y’understand?

it’s been a pretty slow few days. and I thought that absolutely adorable picture just below this post of my niece spoke volumes more than anything I’d be able to dredge up.
looks like that theory’s holding up.
I actually kicked the idea around of not writing for a month and just leaving the picture up there. some sort of fitting imagery as I strolled off into the sunset, a world where I sleep late, eat Taco Bell and watch movies and not tell a limited internet audience about it. but it wouldn’t be fitting at all, cause nothing I’ve written about has anything to do with rebirth or innocence or life, anything like that.
I think it was just an excuse to not write. haven’t felt like writing.

so what’s going down? alright. here’s a few idears. a few happenings.
Mar went to Alaska to see this dude, Adam. my cousin Cait lives up there, too. so she went and saw her. Cait’s in the far reaches of fucking nowhere, man. Healy, AK. lookitup on mapquest. seriously. hordes of yeti could descend on the town, rip everyone to shreds, and we wouldn’t know for a few days. and this is in America, man. fuck.
I got “Inside Man” to review this week. I guess it’s a Spike Lee movie. and if you ask me, that’s not a selling point.
this dude got caught jacking it in a public library while dressed like a woman.
my beard is getting thick. so people tell me.
it’s officially spring. finally. please get warm outside.

EDIT:
1. column is up.
2. who the fuck is this guy? #3 at the bottom.
I’m sorry. new people intrigue me. I imagine who you are and what you look like. if you’ve got visible scars or walk with a limp. if you prefer WCW to WWF. that kind of shit.
and then I write about you in a post.
which is probably why it’s very rare that anyone ever comes out and says, “yes, I read your shit.”

drunk. fair warning.

saw “V for Vendetta” tonight. this is all I’ll say: I want to choke out a fascist.
gotta love political violence.

Josh is in a bad way over a close friend of mine. it’s hard to tell her to fuck off, cause that seems like the sensible thing to do; she needs to leave him alone and let him reboud – that or mend things – but its constantly being drawn out. he does a commendable job of keeping it together, but it’s only going to end poorly on this track.
who knows. I’m drunk. that’s the second reference, keep note.

Mike Davis lost today.
I had hoped he would have gone farther. cause then, yes. like a true fan, I could have both rooted for Indiana University, and gloated as Mike Davis rubbed a successful tournament appearance in the school’s face. we did him wrong. I hope he can someday forgive us.

so I drove back.
not up all night this time. had plenty of sleep this time around. my back hurt the whole way; the bed in VA is short. maybe all of six feet, and it hurts your back with a thin mattress and no room to stretch. I need a massage, but my friends are too homophobic to hook me up with a platonic rub down. such is life.
the Strokes, I’ve decided, aren’t bad. aren’t great, but aren’t bad. a lot of songs are sing-a-long. Casablancas has a wonderful voice. threw my voice out on the way here. hurt it on the way back. that’s a road trip for you.

I’ve been trying to upload a picture of me and the neice for a day or two now, getting no results. Blogger’s being a fucker. I’ll try again tomorrow.

hopefully, wont’t be drunk by then.
hopefully.

saw “the Hills have Eyes” last night.
a solid D.
there’s about forty theatres within twenty minutes of my dad’s, but I tend to go to the AMC Hoffman 22. 22 stands for 22 screens. this place is absolutely huge: three stories, escalators, multiple concession stands, stadium seating in every theatre. the building is cavernous, and that’s before you go inside the monster individual theatres. ridiculous.
that didn’t help the movie, though. they made this movie a few years ago: it was called “the hills have eyes.”
unless you’re going to improve on it, why remake it? why not take the old one’s faults and correct them? why make the same fucking movie with more gore?
these are the questions Hollywood should ask of itself.

went to Landmark mall today with dad and Debbie.
they bought me “work/interview” clothes. like suit coats and dress shoes and ties and belts and the like.
I don’t know how to put half of the shit on, but supposedly I dress up nice. I had no idea, but a lot of shit goes into buying a sport coat. tomorrow, dad’s going to actually have to sit down and show me how to tie a tie. should take 3, 4 hours.

after the mall, drove into Virginia and Mike’s. Debbie and dad were going to “spell” Mike and Virginia. VA fell asleep upstairs immediately and Mike and I went driving around.
I mean this. I wish there were a way to turn a dollar out of this, but driving around DC with Mike is absolutely hsyterical. you’ll see parts of Washington you’ll never see on “The West Wing.”
at every corner, it’s something like, “check out the transvestite prostitutes” or “this is a drug alley.” it’s like a tourmobile for people who don’t like tourist spots. only with pot.
when we got back, Anna was still up. and pissed.
that kid’s got some pipes. aah, the joys of parenthood.
so we’re driving back into VA in two cars. we take 295, and I’m the first over the Bridge. there’s massive construction on the bridge and the ramps feeding into it. traffic around it was notorious before the project began, and it’s even worse now.
but it’s 11:30 at night, and I don’t expect it to be that bad. I mean, it’s 11:30 who the fuck is going to be out?
I get off at the first exit, and I have the option of going north – which means you have to cut through Old Town Alexandria to the GW parkway and then head south again – or you can go south – which means you take it to Fort Hunt Rd and follow it all the way down to dad’s house. it’s roughly the same distance, either way.
I go south.
wrong move.
two police cars are blocking off both lanes of traffic. one of the spaghetti ramps going over the highway up ahead is being worked on by a giant caterpillar and causing all sorts of debris to fall on the roadway.
so the traffic had to wait til they were finished.
I sat there for about a half an hour.
said it once, I’ll say it again: I hate DC traffic. god damned fucking savages.

IU’s got San Diego State tomorrow night. get ready to get worked, Ashlo.

I’m coming back friday morning. it’s getting rowdy. I’m stopping at Breezewood. sending off postcards. Mar: address. stat.
matter of fact, if anyone would like to send me their address, I’ll send you a postcard.
seriously. email me, I won’t give it out (unless you piss me off, then I’m signing you up for porno). mpimcmullan@yahoo.com.
this is a good idea.
I’m full of these.
I bet I get nothing back.

didn’t delete the last post, just put it on lockdown after some sagelike advice.
so if you were lucky enough to read it, consider yourself blessed, cause that’s really what it is. a blessing.

it only took me about five years of visits to realize that I tend to bounce off the fucking walls when I visit dad and Debbie for over five days.
well, let me rephrase. I came to see the kid. but I’m down here in VA inevitably. didn’t really think about it; where the fuck else would I be staying?
so when I’m here, I make my own fun. stay moving, motherfucker. don’t sit around.

today.
me and Ashley drove all the fuck over DC and caught up. I’m sure she was entertained.
tomorrow.
going to the National Gallery of Art. always a good time, as there’s some amazing paintings in that museum.
tuesday?
The Hills. Have Eyes.
gotta review it. original was mediocre.
and somewhere between now and friday, I’m going to try out “V for Vendetta” too. catch up on some reading. finish “Jarhead.”

it’s as exciting as it sounds. I know.