I hate to see this Month of Madness go, I really do. It’s been hard at time, to sit down for yet another movie, to put D through yet another movie, and to watch yet another movie I didn’t mean to watch at all because the planning of all this got the best of me and I forgot to have something I really, really wanted to watch on hand.
And so, we made it to the last week. The last week of D asking me “did you watch your movie today?” as if reminding me of my vitamins; the last week of scouring Netflix, the library, and The Internet Archive for last-minute movies when my plan for the night went awry (or I just changed my mind); the last week of my super, even uber-cute Halloween blog theme; the last week of feeling utterly and delightfully self-indulgent.
Really, I feel like the boat is about to tip over. It’s October 30? 30? Here I am in the stretchiest home stretch and I’m a little panicked. Have I missed a day? No? Have I written an entry for each one? No. Can I manage to catch up on all of the reviews in under 30 seconds? Let’s try:
October, please don’t go.
I mean, I know we need November (D’s birthday, and all that big old turkey feed) and December and everything, but my gosh, I love you and I want you to stay. I’ve spent each of your days watching fabulous (or fabulously awful) movies and doing those little things that only seem, well, social appropriate in this one month a year: eating mini Reese’s cups by the bucketful, using the term “spooktacular,” and screaming at men in the dark.
I’m a bit sidetracked. Don’t worry – I haven’t missed a movie. But there are so many other things to do right now that I’m not the devoted reviewer I should be.
For instance: music videos. In the spirit of the season, D & I stayed up way, way too late the other night finding scary music videos online. For me, it was like revisiting those years long ago, when MTV played nothing but videos (as crazy as that might sound) and I was frightened to death by the haunting vision of Grace Jones in her Demolition Man video:
Thanks for dropping by. I'm Meg, and I write offbeat stories about media and the culture that shapes us.
I have one foot firmly planted in today and one in a pink kitchen in a suburb in 1957. It's not that I want to live in the past; I just love the aprons. I also have a thing for horror movies.
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