One of the best trailers for one of the best movies I’ve watched this year, and maybe one of the best movies I’ve ever watched. And a trailer that even after seeing the entire movie still gives me goosebumps every time I watch it:
If you’re a James Franco fan? You have to see this movie.
If for some reason (perhaps having to do with Spiderman) you’re lukewarm about James Franco, I would bet good money* this movie will change your mind.
If you’re scared you might not have a strong enough stomach to watch this movie, I would highly encourage you to go anyway.
Jen and I were both nervous about how we would react to seeing some of the more harrowing scenes, and somewhat surprisingly (though I’m not sure why) I realized pretty quickly that years of watching shows like ER and House and Grey’s Anatomy, on top of years of watching vampire and zombie-related movies, have made me pretty OK with blood. (There might have even been a point when I chuckled to myself, imaging Edward Cullen showing up and being all, “Oh hey. I was just hanging out, and I smelled some blood, and oh, let me help you move this boulder.” I’m sure that was Boyle’s alternate ending.)
There also wasn’t a single scene that (to me) felt gratuitously gory. I don’t dig gore for the sake of gore. This wasn’t anything like that, and I honestly didn’t feel like I had to close my eyes or look away once.
Trust me; if you can watch Twilight, you can watch this movie. And I promise you won’t be sorry you did.
The end of the trailer claims “There is no force on earth more powerful than the will to live.”
There are also few things more inspiring.
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*Monopoly money. You’ve got to know when to hold ‘em.
I have words washed out to sea. Words ushered quietly from my lips to my fingertips, waiting patiently for the right tide, for the moon to bring my stories alive.
I have words being reviewed, words accepted and words rejected, and I’m clinging to my favorite lines, fighting for them, and it feels strange and new and exhilaratingly infuriating, this tug-of-war of wills and how the slightest bit of caving can make me feel like I’m flirting with abandoning the sanctity → Read more...
[Alternately titled: Story, The Second: The Girl Who Moved To Washington State]
It began simply. A direct message on Twitter first, followed by texts; those texts, in turn, begat plans. With those plans came anxiety and apprehension – I didn’t know you, not your face or your voice or anything else, and I wasn’t sure I was ready to – but also something exciting, a strange and unexpected hope hovering quietly on the horizon. And then we met, conversed and laughed → Read more...
Stories I said I had. Tangential stories and life-changing ones.
Until today I haven’t known where, exactly, to begin. And so quiet this space has mostly been because some beginnings are tricky. Sometimes it’s quite impossible to denote where something ended and something else entirely began.
I’m not going to be able to tell you everything, but then the best stories never really do, do they?
(That’s not a trick question. I promise they don’t.)
(Unless the story was penned by Henry James, in → Read more...
This week I’ve been finding pieces of writing long lost and forgotten. Unearthing words belonging to me, and words penned by some of my favorite of all literary voices, collected and saved and scrawled excitedly on pages littered with foggy memories of past lives, obscured now in light of all that was and is and is to come.
Of the words not belonging to me, Lucille Clifton’s were the ones I found most often, recounted in notebook after notebook, or inked → Read more...