...or the amazing chronicles of everything that I like and stuff.
Hi mister James Gunn,
First: I decided last december that I wouldn’t watch trailers for movies in 2014. I pour over them and really love them but I wanted to give that a shot so I could watch movies clean. My no trailer diet was to start January first. That means I had already seen a trailer for The Winter Soldier, and for The Edge Of Tomorrow, and a bunch of others, but not Guardians Of The Galaxy…
Second: When you were announced as writer/director for Guardians of the Galaxy I was besides myself because I really like Slither and I absolutely love Super. Also the PG Porn stuff is genius. I never read the GOTG comics but the idea of you playing in the Marvel sandbox, in a science fiction setting, pleased me to no end.
So the first trailer for GOTG came out and everyone flipped out over it and I had to sit there and resist. And I did. But then these assholes released another trailer and another one and I had to resist all over again and resist some more and now I’m basically The Resister it’s my name now and that’s your fault.
Then the Montreal-based Fantasia Film Festival announced their line up for this years’ festivities and, lo and behold, GOTG was on the menu. So on July 15th at 1 pm when tickets went on sale I ticketmastered like a motherfucker and got tickets for myself and some friends.
That brings us to today. I was the first guy in line. I arrived a little before 3pm to see this movie with my friends and have great seats. This movie I had not seen a single moving frame of. I trust you, man, you make good films, so I was in. They let us inside at around 7pm and I don’t mind telling you we had the best seats in the house. Since this is the Fantasia Film Festival I didn’t have to worry about assholes with cell phones or assholes who talk during the movie or just assholes in general. The crowd at Fantasia screenings is the best crowd in the world. They love movies and they want to experience them the best way, how you’re supposed to, in a big damn room surrounded by like-minded people and okay that’s the setup you need to appreciate where I’m coming from for the next few paragraph.
So the lights dimmed and the screen lit up and the first thing you did is you took the beginning of your movie and you shoved in right in my heart. Right, deep, down into the most fragile corner of it, right where it beats the softest, the quietest. I had a case of the wet eyes and we weren’t five minutes in. How did you do that? In a fucking Marvel movie? What sorcery is this?
But then the movie continues and other things happen and you bring up the title card and I was laughing so hard I had the wet eyes again, but different. And then you got all the characters at the same place for the first time (wait, except the great Bautista who shows up a bit later) and we get this super fun and funny and thrilling and perfect action scene and the crowd is howling in excitement and clapping and laughing and, man, you got us. You just got us. We’re yours, this little community with our lives on hold just outside the theatre doors, enraptured by the mayhem on screen.
I don’t want to review the film, I don’t know how to go about doing that and many better men (and women, clearly) than me surely will in the coming days. I just want to tell you that everything in it works. I laughed and I cried and I was thrilled and impressed and wowed and awed and everyone in the room was right there with me. You made a movie theatre movie, you know? A crowd movie. What you made is really special and precious and not everybody in your line of work can do that. Everybody who worked on this with you did an amazing job, too. Everybody should be proud.
You did a damn beautiful thing, sir.
So I wanted to thank you.
Until next time,
Simon (AKA The Resister)
if men and women should have equal rights then why are you against men wanting rights? feminism isn't about women being better then men is it?...
im against men complaining about wanting ‘mens rights’ because it’s never about wanting anything other than to silence and talk over women.
if men’s rights activists worked to open crisis centers for male victims of abuse and survivors of sexual violence i would love that. if men’s rights activists worked toward support and parenting classes and education for single fathers that would be amazing. if men’s rights activists worked toward educating fellow men on practicing safe sex and consent i would be so on board. if men’s rights activists worked toward breaking down the chains of racism of their brothers of colour i would be so happy. if men’s rights activists advocated for anything of value i would be so down for it all.
instead men’s rights activists sit on the fucking internet talking over women and attempting to silence them and their oppression with arbitrary add-ons, bullshit about the friendzone, and useless fucking nonsense.
so no. i have zero use for men’s rights activists because it’s never about advocating for things men need and instead it’s always about making sure women shut up about what they need. they aren’t “men’s rights activists” they’re “anti women activists”. point blank.
finally feminism is not about women being better than men nor is it about being equal to men. feminism is about women being liberated from men. i have no desire to be considered “equal” to the system of power that allows men to abuse, murder, and rape us. i want liberation from patriarchy and men.
» Asked by mycatsneezeslikealot
Yuki did not like to go to the washroom in the middle of class. It really had to be an emergency, or else she would hold it. She didn’t like to have to ask permission for that sort of thing in front of the other students, and the teacher would always give you a dirty look. But on the other hand she liked the empty halls in the school, and the silence in the washroom. It felt special. So she raised her hand, asked what she had to ask, suffered through her teacher’s pained “well, if you absolutely must” look and dismissed herself from the classroom to go do what nature had decided it was time to do.
Once done, she flushed the toilet and turned to open the stall door when she heard a strange sound. Like breathing, but not exactly, or not human breathing anyway, coming from just outside the door. She stayed in the stall and listened. There was definitely something on the other side. She said “Hello?” but got no reply, just an echo of her lone word bouncing off the walls of the washroom. Yuki was 10 years old, which is entirely too young for weird breathing on the other side of a bathroom stall. Also she was becoming increasingly preoccupied with the fact that she had to get back to class, which was going on right now, entirely without her. She didn’t want the teacher to say something when she walked back in, like a comment about how long it had taken her. Okay. She decided that there was nothing outside the bathroom stall she couldn’t handle. Most likely it was nothing, her mind playing tricks on her, or maybe it was a student playing a prank, or a janitor or something. Okay, okay. She unlocked the door and opened it slowly.
A big, majestic cougar, lying on the tile floor, slowly turned it’s head towards her and stared. Yuki stared back. She did not make a move. Moments passed. She snuck her head slowly out of the stall and saw, also on the tile floor, seven other cougars, either sleeping or lazily lying there. She snuck her head, slowly again, back into the stall and closed the door again. She sat down on the toilet seat.
There were eight cougars in the washroom. They all seemed super tired but, still: cougars.
She said, out loud: “Can you please let me leave? I have to get back to class now.”
She said it again: “Can I please go? I have to go, geography is happening and I’m missing it.”
That froze her. She was already frozen, but that froze her more. Still, she gathered all of her courage and said: “Why?”
Yuki was getting impatient. The teacher might make fun of her if she stayed in the washroom too long, like say something about it in front of everyone. She was new at this school and was just starting to maybe make some friends. No one would believe there were cougars in the washrooms. No one ever believed things like that, even though they kept happening to her (like the thing with the two owls from last Summer).
She opened the stall door again. Took a step forward and sat down in front of the cougar. She pointed a finger at it.
“You,” she said, “are you the leader of this outfit?”
The cougar said nothing.
“You’re not denying it so I’m assuming you are,” Yuki said, “can you teach me geography? I’m asking because Miss Potteworth can and she’s doing it right now and I’m missing it because of you.”
The cougar just stared at her.
“Well, say something!” Yuki said, getting angry at the big cat.
“I don’t think I can teach you geography,” the cougar finally said, “but I’m pretty good at quantum mechanics. I could teach you some of that.”
Yuki was surprised. Then she did something she was not expecting to do: she pet the cougar. It’s fur was amazingly soft and dense. It was gorgeous. She enjoyed petting it.
“I don’t know what that is,” she said, “what’s quantum mechanics?”
The cougar thought for a bit about how to answer this and finally said: “It’s like abstract math. Or, it’s using math to solve abstract problems.”
Yuki thought about this for a bit and said: “No, do better, I don’t get it at all.” Some of the other cougars were starting to pay attention to the scene. The cougar Yuki was talking to considered her for a few moments, and said: “How would you take an object from one place to another, from one time to another, without moving it?” Yuki thought about this and said that she didn’t know. “If you can’t move the object, then you move the space, and you move the time,” the cougar said, “and if you’re really smart, you can do that with quantum physics.”
“And you can do that?” Yuki asked. “That’s how we got here,” the cougar said. “Do you mind that I’m petting you?” Yuki asked. The cougar said that no, it was okay, but not just the head, do the back too. So Yuki did the back too. It was fun. She had completely forgotten about geography. She wanted to know more about quantum mechanics but she didn’t know what to ask. Finally she asked: “Is that how you got here, with quantum mechanics?” And the cougar said yes, that was how, but that this was not where they wanted to be. This was dangerous. Cougars can’t be found in private school’s washrooms. That could cause a bit of a stir, if people found out. Stirs are not good. That was why she could not go.
Yuki got nervous. “I won’t tell anyone,” she said, “you don’t have to eat me…”
The cougar laughed, genuinely. “No,” he said, “we aren’t going to eat you. We need to rest, a quantum jump really takes it out of you, so now all we want to do is sleep, but that means people can’t come into this room. We need a few more hours, like four or five, and then we’ll be ready to do another jump and get out of here. You can’t leave because you have to make sure no one comes in here and discovers us.”
Yuki was relieved. She stood up and put her hands on her hips and said in a loud authoritative voice: “Okay, cougars, I shall help you! I shall make sure no one enters this room until you do the quantum that you need to do! I promise it!”
And she did. She stood outside the door, the entrance of the washroom, for four and a half hours, skipped all her classes that day, and the lunch break. A few teachers came to see her. This was not at all like her. She said that she was depressed and needed to think about life and quantum mechanics and stuff, and since she was a stellar student, the teachers kind of accepted this as an act of youthful eccentricity and let her be. As long as this didn’t become a habit, they didn’t really see the harm. When students came to use the washroom, she directed them to the other floors washrooms, saying that a gross and smelly janitor was doing maintenance and had asked her to make sure no students came in because it was dangerous plumbing and they could die from it, and also remember he is super gross and smelly too.
Towards the end of the day she felt a small tapping on the other side of the door. She opened the door slightly and slid in. All the cougars were awake and seemed energetic. The one cougar she had spoken too came over to her. “Where did you learn to speak English?” Yuki asked him. “The future,” the cougar said ,”in the future most of the animals speak a few languages.” “That’s awesome,” Yuki said, “now you’re going to move space and you’re going to move time, around you, until you’re at where you want to go?” she asked. “Something like that,” the cougar said. She wondered where they were going but didn’t ask, deciding that it wasn’t really her business. “I was scared of you at first,” Yuki said. “I know,” the cougar said, “sorry.” Yuki said that it was okay.
The cougar turned from her and formed a circle with the other cougars. “You should turn away,” the cougar’s voice said from within the circle, “it’s going to get very bright.” Yuki said okay and went into a stall and closed the door. It did get very bright, she closed her eyes and it was bright anyways, but red bright, like when your close your eyes while facing the sun. Then it wasn’t bright anymore, and the cougars were gone.
She walked out of the washroom and back to class. It would be math, last class of the day, maybe a half an hour left. She took her time getting there, because she liked the empty hallway, and the silence. It was special.
By Regina Ying
I will buy this and read this one million times because it looks fucking awesome. Please turn this from a concept you are working on to a reality that Simon (me) can own and throw at strangers on Christmas morning à la Scrooge.
Han and Ann were ghosts and they were very much in love. They had not always been ghosts, of course, but now they were. Han lived in New-York and Ann lived in Perth, which is in Australia. I use “lived” very loosely, clearly, but let’s not get too hung up on ghost-vocabulary because we’ll never get to the end of this. They had been in love for a few years now but had never met in person. They would send each other coded love letters in living people’s spam folders in their email accounts, which is something ghosts can do and they do it all the time. Ghosts are very clever at inventing and deciphering codes. One day Han sent Ann a lovely poem, all encoded in a SPAM email about penis enlargement (no one ever reads those so it’s safer. If people one day found out about ghost codes, well, that would not be very good) (Okay for us it might be good or at least fascinating but I meant for them. It would be super awkward for them) (that stuff is private, come on).
In any case, the poem was about the two of them meeting and finally being together. Ann replied nervously that she had been waiting for Han to propose a meeting for a very long time, and was very happy it had finally happened. They both agreed that the quickest way to do this was, seeing as they were on either sides of the globe, to rendezvous at the center of the planet. It seemed much quicker than going around and also it’s something Ann had always been very curious to see, the center of the Earth. Han thought it was a great idea so a plan was put in motion that very day.
First, both ghosts agreed on a beat. Ghosts have beats, this is something that you don’t know but I’m telling you now so you can follow the story and not get too confused. Ghosts have beats, like a pulse but more intricate, that they can do and only other ghosts can feel it, a bit like submarines sending ultrasound signals and having them bounce back with information. Ghosts have awesome beats that they do and if two ghosts do the same beats, the beats will sink up once the two ghosts are close enough, and it will get louder (to them – you or I could not hear a ghost beat shy of being possessed and even then I’m not sure but I have some theories) and louder as the two (or more) ghosts get nearer to each other. So, Han and Ann agreed on a beat and both dove head first into the Earth, each more or less aiming for it’s center.
Ghosts are not quick, they travel rather slowly, so this was a long trip. It was very dark too because it’s dark in the Earth because there’s not a lot of sunlight in there. There’s none. Don’t be silly. In any event, eventually they both, pretty much at the same time, got to the molten lava that makes up the outer core of the planet. Ann was blown away by this. It just felt really good to be bathed in the absolute hottest liquid on (in) the planet. Han felt the same way. Also it’s very pretty and a fine break from all the previous darkness.
Finally they got to the inner core. That bit is solid again, very dense and extremely hot. It’s also very bright, which both ghosts enjoyed very much. About a day and a half into the inner core they detected each other’s beat, which slowly began to sink up and grow louder. Excited, they both hurried toward each other’s beat, and failed to notice the obvious: There were, in all this brightness and heat and awesome density, many other beats, too. Their beat, now completely in sink, grew louder and louder. Han did not even pay attention to what was around him anymore, he just pushed forward through the solid lava, towards his one true love. Ann had never travelled so fast, but the promise of Han’s embrace was all the fuel she needed to push herself beyond the previous limits of her abilities.
At last, ecstatically, she saw Han, about a hundred meters ahead, flying at full speed (seriously though: still not very fast) towards her. They finally met and embraced and held each other for a long time and it felt just as good, just as soothing and tender and perfect, as they had both imagined. They looked into each other’s eyes and they kissed and brushed each other’s ghost hair and everything was everything and it was all perfect. And then they noticed everyone staring at them. They were in an huge room, perfectly circular, like a bubble, filled with at least a thousand ghosts. All were silently looking at them.
One ghost approached them. “Hi,” said the ghost. “Hey,” said Ann. “So,” said the ghost, “umm… are you, I mean, I guess you’re here for the book club?” Han said “What?” and the ghost explained about the ghost-book club. Ghosts have incredible memories and some of them write books in their heads and store them away in their memories and often ghosts are very sad because there is really no one to share those wonderful stories with, so one day some ghosts got together and decided to start a ghost-book club at the center of the Earth. Other ghosts got wind of this and decided to join. It became kind of a huge thing. Some ghosts had been here over a thousand years, some were new from just a few years ago. Some stayed in the book club forever and some came and went. Han admitted to the ghost that this was all news to Ann and him. Still, the idea was pleasing and both decided to stay and listen to one ghost, Jonathan LeGros, recite his latest book: “Jack Thunder and the Tomb of the Snake Queen.” It was amazing.
Amazing poster design for Indiana Jones and the Temple of Doom, the greatest prequel ever in the history of everything. Temple of Doom turns 30 this year, it’s the perfect excuse to revisit it (it completely holds up). I found this poster at aintitcool, where they are currently running a bunch of great articles celebrating the film.
I’m going to leave this here because it makes me happy…
The arguments against casting more women in films (and television, and to have them represented equally in comics and literature, etc) are all dumb. All of them. If you find yourself defending the marginalization of women in the media, you are part of the problem and I point in your direction and say “dumb”. I’d love to write a big thing about why, an article that deftly takes apart all the stupid arguments that ignorants, bigots and sexists keep spewing out, but I don’t have to because someone smarter than me did.
It all stems from last week’s Starwars episode 7 casting announcement, in which only two women were announced, versus nine men. There is no reason why that should be. Again, I’d tell you why, but you should click here to read what Tyler F. wrote, because he does a better job than I ever could.
There’s a lot of songs out there about who broke your heart, who used you, how much you’re hurt and all that’s been taken from you, and what it’s taken you to get back up, to brush your shoulders off and go at it again. And that’s fine. There’s enough room in the world for art about that.
Here’s the thing though: why is there no art about that other thing? About that time you felt lonely so you settled for someone you normally wouldn’t throw a look at, made them feel amazing and used them, like a crutch, to help you back up, to help you be the old you again, and then discarded them without looking back once you were better. Where’s the song about that? Or the illustration? The sculpture? The thing?
Where’s the illustration about not being honest with someone? Where’s the painting about doing the easy thing instead of the right thing?
Why are we only highlighting what makes us look victimized? How is that honest? I’m tired of “poor me” art.
If we don’t talk about our cruelty, does it stop existing? Is it even cruelty? Seems like a strong word… Maybe carelessness? Here is what I’m talking about: Sometimes what we need, or what we do, isn’t pretty. It’s ugly. We manipulate and we suck life and love and adoration out of weaker hearts and when we do this, once we’re done doing this, when we’re ready to go about our life, the exit strategy isn’t always clean, or honest. Sometimes we think about how to get it done easy without thinking about what that means for the other person’s dignity, or self worth. We do this. It’s not okay but there it is. Maybe you’re reading this and you’re thinking to yourself “Well, that’s clearly not about me” and maybe that’s true. I doubt it though.
I’ll tell you one thing: it’s certainly about me. I’ve been there, that, more than once. I’m not proud of it but it’s in my past all the same.
I should be clear about something here: I hope everyone everywhere is always trying to be a good person. I think there is nothing to aspire to that is more worthy than kindness. I’m not writing about this to excuse being a dick to people. It is never okay to do this. To stop calling someone without telling them why. To be dishonest. To cheat. To use. To be selfish. But sometimes we do it. It’s wrong and we shouldn’t and we should aspire not to, but it happens because we are flawed and we can be petty and lazy and shitty. And we never talk about it, because self-pity is so much easier to mine for imagery. It’s so much easier to say “poor me” than to say “well, I’m not proud of this but there it is, it’s something darker and it’s ugly I guess but it’s true, and it’s some of me, and I’m showing you.”
I’m just so tired of browsing tumblr and only seeing one side of the aftermath of a relationship. I don’t believe for one second that those photographers and illustrators and musicians and those assholes who find a photo on the internet and just write something “deep” on top of it, I don’t believe these people, talented though they may be, I don’t believe that they are only what they project in their creation. Maybe your heart is broken today, it doesn’t mean you weren’t a little shit to someone else two months ago. Let’s see you draw about that.
(I apologize for the rant and I hope you all have a great day tomorrow and I love you all and I love your amazing butts too)