So, I had plans to do the typical end of year wrap-up talking about what I liked, even though it’s also extremely basic and predictable (Barbie, Oppenheimer, Killers of the Flower Moon, etc.) and end-of-year lists are absolutely not required by anyone, about anything, not even former President Barack Obama. But, as usual, life and holiday plans got in the way, plus an inordinate amount of For Your Consideration swag because I am a member of the Critics Choice Association and thus a Very Big Deal, and so I just…didn’t do it. Suffice to say, the movies were good, man, you should see them1.
2023, like every year since since the beginning of the decade, just kind of ended with the wet, farty sound of a balloon deflating, as people who claim the upcoming year is gonna be “their year” are looked at with suspicion and maybe even a little hatred. I’m coming at it with, at best, trepidation that occasionally lapses into a full-blown panic attack. Hey look, I’m just trying to be honest here. Even if things go well for me on a personal level, the world is still clinging to the edge of the abyss, with far too many people eager to give it that last push, like Santa Claus booting Ralphie down the slide in A Christmas Story.
I keep saying that, rather than gloomily scan the latest miserable news update, followed by a lot of bad, shouty opinions on it by people whose opinions I don’t actually care about, I’m going to throw myself deeper into my work, my hobbies, and movies and books. But that also reveals a privilege I’m not comfortable admitting I have, which is being able to pretend that none of this affects me, even as I pay $30 at my local grocery store for cream cheese, oatmeal2, a loaf of bread and some grapes.
Nevertheless, I didn’t start this thing to talk about current events (because you shouldn’t care about my opinions on such things either), so let’s switch to happy things: I’m writing a book! Well, I guess that’s a happy thing. I’m sure at some point I will be crying and wondering why I decided to do such a stupid thing. But right now I’m pretty excited about it. It’s something I’ve been wanting to do for a long time, combining two of my favorite subjects to endlessly yammer about: mental illness and pop culture. I’m considering whether to workshop some of the chapters here, because there’s obviously going to be an overlap in both writing style and my targeted audience. If nothing else, I think you guys would really love to hear my (extremely angry, shitty) thoughts on the Academy Award winning As Good as It Gets, the heartwarming film that asks “What if OCD makes someone a racist, homophobic asshole?”
Let’s just start sending in those Kickstarter dollars now, huh? Mama could use a new laptop.
ANYWAY, I plan to just keep chugging along at this as well, both because it’s fun and it’s a good way to flex my creative mus-kels. I enjoyed writing the piece on Joe Piscopo’s “Kimberly,” so look for more short “no one cares about this but you, Gena” write-ups like that going forward (and if you have suggestions for what I can cover, feel free to comment here!). The next movie I’m covering for Cinema for the Infirm is a real pile of mawkish dogshit, so there’s something to look forward to in this bleakest time of year.
Since I’ve described this elsewhere as my place for rejected pitches and things that don’t go anywhere else, there’s no reason not to just keep having fun with it, and not worry about appealing to the widest audience. Not everyone is going to be interested in my writing about Burger King’s ill-fated “Herb” campaign, but that’s okay, some strange soul might, and that’s who I’m writing this for. Is it a valuable contribution to society? No, but what is at this point?
Except Winnie the Pooh: Blood & Honey, don’t watch that shit.
Not even fancy oatmeal! Just Quaker!