Monthly Archives: March 2019

Captain Marvel Rocks

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OH! Spoilers. Blah blah! If you haven’t seen Captain Marvel and want to see it without knowing stuff about it don’t read any more and come back later. Otherwise I guess the headline makes it obvious how I feel about it. Anyway read further at your own risk.

It’s a well covered fact that I think DC should be banned from making movies. Their superhero movies are utter shite. Considerably less entertaining and fulfilling than I imagine a Barnaby Joyce sex tape would be.

If I ever needed any more proof, and I didn’t, I now have Captain Marvel to hold up to Wonder Woman. Everyone knows how much I love WW and how much I was looking forward to the new movie last year… and how bitterly disappointed I was with the end result.

Well I won’t be turning my WW tattoo into a Captain Marvel tattoo any time soon but the movies are like chalk and cheese and CM is a the cheese; a delightful creamy luscious double brie.

I saw it on Saturday afternoon and I was fully expecting to snooze through it because I’d had little proper sleep the night before and I was tired and out of sorts. But I didn’t. I watched every second, alert and certainly alarmed because it was FUCKING AWESOME.

Captain Marvel is everything I wanted Wonder Woman to be. Fun, entertaining and best of all NO FUCKING LOVE INTEREST. Some of you may snigger about me complaining about love interests but they’re not always necessary and unless they’re a good, important part of the story (I give you Deadpool) they are totally unnecessary in a superhero movie because for fuck’s sake, if you’re busy saving the world surely flirting would be low on your list of priorities.

So the no love interest thing is a biggie for me. It’s completely not an issue throughout the entire movie, not a wink, not a single moment of flirtation of any sort. Can you believe it?

I tend to complain about movies over 90 minutes these days because I find too many movies are way too long for no good reason but CM clocks in at 125 minutes and not a minute is wasted and it certainly doesn’t feel too long.

It’s set in the mid 90s so of course the music is kickass. The 90s references are funny for us oldies and baffling for the young uns. The characters are great and there are lots of laughs and the right amount of action. In short it is bloody entertaining. For my money it’s worth the price of admission for the Stan Lee/Kevin Smith cross reference. Everything else is just a bonus really.

So all the thumbs up for this one. Bring on Endgame. Like Big Kev, I’m EXCITED!

Also: Goose the Flerken. Genius!

I can’t find a Frank Turner song for this situation

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I met someone.

I actually met him four years ago. I remember that day so clearly. Our eyes met and a bell rang inside me and I didn’t know what it was but I heard it.

Over the next four years I’d see him at the various places where his brisket was legendary and our eyes would meet and the bell would ring…and my life would continue with the memory of his smile and the twinkle of his eyes.

So to find us both single in January, and that he had also noticed our spark from that first meeting, was a little bit rom-com magical.

I felt like I had manifested a list of my perfect man. All the boxes neatly ticked. I could even forgive the RHCP aversion and vice versa. So much happiness.

Except he lives a 90 minute drive away. We both thought it could be managed but the reality is it can’t. Not in the long term. It’ll just get much worse as feelings grow bigger and the distance doesn’t grow smaller.

Walking away is one of the hardest things I’ve ever done. It’s been a two month bubble of joy and it’s been popped by the harsh needle of reality and it fucking hurts.

Motherforker it really hurts.

Life is a clusterfuck isn’t it? And Frank Turner hasn’t written a song for just this particular set of circumstances which is most shortsighted of him.

This song is going round and round in my head, though I can cry and have a lot. The association with the Supersuckers is obvious but fuck this song rips my heart out.

https://youtu.be/yeXmjVNfCaw

Throwing in the towel

This week I threw in the towel on something and wow, it feels great. I’ve been wanting to do it for ages but stubbornly I’ve persevered. I’m not saying there isn’t some regret, some measure of guilt but fuck it, it’s worth it.

I’ve been reading Bruce Springsteen’s autobiography Born To Run for approximately 4,000 years (well it feels that way) and I’m only half way through. I had been so looking forward to reading it but it turned out to be a trap…a quicksand trap that sucked me in and then slowly drowned me in tedium.

Look, I assume there was an editor involved but frankly they were asleep at the wheel. This book is sooooo slow and so repetitive and so dullsville I came to the conclusion I would die of old age before I finished it.

For a rockstar autobiography (much like Tex Perkins’ – who at least had the decency to keep his short) there was little sex or drugs and look, if we wanted to know about the music we’d just fucking listen to it. While his life and the music business is relatively interesting it’s not THAT interesting. I want the dirt man…a little dirt…give us something for fuck’s sake.

Maybe I’m just not a big enough fan. I’d classify myself as a middle sized fan. His songs are so evocative of a certain American fantasy. His version of Tom Waits’ Jersey Girl – again a fantasy of some sort of American sad/romantic dream – makes me feel all the feels to the point of pain at times. Fucked if I know why; the feminist in me hates the underlying idea of that song.

Nevertheless I’ve loved seeing him live and his music is smart, heart hurting and often brilliant.

But this book seriously made me lose the will to live. I had thought I’d lost my love of reading. I’d toyed with the idea of just stopping but I hate to give up on something potentially good (I give you three and a half years of torture known as my relationship with The Joker as exhibit A).

This week I finally decided to throw in the towel. Enough is enough is enough. Guess what? It wasn’t me, it was him. I immediately started reading Caitlin Moran’s How To Be A Woman (because fuck knows I need some tips) and I’m flying through it and loving it.

So good to recapture my love of reading. I really thought it’d just be me, Facebook, Netflix and this neverending book forever together from now on. Sorry Bruce, maybe stick to songwriting buddy.