someone's gonna steal your carbon

Yesterday was the last major shoot for Loaded Guns: The Movie that involved the superb acting talent of yours truly, and I've just come to the realization that our premiere is, in fact, just two weeks from tonight. I have such strong feelings of anticipation and excitement surrounding the scandal this film is sure to incite across the city. I'm infinitely proud of ourselves for being able to write and film a movie that not only entertains to an immeasurable degree, but seethes the respective essences of Twinhead, Atlanta, and yes, to a perceived extent, our very own generation. And all just from saying things like "cum-guzzling butt slut" on camera. But seriously, our shorts embody the type of humor that I think binds the members of Twinhead together with a common comedic objective: simultaneously engaging and appalling, it's the kind of humor that leads one to describe it oxymoronically with phrases like "thoughtful bluntness", "insightful farce", and "carefully-constructed fart joke". And the comedic type, artistic style, and thematic backbone of each skit is so amazingly different than the last that it's difficult to imagine them as a singular presentation, and yet they fit together so well. But I really I can't wait to make myself forget about these weeks of shooting in time to make a completely objective critique of the film for the premiere. And that won't be too hard, since I'm planning on getting really drunk for it.



Eight Reasons Why I Hate Being in McDonough for Even a Single Night
#8 - Parking lots. They are hideous to look at, and yet they are absolutely everywhere. And you know what they're often full of? Teenagers.
#7 - Teenagers. The reason that there are so few teenagers in the city is because they are all here. Huge packs of them, huddling together in movie theaters and shopping centers, laughing uproariously at low-quality inside jokes they won't remember after graduation and staring at you while idling in their crowded cars at traffic lights.
#6 - Wal-Marts. There are three of them within a five-mile radius of where I am right now. After less than two hours of my being here tonight, I had already been dragged inside one. It's difficult to avoid such, since if you walk more than seven steps in any one direction, chances are you've walked through a set of those forboding automatic doors already.
#5 - Billboards. Yes, they're everywhere in Atlanta, too, but they just stand out so much here, suspended above the gouged-out forest canopy and advertising less for Coca-Cola or Delta and more in the direction of fast food or golfing communities or God speaking to you in curt phrases against a black background like he's a bump on adult swim or something.
#4 - That creepy, chilling feeling I get whenever I see people my age who've opted to remain here instead of moving into the city. What is wrong with these people? Why would you do that? Why not just go thirty miles north and have a life more exciting, more diverse, more enlightening? Do you think it's too expensive or is it too hectic or do do you dread looking for a new job or friends or what? Why would you want to continue living here after years of being forced to do so because you were a child and didn't realize how awful this place is? WHY?
#3 - Widely unfounded neo-conservative beliefs. These people are less than forty miles from the nation's leading news headquarters, and yet, to them, Barack Obama's deep Muslim faith and Bill Clinton's complete blame for the events of 9/11 are publicly acknowledged and understood facts, or at least simple common sense to the average person.
#2 - Southern Baptist ideals. Like my mother's cheery attitude toward the apocalypse. I understand Heaven is supposed to be great and all, but who wants to hasten Earth's self-destruction? Do you not like God's gifts of forests, or mountains, or bunnies? Do you not want to at least try to make an effort to stave off a swiftly approaching end, at least just to see if we can do it? And plus, wouldn't a hastening end-times scenario needlessly be condeming billions of non-believer lives to eternal pain and hellfire? Ithink it's about time some people looked at themselves and asked that important question, WWJD?
#1 - Not being in Atlanta. Being surrounded by childhood memories or seeing complete darkness outside at night will never be able to compete with the fact that I am not in Atlanta. I am in McDonough, in Henry County, bored to death and disgusted at every turn, when I could be back in the city watching a movie at a good friend's house, or doing lines of coke off a good friend's ass.