by Dylan Wise
This story is true. Sadly.
Allow me to set up 2004 very briefly. I am 18. I am in what I like to call my Daniel Johns years (the lead singer of 90s grunge band Silverchair). An anemic thinness has overtaken my body. A physique I attribute to being in love and not a warm or healthy kind of love, the vicious kind. I play in a band, which gives me street cred but we aren’t very good, back to one. Two years ago I had my mom call in sick to school for me in order to stand in line for “Attack of the Clones,” I plan on doing the same thing next year for “Revenge of the Sith.” I don’t yet realize these are not good movies. But being the vicious lover that I am, I wait in line, I pay for tickets, I eat at a chicken place that specializes in the Kentucky fried variety in order to get the toys from the films. I soak all of this in. Obsessive is a good word for people like me. But not one toy (or three boxes worth still in my parent’s basement) can match that first viewing high you get in a theater. Since 2004, this seems to be one of the only things I still hold on to. For me, it’s almost a religion. My bible is IMDB and my church is the Cinema. Which in that religious context makes what happens in this story truly unholy. Continue reading
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