I'm not dead. I'm just resting.

Obnoxiously enough, I started a blog to write about stuff and then failed to do so with any regularity. I was called out on this yesterday, and told that I was an enormous failure. In this case, not just to myself, but to my readers as well. As it stands, I have let down no less than twenty people by my internet absence. What a depressing thought. And it's not for lack of things to say.

I could have written about my fool-headed puppy who bit off a chunk of my face. I could have commented on my disgruntled annoyance with the fans of Christopher Nolan. I could have expressed my overwhelming gratitude to Wes Anderson for making his film Moonrise Kingdom, which I have seen four times now and could gladly see it again. I could have perused the latest top ten movie selections made by the British Film Institute's Sight and Sound critic and director's poll, something that is only done every ten years. In fact, I have more to say about movies than anything else, because they are one of my two primary releases. The other is writing.

Truly, I feel that my gift in life is being able to combine words into comprehensible sentences and place those sentences into a logical pattern that becomes a complete thought. I can spell good too. I also genuinely enjoy writing about whatever may be interesting at the time of the writing, but typically only during the actual writing itself. Does that make sense? During and after a typing session, I enjoy what I'm doing, but before I ever write anything I don't want to. That's why it takes me so long between posts. I practically have to force myself to do it.

I suppose laziness is the only real excuse for that. There are few things I can do easier than what I'm doing right this minute, and it's hardly time-consuming. It just seems before-hand like something I don't feel like dealing with, which is a monstrous falsehood. I have therefore made a resolution to myself. I will write on this blog two or three times a week, and not let this instrument fall silent. It doesn't matter what I say, so long as I say it. I know I'm not one for chit-chat in day-to-day situations, but none of that applies here in the digital world. Besides, if I was mauled by a bulldozer tomorrow, nobody would have any idea how I feel about all those movies I haven't talked about yet or about, you know, politics and stuff.

Also worth mentioning, my series covering the ten classic movies being shown at the Saenger theater this summer will be interrupted by my skipping the 1951 Show Boat, because it just isn't that good. There's another one down.

Sincerely and with best wishes for your health and acheivement of aspirations,

Mr. B. Travis T.