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The Walking Dead

Norman Reedus: An Annotated Filmography

 

Figure 1. Reedus as loadie

Figure 1. Reedus, consummate loadie

 

 

We have Netflix DVD and streaming service, plus HBO  for some unknown reason (we get no other cable channels, premium or not) so I’m using these tools to burrow my way through the filmic oeuvre* of Norman Reedus. I’m nowhere near finished but all good things take time; calm your tits.

Here are my thoughts thus far:


Tough Luck: he’s pretty tits in this one. Total dirtbag loser face. +1 for taking place in a seedy carnival. And that chick he makes out with? Is Patrick Wilson’s hot wife that totally killed on the reaction when people said that Patrick Wilson was too hot to get it on with Lena Dunham in that one episode of Girls.

Floating: Masterful. It’s like the companion film to Sex & Violence in a lot of ways. Even my sister liked it:  “That didn’t totally suck.”

Moscow Chill:  Ehhh. He’s handsome, though. Mostly makes me want to smoke cigarettes.**

Pawn Shop Chronicles: Here he’s a meth dealer who wears a gas mask and a welder’s apron the whole movie so it’s hard to see his face. However, he’s naked under the welder’s apron, so +1 for that.

Reach The Rock: Not worth it. He’s in it for one scene.

Messenger 2: The Scarecrow:  Don’t. I mean, you see him get all sexy a bunch but you’ll pull muscles in your face from cringing at all the “scary” Scarecrow bullshit. Also, he’s supposed to be a farmer. A FARMER. Hand to god.

Meskada: The Reedus is Liquid Sex in this one. Worth it to just watch him moooooove all serpentine-like in his hillbilly flannel shirt. It’s a boring movie, though.

Let The Devil Wear Black: This movie is also boring as hell. Though Reedus plays this sleazy dude who talks about blowjobs for one scene, so +1.

A Crime:  This is really a Harvey Keitel movie. Not that this is bad or anything. The Reedus is highly handsome here, however. +1 for having dogs.

Blade II: Ugh. I can’t get into the Blade franchise. My normal Vampire Kink doesn’t work on that movie. Also, he wears what looks like a hemp necklace. Maybe that’s it?

Hello Herman: Not done with it, but it’s not too bad, really. I mean, how much can one like a school shooting movie? Also, he strokes his chin a lot.

 

*I don’t know how to pronounce ‘oeuvre’
**this is generally true of all Norman Reedus movies

The Walking Dead Season 4: A Recap

 

Figure 1. IT'S OVER AND I CANNOT HANDLE THIS

Figure 1. IT’S OVER AND I CANNOT HANDLE THIS

 

I have no ability to make paragraphs today, so you will have to accept a bullet-point list.

– This season was uneven and annoying on many levels.

– In addition to the Killer Flu, many characters appeared to be suffering from Too Stupid To Live Syndrome

– It’s not just the shipping disappointments I’m annoyed with. I ship Daryl with EVERYONE, pretty much, except Carl.

– It’s the pacing. The SLOOOOOOW SHOWCASE EPISODES. The long lingering shots of people staring at other people. Or staring off into space. It’s like television except written by Hemingway. “Staring. No words. What does this mean? Is Daryl thinking about fishing? Or his nameless impotent dick problems?”

– Maggie’s obsessed with finding Glenn (not her sister) and Tyrese is still dreaming about Karen (not his sister). WHAT THE HELL

– I don’t understand the whole Am I A Farmer Or A Killer? dilemma Rick has. You’re both. Jesus. Everyone has to be BOTH.

 

Figure 2. It's pretty simple, Rick. You plant things, you set snares, you kill people with your teeth. This is the New Normal.

Figure 2. It’s pretty simple, Rick. You plant things, you set snares, you kill people with your teeth. This is the New Normal.

 

– I didn’t appreciate the hard left into Sadistic Raping Assholery that Joe took. I thought maybe he’d be another muddy-morals character to add to the pile?

– The final episode did have me FULL OF TENSION. So, kudos. But the previous episodes? Not so much.

– I did get all tingly when Rick said, “You’re my brother” to Daryl. I wanted to grab my pom poms and jump up and down.

– I like Carl being a killer. I like Carl going after someone screaming for help. That makes him Rick’s son. And Lori’s son, too.

– Oh, Herschel. I miss you. I also miss Merle.

Figure 3. Fuck you, Terminus lunatics.

Figure 3. Fuck you, Terminus lunatics.

 

– I’m guessing Beth is in a whole other situation. Unless she’s already been eaten and crapped out by the Terminus psychos? But I don’t think snatching people out of nowhere is their thing.

– How the fuck can we expect Carol & Tyrese to save the day when they’ve got Judith? You can’t really shoot people with Dead Joe’s weapons cache while holding Judith. Oh my dear holy lord.

– I am glad Abraham is part of our group now. Abraham, Rick and Daryl alone would be unstoppable. But they’ve got Michonne and Glenn, too. It’s going to be an epic bloodbath.  Just as soon as they get out of that cattle car. Christ almighty.

– October is approximately four million years away.

 

Cold Minnesota Is Cold

 

Figure 1. Even dogs need proper winter accessories, you guys.

Figure 1. Even dogs need proper winter accessories, you guys.

 

It’s cold here; you might have heard.

At the start of a new year, it’s very hard to get shit done when you work at home and the holidays have jacked with your normal routine but they keep canceling school and even your husband doesn’t go into the office. Which is good as his car didn’t start today.

I don’t mind cold weather; I just need some exercise like whoa because my anxiety brain is going a little batshit.

Times like this make me long for my old membership at the YMCA.

Anyway, I’m reading a lot (the 2014 Morris Award finalists!) And plucking my eyebrows a lot. And obsessing over footwear and denim. And missing my Daryl Dixon (34 days until new episode).

Only if it means we look more like Daryl. What’s your big motivation for the New Year?

Figure 2. My 2014 resolution is to get to what’s underneath that poncho.

 

 

I Talked For A Long Time About Everything BUT Norman Reedus…

Figure 1. This is my book wearing its brand new STICKER

 

I was on the Minnesota Public Radio yesterday. It wasn’t my debut radio performance, but close. And it was fun and went fast, though man, did I sweat it beforehand!

There was discussion about the ‘sex & violence’ and other disturbing content in YA, since my little book tends to make people think about those things.

Here’s Anne Ursu weighing in on why that discussion when it comes to books is highly ridiculous and even harmful.

Beyond that, I never swore or discussed Norman Reedus in any capacity. Or The Walking Dead. Restrain your shock, please.

In other news:

— my whole body is freezing because of this ill weather of freezingcoldnessosityationalarityatitude which has put the state of Minnesota into a fucking stranglehold

— Matilda won’t stop amending her Christmas list OH HOLY GOD PLEASE STOP I HATE CHRISTMAS GROSS

— Pablo still afraid of his food bowl, sigh

— Finished edits of book #2 AKA Perfectly Good White Boy, so now I can pay attention to other things, i.e. student work, teaching, reading 99 million books I want to read, decorating goddamn Christmas tree, cleaning bathroom sink, etc.

 

On Imagination and Greed

Of course, I want The Reedus. I enjoy wanting him; it takes up lots of my time. But in reality, if I ever was in the same room as the man, I’d probably hide under the fuckin table. Cos, I don’t want The Reedus next to The Me. ME doesn’t work in these conditions. I ruin it, the whole imagined thing. You know? Oh shut up.

Figure 1. Of course, I want The Reedus. I enjoy wanting him; it takes up lots of my time. But in reality, if I ever was in the same room as the man, I’d probably hide under the fuckin table. Cos, I don’t want The Reedus next to The Me. The Me doesn’t work in these conditions. I ruin it, the whole imagined thing. You know what I’m saying? Oh shut up.

 

So I wait all week until Sunday when The Walking Dead comes on. This is a pattern of my life when it comes to visual entertainment like movies and TV shows, but it also happens all the time with books, too.

And you’d think the waiting was horrible. But I think it’s the most fun. The most fecund place for the imagination for me is in the warm sugary nutritive liquid of suspense.

I think sometimes that I like the waiting more than the actual reality of the show, though. When it could be a million different things, it’s so much fun to think about. So Sunday, at 9:00 CST, when I know what singular thing the episode has been, I’m all sad and deflated.

(Also sometimes anxious and pissy and freaked and excited. There’s a gamut of emotions, all intense and amazing, given that these are Fake People we are talking about.)

Sometimes I think people who are singular about wanting certain objects or goals – luxury items, dream houses, vacations – those who we might call greedy, are only slightly misguided. Because they’re spending so much time imagining how great things will be when they get their mitts on what they want. Seeing themselves wearing their jewels or running down the white-sand beach or gliding through their fancy palatial estate. Thinking about all the parties and ball gowns and baccarat tables they’ll enjoy swaggering around.

We can condemn them for not living in the present while they burn for diamonds or trips to Martinique, but aren’t they just doing the same thing I am – enjoying the singular delicious feeling one gets while spinning through all the delightful possibilities?

This is probably why I don’t have many personal goals or dreams. I’m not good at being singular like that, perhaps, because I’m always in that space, whether it’s reading or watching television or movies. It seems silly, then, to want just one thing.

I have wanted many things. And then mostly don’t get them. Or I don’t want them anymore. Then I want other things.

The pleasure is in the wanting, I think. In my head, I get everything I want and it’s always just as lovely as I hoped.