And it’s another long hiatus interrupted here at my Do It Gordon cinephile page.
I am nearing my 31st birthday and there’s this restlessness bubbling inside me. I’ve watched well over 500 movies this year already and it’s like my head can’t bear it anymore. There’s so much out there still that I haven’t examined and studied and explored and savored. But it’s not enough simply to read and watch and listen. I have to DO something too. I have to act, to create, to pen SOMETHING.
Right now I’m watching Salem’s Lot [1979, miniseries], and it vaguely resembles this old movie I remember sneaking a peak at when I was younger. I was a small child, about 8 or 9 when I remember sneaking out of bed to watch something scary that my parents were watching. I remember seeing what looked like a barn or a warehouse and there were these vampires flying down from the rafters to attack and slaughter the people on the ground floor, and it terrified me so much that I had nightmares for YEARS afterwards. And only when I became 11 or 12 did I start to overcome my terror and phobia of vampires and relish it like an acquired taste. Fear had become a drug that I could get a thrill from, and I sought after anything scary for that high of being totally and paralyzingly vulnerable and afraid. Over the years I’ve watched thousands of films, at least half of them in the horror genre, but I’ve been unable as yet to rediscover what that first experience came from. And I’m hoping this is it. Maybe so I can relive that childhood memory, or maybe so I can move forward from my role as audience member to screenwriter. I am a film addict. I literally can’t stop watching.
When my laptop broke down two weeks ago, I about lost my head because I was forced to slow my intake of films. And now, just like every moment of every day I’m not working or sleeping, I am in my room, in the dark, watching something. Not creating. Not writing. Not living, whatever that may be.
I’m almost 31, and soon I fear I will be 41 and still with nothing to show for it. Still working a low wage job. Still single with no hope of changing anything. Still a failed writer with nothing but half-finished works like stillbirths.
If only I had some use for my obsession...









