"A Nightmare on Elm Street Part 2" Poster Power!

Dear Blog, I hate you.

I'm usually full of ideas and inspiration when it comes to keeping this blog up to date, but I'm totally lost right now, and am pretty much wingin' it right now. My fingers are Goddamn dancing over this keyboard. All form and technique is thrown out the window and my brain is taking over. It's pretty magical, really.

I'm really trying to post something at least once a week, but when I put a goal and timeline on anything I do, seven days seems like the quickest seven days in history and all creativity has disappeared. Knowing I have to write something sucks the writing-fun-juices right outta me.

So here's the deal. I'm just gonna write about a really rad poster that just fell into my life. It's all I can do at this point, since it's the only thing running through mind and the only thing my eye wanders to when staring off into one-bedroom-apartment-space. The title of the blog pretty much reveals the source of my newest happy thing, but that still won't stop me from writing it in menacing caps and italics:

"NIGHTMARE ON ELM STREET 2, FREDDY'S REVENGE" POSTER!

Man, it's really hard to photograph a shiny, reflective poster frame. My apologies.

But yeah. This is really cool, man. I mean, okay, I do realize that I talk about how something is "really cool" a lot around here, but this time it's for real. This trumps everything I've ever written about and drooled over. I've sailed through action figures and blown over movies like a freight train, but this objet d'art is special to me and this world it resides in. This is the single most fascinating and wonderful thing that has entered my life.

Wait, I just noticed a small rip near the the left hand corner -- I'm gonna burn this pile of shit.

Now, I'm a pretty casual fan when it comes to the "Nightmare..." series, relying on marathons during Halloween and a universe of merchandise to carry me through most of the finer points. At this stage in my life, I've seen all the films over a random period of time that it's all blended into one giant and confusing film. For a million bucks, I couldn't relay a single storyline from any of the flicks, relying more on my lengthy wordplay and charming wit to win that cool mil. Now I'm depressed that I don't have a million dollars. Can I have a million dollars?

The truth behind this poster is that I had no hand in obtaining it. Like a good older brother, I used and abused Younger Brother Davey to do my dirty work. Ahh, sorta.

Yesterday, one of our favorite go-to comic book store hotspots was having a one day only/do or die/"everything for one dollar" sale. This place shall still remain unnamed, for fear of it being pillaged and abused by all you weirdos reading this. We go there to rummage through everything from loose and broken toys to massive bundles of coffee-stained comics. We walk away with so much junk, you'd think we were convinced that He-Man figures and Jawas were currency in the near-apololyptic future. To most, this can be an intense waste of money, and in all sense of the meaning, it completely is. It's shameful, actually. I absolutely DO NOT need some of the stuff I throw money at, but what's the point of money if you can't spend it? This is my bullshit excuse for when the rent's due, I have zero money and I'm gettin' the sweaty, OHSHIT shakes. I hate it when I get the OHSHIT shakes.

Anyway, they had a sale, Davey went and I missed out. We've been planning this for weeks, but I completely messed the entire plan up by pouring copious amounts of alcohol into my mouth. It was one of those lazy, boring nights that turned into a party that wouldn't stop until we closed out the bar. Also, completely not worth it. You know how you can sometimes look back and think, in the harrowing depths of a killer hangover, that the previous night was worth it? It was fun and intense and all the pain and suffering you're currently going through is nothing compared to the incredible time and experience. Well, not this time. In fact, I wish I could take it all back, but I'm still unsure as to what even happened. To fix the past, you must remember the past, and right now, all I remember is visiting various bars, lots of money pumped into dirty jukeboxes and cold appletinis. I have sinned.

Basically, he was kind enough to pick this up for me, which is code for "sold it to me for five bucks."

But I love this. I love the way Freddy's face looks, I like the color and presumed texture of the fedora, I dig the "vagina thing" he's doing with his knife-glove, etc. It's magical, enlightening and full of life. His demon-eyes and snarled, yellow teeth will either ruin my walls or make them happy. Yes, this is kinda terrifying and awesome at the same time. I'm such a wuss.

Completely satisfied with this wheel-and-deal. My insides are still bleeding from the liquid sludge I gladly put into it, but this eases the ever-burning. Too bad I'm still kinda scared to look at this, though. Fuckin' weirded out by that Silly Putty face, but hey, I finished a post before the end of my seven days, so I'm just tickled pink. And it's all because of you, Freddy and Davey. You know, you two do kinda look alike. Just sayin'.