
Friday, February 12, 2010
Tripping out

Spike Jonze’s feature film rendition of Maurice Sendaks classic story Where The Wild Things Are has hit movie theaters worldwide. The film represents years of work from hundreds of different artists, writers, photographers, musicians, actors, and creators of all degrees. This place has been established to help shed some light on many of the small influences that converged to make this massive project a reality.
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The International Syndicate of Cult Film Critics aim to celebrate shoddy B-movies and straight-to-video films. We will cover these flicks fondly, with tongues firmly kept in our cheeks. The one thing we ask of those who contribute to the Club is that you must watch the film in its entirety, even if this means having to strap yourself down onto a chair and getting your eyelids locked out like Alex DeLarge from ‘A Clockwork Orange’. It is imperative that you absorb the visual treats.
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"Drunk at the matinee" is a collection of candid poetry about stupid shit that we all experience from day to day.




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