(Unpublished?) Mad Max cover art by Bob Wiacek. Dated 1983.
It’s the mid-1980s. My brother returns from the city, he has rented a few VHS movies. When he goes into the kitchen, I quickly check them out: Highlander, Mad Max, something called Tiffany’s Adventures in Tirol that he immediately knocks out of my hands; then he punches my arm and threatens with even more violence. (Younger siblings grow up with three parents.)
Thinking Mad Max is something like Star Wars, I ask permission to watch it along with him. It’s granted, and man, I can’t wait. But when it starts, I get bored by all the dust and blood and return to my Betty Boop and Fraggle Rock.
It’s the mid-1980s. My brother returns from the city, he has rented a few VHS movies. When he goes into the kitchen, I quickly check them out: Highlander, Mad Max, something called Tiffany’s Adventures in Tirol that he immediately knocks out of my hands; then he punches my arm and threatens with even more violence. (Younger siblings grow up with three parents.)
Thinking Mad Max is something like Star Wars, I ask permission to watch it along with him. It’s granted, and man, I can’t wait. But when it starts, I get bored by all the dust and blood and return to my Betty Boop and Fraggle Rock.
"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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