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Post Session

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nacho:
So yesterday, though I was seriously hungover from Tuesday, I attended the 8:30 PM premiere of Lonnie Martin’s (Rotting Corpse) short film “First Session.”  He had rented the 500-seat theater at the historic Avalon Theater (www.theavalon.org) and opened it to the public, asking only for a suggested donation of $10,000 because that’s how much the movie really cost because God hates him.

I met Lonnie and his inner circle at a nearby Greek restaurant where, in my continuing hangover haze, I realized that the only way to make it into the theater and deal with the goddamned army of beautiful, scantily clad, vital and powerful women that Lonnie always hangs out with was to slam back four beers.  Having not eaten for the entire day, I took a quiet moment to perch on the table and pick apart free bread while making animal sounds.  This, of course, endeared me to the little clique of filmmakers, artists and perfectly shaped woman with their tits hanging out.  

The only real bump as we approached the premier was when Lonnie’s funny little wife took a wrong turn in Northern Virginia and ended up on the other side of the city in suburban Maryland, seemingly by magic.  Writers for the Washington Post traffic section have long theorized about dark-matter “energy holes” that can pick you up from tranquil Rock Creek Parkway and drop you, screaming hysterically, into the center lane of I-95 North.  

Lonnie’s wife managed to find three of these “energy holes” and, consequently, when she did arrive, you could have probably stabbed her in the face eight times and she wouldn’t have had the wherewithal to notice.

While I surgically inserted the straw of my 32 ounce cherry coke into my bladder, I watched Lonnie’s little harem put together an elaborate setup for the film – giveaways, programs, props from the movie.  Right before my eyes, as I became consumed by regret for drinking four beers in four minutes, the lobby of the Avalon turned into…the lobby of the Avalon stuffed full of movie props.  

After hanging around and being creepy, giving every single female in a two-mile radius a case of the hinks, I took my seat and waited for the show to begin.

The first hour featured previews of local films and a few other shorts thrown together by the cast and crew of First Session.  

I had to stop watching those after a while because I got the same heavy feeling in the front of my brain that I get whenever one of my shut-in cousins from Parkersburg, WV starts talking about the trains.  (That’s a Parkersburg joke.  Laugh politely.)

Then, a brief intermission to get everyone warmed up.  I ran into the Avalon’s bathroom, last remodeled in 1945, and tried to make eye contact with several local low-grade celebrities while I pissed out 32 ounces of coke, 48 ounces of beer and various poisons from the two liters of vodka I had drowned in the day before.  I consider doing the classic drunkard vomit routine, where I calmly turn my head to the side, puke violently, then clear my throat and start a conversation.

Back in my seat, I stared at my right hand longingly until Lonnie’s movie began.

Now, here’s the thing:  I liked it.  The great Scot McKenzie and the lovely Joy Haynes tackle a script that has much changed since I last saw it.  Tight, sharp, well thought out.  It’s low-budget independent film, but there’s a spark there.  There’s the light -- hindered by budget constraints, the failure of others and the pressure of a deadline – that says, hey, Lonnie can do this shit.  He can put it together and pull it off.  He can control those characters speaking his words, and he can touch you.  Funded by a credit card and favors, First Session keeps you watching.

So give Rotting Corpse a hand.  I’m throwing this post together on a Metro train and, I think, I’m still hungover.  But I’m trying t put something together for the front page.  As that could be weeks away, given my current condition of being constantly drunk, I wanted to give Lonnie a big thumb’s up right here.

http://www.firstsessionmovie.com/default.asp

Tyson:
Congratulations to RC! I'm glad to hear it didn't suck (then again, that's coming from Nach, who was drunk anyways). So now get your ass to the West Coast, RC. I want to meet the bare-brested women you've hired to be your audience. Are any of them in between 18 and 22 years of age, single, and loud?

Also, GS is dead today. Now I have no entertainment at work! It's painful. It's painful.

*sniff*

Jackasses. Stop living your lives and get back on and entertain me. Monkey, reply to all 50 most recent posts with snide references to penis size, virility, and nationality. Yotoc, say something. Nacho, get drunk and post strange pictures. Jody, spread your wit far and wide o'er the land of empty. Starr, post pictures of more Hawaiian models. RC, uh. Yeah. Nubbins, write your adoring fans in the "We Love Nubbins" thread a threatening note about how you're going to kill them all. Queen, kill us all. Cass, don't kill us all.

Save us all!

starrwriter:
I'm green with envy about Lonnie's accomplishment. I always wanted to write film scripts (and see them actually produced.)

Last night on PBS I saw a special about James Dean and how Elia Kazan made him a star in his first movie, "East of Eden." Maybe Lonnie will turn out to be the next Kazan in Hollywood. I wish him the best of luck.

starrwriter:

--- Quote from: Tyson ---GS is dead today. Now I have no entertainment at work! It's painful. It's painful.

*sniff*

Jackasses. Stop living your lives and get back on and entertain me. Monkey, reply to all 50 most recent posts with snide references to penis size, virility, and nationality. Yotoc, say something. Nacho, get drunk and post strange pictures. Jody, spread your wit far and wide o'er the land of empty. Starr, post pictures of more Hawaiian models. RC, uh. Yeah. Nubbins, write your adoring fans in the "We Love Nubbins" thread a threatening note about how you're going to kill them all. Queen, kill us all. Cass, don't kill us all.
--- End quote ---


Looks like it's mainly you and I, Tyson, like it's been for some time now. Just my luck. I always end up joining good groups just before they belly up.

I'll try to send something later before I go to Waikiki beach. It's hot as hell lately in Honolulu (90+) and the cool ocean is calling me. Also, all those tourist bimbettes in their thongs. And I think my restraining order has expired and I can start hitting again on the cute waitress at Kimo's Suds and Poi Bar. In her heart she wants me, I'm sure of it.

nacho:

--- Quote from: Tyson ---
Also, GS is dead today. Now I have no entertainment at work! It's painful. It's painful.

--- End quote ---


Summertime.  Everyone's life changes.  Just wait till I leave the country on the 23rd.  every year, I come back and there have only been, like, three posts.

But I do need to catch up with the front page.  Including stuff from other folks, I have seven articles lined up for the next four weeks.  Will have more by next week.  I just haven't been together in my head.



--- Quote ---Looks like it's mainly you and I, Tyson, like it's been for some time now. Just my luck. I always end up joining good groups just before they belly up.
--- End quote ---


Happens every year between May to september.  Enough so we often debate whether or not we should even update the page.

It drives me out of my mind. I sit here thinking, god, it's all over.  Then, come September, everyone suddenly comes back.  No clear reason for it, either, that I can figure.

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