I don’t know how it happened, but it happened. I used to be a junkie. Three or four per week. Hours of after-conversation and vituperative debate. Exhaustive recall of scads of arcane and useless trivia. I even devoted several hours per week toward programming a hobby web site and populating it with trenchant banter about the current and future efforts of the industry. Blogs were bookmarked, magazines perused, trades scoured.
And then, about six months ago, something in my central nervous system just shut down. Or maybe that time when Robert beat me over the head with his toy piano caused more damage than I thought. But after half a year of cold turkey, I can now say that I am officially indifferent to movies.
I used to live the terrible paradox of loving movies but despising the ridiculous experience of having to go see one in a theater, next to some corpulent slob with a fistful of PizzaBites and a cellphone that plays a hip-hop remix of “Rock Me Amadeus.” But I have made it through the darkness. I feel like a reformed chain smoker hiking leisurely at dawn along the Appalachian Trail, breathing the smell of dew-dappled evergreens for the first time...
Oh, shit. That new South Park movie is coming out. Never mind.