I could've been thrown out of that zeppelin. Well, at least, from the day I was brought about in '81, up until a decade later. But since then, I can more or less validate pretty much every movie or concert I've attended.
Yup, one of those. I'm a ticket stub pack rat. Ever since a certain sequel to a Brat Pack Western, I've hoarded pretty much every ticket I've had torn by ushers ranging from a former roommate to WWF manager Mr. Fuji.
Growing up, my family were regular-as-Raisin-Bran moviegoers. My earliest movie theater memory was at 5 years old ('86) when we took in John Landis' ¡Three Amigos! in Council Bluffs, IA (possibly Omaha, NE) on the big screen. Most of this memory consists of the drive home from the movie, as I have seen ¡Three Amigos! an improbable amount of times since, initial viewing of the movie has skewed. Where were you when the invisible horseman was assassinated?
Gathered here is a personal mise en scène covering the who, what, where, when, how and why I was when these ticket stubs were torn. Pretty much the roots of my pop culture viewings will be the basis of what I'll be addressing in this no less than a run-on, rambling, purposely pretentious, too much info (but not like that too much info kind of way) guide to the movies and concerts (hereforth known as shows) I've attended. So be ready for the Conlonian nonsense, stilted pop culture perspectives, occasional dalliances with 2nd-person narratives, and shameless wordplay the Pauline Kaels & Lester Bangs of the world substituted in lieu of actual insights.
Admit one.
