My Top Stuff of 2022

Happy New Year, all! It’s time for my annual media lists, now in video form! Sticking with films and games this year – simple rundowns below, but check out my channel for more in-depth analyses, and be sure to like and subscribe if you want to see more!

10) Tinykin

9) Shadow Warrior 3

8) Tunic

7) Scorn

6) A Plague Tale: Requiem

5) Stray

4) Kirby and the Forgotten Land

3) Horizon: Forbidden West

2) God of War: Ragnarök

1) Elden Ring

10) Carter

9) V/H/S/99

8) Barbarian

7) Incantation

6) Avatar: The Way of Water

5) Top Gun: Maverick

4) The Northman

3) The Batman

2) Nope

1) Everything Everywhere All at Once

Vloggin’ In for 2021

So I’ve done some writing this year (new sci-fi short story hopefully to debut soon!), but if it wasn’t evident, I’ve been having a good deal more fun lately practicing video production and longish-form media critique with YouTube movie reviews! I like to hit a balance between “classic” riff review and more modern, thoughtful analysis; if that sounds like your thing, please consider tossing a like ‘n’ subscribe my way! Here’s what’s come out this year from my theatrical visits:

Wonder Woman 1984 — It looks great, but that’s about it!

Chaos Walking — Kinda just a lot of noise!

Nobody — A heck of a lot of violent action fun!

Godzilla vs. Kong — A familiar but fun return of two classic kaiju!

A Quiet Place Part II — Pretty good, now we just need to see the third act!

F9: The Fast Saga — It’s dumb, it’s loud, I love it.

Vloggin In’ #11: “Fatman” (2020)

To celebrate the holiday season, I took advantage of 2020’s charitable VOD selection and saw the new Mel Gibson-as-Santa movie “Fatman”! Is it worth rockin’ around the Christmas tree about, or does this action flick deserve a lump of coal in its stocking? Tune in and find out!

I Tube, YouTube, We All Tube

So, it’s been a time since I’ve been on here! Not sure who still follows, but thank you for sticking around if you do, and a fine hello if this is your first time checking in. Long story short, COVID and some associated professional change-ups haven’t made me the creative powerhouse behind the pen that I thought I’d be this year, hence the lack of writerly updates since May.

However, in the meantime, I’ve doubled down on learning how to do video editing and production instead–and I’m really enjoying the more tangible results. In particular, I’ve put out some more film reviews, as well as semiregular uploads of horror game streams from my Twitch! I also did a short film with my brother as intro for the latter, which I’m rather proud of.

Here’s some highlights — please Like, Share, and Subscribe if you can! It’s just a hobby for now, but I really enjoy having more folks see my stuff:

My comedic-meets-analytical review of this summer’s polarizing blockbuster “TENET”!
A minute-longish film merging the creepy and the geeky to introduce my stream vids!
A short highlight vid of one such stream, of a truly weird underwater horror game!

And there’s plenty more on my channel after you click through! I’m always working on getting that much better each time with the technical aspects of content creation, and I hope to put out some all-new videos soon doing full reviews/riffs on old films with an insightful spin. As always, in the meantime, be sure to check me out on Twitter and Twitch as well–streams are 7pm PST on Sundays!

VLOGGIN’ IN #6 – “The Invisible Man” (2020) | WHITE BUT NOT TRANSPARENT


Put on my full-body bandages and fake nose for a Saturday at the cinema with the new Leigh Whannell Blumhouse/Universal movie monster horror film “The Invisible Man”!

tl;dw: It starts off a bit predictable and ends with some plot holes, but overall it’s a fantastically shot, scored, and acted sci-fi thriller that ironically deserves to be seen.

All non-me media from Google Image Search or Adobe Premiere Elements. I know I fell off the wagon with movie reviews, but I’m hoping to get back on in time for the season of renewal that is Spring!

Also, an invisible man walking sim would be incredibly easy to program, now that I think about it.

VLOGGIN’ IN #5 – “Gemini Man” (2019)

Decided to *double down* on a Thursday night and see Gemini Man in all its 3D, high-frame-rate, uh… glory? tl;dw: If you can find somewhere to watch it like a normal movie, it’s a generic but fun scifi-action romp.

All non-me media from Google Image Search or Adobe Premiere Elements/Movavi Video Editor. Trying something a little different this time to find my “voice” for content creating. I tend to overthink a purely written script, but I also tend to ramble when it comes to ad-libbing. Hopefully this can be a step towards striking a unique balance!

Also, everybody hates cilantro.

VLOGGIN’ IN: “Joker” (2019)

Survived a “preview” screening of Joker on Thursday night, so I had to do my duty as a gamer and rise up with a front-seat review!

tl;dw: You’ve seen it all before, but never quite like this in a comic book flick–maybe not worth rushing out, but certainly worth checking out.

All non-me media from Google Image Search or Movavi Video Editor. Bad audiovisual quality this time can be blamed on Movavi being the poorer man’s Premiere than ever before; the exporter wouldn’t work so I had to screencap the laggy preview in OBS. Going to switch back to Team Adobe soon, promise.

Also, where are all those rioters getting their clown masks? It’s the ’80s, so it should be easy for the cops to just question whoever’s stopping by the pharmacy to grab one. Iunno.

The BeeBQ (True Story)

And now for something completely different: The short and comedic true story of the time I sort of helped save the family over Thanksgiving dinner (the same day of that blog background you see before you!).

. . .


November 26, 2015. As is traditional, my parents invited the lot of our immediate family—including but not limited to me and my brother, dual grandparents, a great aunt and uncle, cousin, and assorted honorable relatives (which may include two old cats)—to our home in the countryside for Thanksgiving. The house rests on a manmade hill but, around us, shaggy fields and thinned forests stretch for acres. It was a chilly day; the morning sun had looked more like a shrunken moon, and the horizon blushed in the high-altitude breeze.

The meal was a late lunch which extended into dinner, and it covered enough food for both: Tender rows of light and dark meat, salads of both the fruit and vegetable variety, deviled eggs, and a whole sugary spectrum of pastries waiting in the wings. Over amiable conversation, the hours passed as swiftly as my grandmother’s homemade rolls ‘round the table.

To the right of our cramped but lavish dining room, a broad archway led to the living room where many of us made pre-meal conversation. Now, it was simply a blind spot beside where my mother and I sat near the table’s end. It was around three o’clock when, my appetite concluding, fork corralling what sumptuous scraps remained on my plate, a small, dark shape entered my peripheral vision.

I turned my head, and my eyes widened and then narrowed to see a familiar foe encroaching on our gathering: A bee. Not a honeybee or bumblebee, but a black, yellowjacket-like thing, crossing the jade-colored carpet with purpose. I knew all too well that insects, particularly this manner of bee, had a tendency to emerge in our living room more than the rest of the house. I alerted the family, rose from my seat without hesitation, and smote the insect with the sole of my Nike. The plush carpeting necessitated several stomps, but I eventually returned to the table equally flustered and satisfied.

No sooner had I sat down, though, then I noticed another bee flanking his predecessor’s husk further down the carpet. And yet another, adjacent to the coffee table! I enlisted my brother to deal with the escalated threat, and still the same thing happened: we eliminated the pests, only to turn around and spy another hotfooting it across the carpet, or resting on the windowsill, or staking out a set of drapes.

Our raucous attempts to mitigate the invasion began providing an amusing cap for the waning feast. But the mystery remained: where were they coming from? None were present near the AC ducts, or even the old sliding windows—two chief candidates from lesser breaches prior.

That was when I noticed a disproportionate number occupying the marble tiles that shadowed the fireplace. We crouched before it and, sure enough, bees were fleeing by the handful through the cracks and crevices in the glass gate that ostensibly sealed off the hearth. The bees, it seemed, seeking refuge from the pre-Winter weather, were funneling into our underused chimney and spilling out into the warm living room. Sympathetic as I was to their plight, if this would be the Thanksgiving we were besieged by bees, it would not happen without a fight.

The rest of the family was now on high alert. We quickly assented that closing the flue would be but a temporary solution. And so, careful to minimize the flow of bees, my father pried open the grate and ignited a log atop the ashes of Duraflames past. As he stoked the blaze, my mother went outside to check the chimney, hands on her hips as she scrutinized the roof. Taking over for her later, I could confirm the sight of small black dots frantically circling high above our two-story Tudor.


My father knelt attentively in front of the fire all the while, an emergency blanket-like silver rectangle and rag his sword and shield, monitoring the bees’ departure or demise. As a flattened box of Life cereal dribbled ironic sparks, he implored me and my brother to procure further fuel from the garage. We returned with armfuls of flattened cardboard boxes and newspapers, to be distributed within the inferno. My grandmother paced the vicinity with concern, while others sat amused on the furniture, keeping watch and snagging stray bees with tissues.

Within an hour, the bodies piled millimeters high before the waning flame, we deemed the encroachment neutralized. The evening closed without further incident, and we went our separate ways with our bellies full and primal dominance reaffirmed.

Overall, though, it brought me no pleasure to take time out of my day to set bees on fire. Indeed, I do not wish to linger on the image of their passing.

You’re welcome to, though, because it was still kind of awesome.



Poem of the Week: “See, I Can Do It Too”

This poem sat on my computer in various scraps for years. It started out bitter and detached but became inspirational… I think.

Maybe it’s still scraps. But I feel like it works.

See I Can Do it 2

See, I Can Do It Too


Beauty is a cold war


of cold creams and old dreams.

We’re in an arms race of allurement,

knee-deep in Vaseline and expectations,

dangling a lit match and whispering

you get indifferent first.


So no self-effacing, a selfie facing

those well-strung masks.

We can adopt Comedy, poise paralytic:

every post a pick-me-up,

every Snap a sell,

thumbs covering

the drunken nights and irreverent fetishes

so no one can confuse our appearance with our images.

Or, Tragic, revel in dishevelment,

photos filtered but cigarettes not,

for sadness the brand: Preaching peak minimum,

swaddled in ripped jeans, flannel,

and hashtag security blankets

knit in pocket supercomputers.

But either way,


fame is cheap.


Inflation does that.

It takes lots of work

to be concertedly ignored, or stir guilt

when glossed over.

Caked in Adobe clay, some wait

for the reblog of a lifetime,

the intentional accident,

the headshot launched, Voyager-like,

that’ll unlock their day job,

riding a stream of unconsciousness.


And the hope grows but flickers:

batting at shadows, Plato’s Allegory

of the gravely misjudged chances.

Freak flags lower to half mast.


But if the internet’s a big sweets machine,

I’d rather be a cake than a cog.

When it comes to popularity, I’m ashamed

to say I’m shameless—Better hell in the Top 40

than heaven with Pitchfork.

So I follow

models, vloggers, icons, artists,

and tell myself I’m a conscientious objectifier:

ready to Like unto others

as they Heart unto me.


But at the end of the day,

you’re still only ones and zeroes in my screens,

if not for minds then behinds,

set to amuse on the pot or the bus,

or when my desktop’s froze up,

en route to real life.

Pitch a show, rock a suit, tell a joke—

it’s all been done before,

there’s just quicker memes and more greenscreens now.

And it goes to show how


love is contagious,


not airborne.

The admiration to spur a fan page rampage;

to call a dox or charity drive with equal ease;

to lob a line or look into a crowd and have catchphrases

echo back at you like grenades full of validation.

And every comments section squabble, an exercise

in mutually assured instruction:

Pity or competition.

Learn your place or take his.


I’ve stared at UFOs less spellbound

than those accounts.

Beauty? Fame? Love?

What’s it take,

what strand to grasp

to untie this Gordian knot

or simply cut and run?

I could be you if I wanted to

the sloth’s refrain.

But the truth remains:


Bodies can be airbrushed,

voices autotuned,

words ghostwritten,

fashion provided,

and pasts smoothed over.


You’re known?

Good for you.

Address to the electric ether

or a mirror, depending

on my motivation.

Because I tell myself


it’s all about who you know.


Which means it’s all about who

you have the luck to be born of


or, just maybe,

the courage to call.