Magic Mike

I have a confession… I was inspired to begin this blog not by some higher, artistic ideal; some desperate yearning to pour out my artistic heart. No, I was inspired to do so by the tongue in cheek coming of age/strip-a-thon that is Magic Mike, the film that sold itself on the rippling abdominals of one Channing Tatum.

Now, don’t get me wrong, I’m as much a fan of male nudity as the next gay man, but I was very much not taken in by the hype for this one, and only went because the other half (and several friends) wished to drool over said star and his assets (if any of my friends are reading this – no smirking – I’m being honest, regardless of what you may think). No, I attended with distinctly low expectations, and it’s perhaps because of this that I was the one who came out having thoroughly enjoyed myself.

I was like my own personal pep talk. Matthew McConaughey’s occasional bouts of evangelical preacher-esque monologging notwithstanding.

Now, understand, at this point I’d not had that all important letter requesting the rest of my manuscript (that gave the processes of intent their final kick start), was still very much working on the self-publishing goal. Which I still feel holds no less validity, though it’s a damn sight harder slog from what I can gather, having spoken to various who’ve gone down that route.

Anyway… I just felt I should come out and say it. As I commented on my previous post, its difficult when writing these things not to feel like, and/or come across as, some pretentious idiot who is too eloquent for his own good.

(Okay, just realised how big headed that sounds, but I’ll let it stand…)

I’ve done a lot of soul searching over the last week, about what to make of this blog, what I want – need – it to be for me. The above – embracing the mundane, or the (some would say) trite influence of the mass media, seemed like a step in the right direction. I love pop culture, and I think that shows in my writing. If you don’t, you’re reading the wrong person.


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