Listen up! ‘Cause in case you haven’t heard . . . The movie POX
Written and directed by the wildly talented, wicked creative, and impressively prolific Lisa Stockton-Wilson — perhaps better known to the masses as singer / song-writer / musician / thespian / all-around Uh-Huh, Don’t-You-Wish-You-Were-Her phenomenonicon Miss Lisa Hammer —
can be obtained for the “I Mean ; I Can’t Even” section of your DVD collection.
However, for those of you more on the instant gratification tip? The film is also available for streaming, by way of the almighty TLA Video.
This already-cult classic [ as in, like: Seriously, Mary . . . Where Have You Been? ] stars the inimitable Alizarinkryz as none other than POX himself.
In addition to our fearless cult leader, a slew of other luminaries appear in this cinematic delight — including :
And nope, the omission of Frank the Rabbit and Donnie Darko from my truncated ramble was neither oversight nor indication aforementioned title is not also chamber-tombed to my heart [for it is! It is : and how] but rather a reminder that fucking OATH, my beloved Bloggination! There’s a topic of much greater import to which I’m attempting to tend!
So, um. That being said? The film also features . . .
Levi Wilson, as the suicide punch meister of your masturbatory fantasies,
Sue Fletcher, as the neurotic loyal devoteé who deems herself “Mrs. POX.” [ And rightly so! ]
Do not, however, mistake her — or rather : her character, totes and obvs — for a groupie. If the subtitled still frame hovering above this cluster of text doesn’t clarify the distinction, then honey : I don’t know what to tell you . . . [ A simple suggestion, perhaps? Two words : Life Alert. Pleazh is all mine, Bee Tee Doubs ]
Incidentally, well aware I’m giving Generous in the screen cap department, though rest assured that it’s been anything but mad cazh or madly random. Au contraire, the act is one of scrupulous selection — of painstaking deliberation — by which I attempt to illustrate the gravitas of the sitch, bitch. Said another way? This film tackles some serious territory. That’s “serious” with implied italics. You feelin’ me?
And the atmosphere? Oh, how it delivers. Yes!
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If you’re not able to read the quotation obscured by my likeness?
That strand of syllables won’t be found among the pages of Cottonmouth Kisses,
but rather within the Degeneracy: A Love Letter project —
which I’m hereby placing ‘on the market’
ISO some serious match-making. . .
Said another way? Prospective publishers, literary agents, &/or
friends/kins/neighbors of the aforementioned?