Edie Smith

Nineteen

Edie Smith — Wed, 29 Jul 2009 02:47:05 +0000

Yesterday was my 19th birthday, and it was honestly one of my best birthdays ever. I even felt perfectly fine when I woke up this morning! I spent most of the night with my wonderful boyfriend, just the two of us, and it was perfect. Horror movies, whiskey and plenty of birthday sex – I don’t imagine it would have made me as happy if things had of gone as originally planned. Peter Jackson’s Dead Alive has found a place on my top 10 favorite movies of all time. Love, love, love the gore and hilarious twisted humor! Definitely not for those with a weak stomach.

Now that I have reached the final year of my teens I feel obligated to create some goals, or, guidelines of sort.

Now that I am nineteen, I pledge to manage my money well,

take some time out everyday to acknowledge the beauty and love around me,

find a job, which is now a very important goal and goes hand in hand with financial management,

practice driving,

rearrange my bedroom (with the assistance of a new shelf and the banning of my unused television)

Oh, I have so many bloody things to change in my life right now. I seem to be growing up, finally. It feels more like I’m being thrown into a rabid bears cage sometimes.

Unfortunately, today didn’t turn out as great as yesterday, I shed a few tears, so I have decided to end the day with a nice hot cup of Matcha and my brand new edition of Absolute Watchmen (my boyfriend loves me).

Happy Birthday to me, time to get shit started…

Poster

Edie Smith — Thu, 23 Jul 2009 22:38:01 +0000

There are some things I love about 3 hour drives.

Liberation

Edie Smith — Mon, 20 Jul 2009 19:29:27 +0000

Life is full of tests that have the ability to end in liberation or misery. It is an amazing thing to be alive – That being said, the next time you are in a body of water go under and hold your breath for as long as you can stand it. Until your body starts shaking, until your lungs feel like they are about to retract and explode through your ribs, until your head feels woozy. When you finally come above the surface, that deep breath will make you feel more alive than you have felt in years. The relief of the physical tension and mental panic is almost ecstatic. For a split second, you will know what it means to feel alive.

No one feels that anymore.

Horror Literature vs. Film

Edie Smith — Mon, 20 Jul 2009 18:44:21 +0000

I have recently been reading a lot of old horror literature, which of course includes the great Lovecraft, and I have noticed something I never thought of before my interest in written macabre…

When I am reading these stories and the house is dark, it’s near midnight and I am virtually alone, I get a feeling that has never come from any horror film I have seen. I find the difference between horror literature and film is the personal perspective. Everyone knows that reading let’s you explore your mind and imagination much further than when you are being shown what the director wants you to see.

Whilst reading a spine chilling story, you are able to go to deep and dark places in your mind, memories of your darkest moments in life. With that kind of freedom, you can feel the fear of the victim in the story, you can picture the horrible monsters more frighteningly, you can create your own world of horror – the words you are reading become guidelines to your own personal movie in your head.

I sit and watch the most terrifying, gruesome movies I can get my hands on and throughout most of the movie I find myself giggling at the ridiculous gore, smiling at the amazing affects and wondering, “How the fuck did they make that scene so believable?” While reminiscing and telling people about movies I’ve seen I often refer to the special effects, the camera angles and the acting. A conversation about a book will turn out much differently because I will have connected with the story on a personal level.

The moments when I am sitting on my bed in the dark, reading a creepy, messed up story – I am tense the whole time. The creak of a floor board in the hall will make me jump; going downstairs into the darkness becomes horrifying. It really digs up old childish fears from inside of me and leaves me with a feeling that cannot be retained from any other material.

Long live Lovecraft and horror literature abroad!