So, I’m a bit grabby when it comes to culture and entertainment.

If my tastes were narrower, this might not disrupt my life the way it does.  But as it stands, I pile my bedroom with books, my living room with DVDs, and my hard drive with a veritable soup of music.  All genres are fair game — I can’t get enough.  It’s not that I like it all, certainly not.  I mean, have you seen Down to You?  Because I have.

*shudder*

It’s just that I’m so excited to see what everyone is up to.

I choose to focus less on the pitiable aspects of my obsession — the fiscal, spatial, and temporal constraints; the obvious flirtations with psychosis — and more on the meritorious ones.  After all, does this not mean that I am open-minded?

Cultivated?

A hero?

I’ve gone too far.

But. The point is that some structure would obviously do me good. I am hardly starting from scratch — I have done, I think, an entirely admirable job of covering creative territory to date — but it takes a helluvalotta commitment to do this undoable thing right.

I am committed!  I want to “have at” it all: the good, the bad, the embarrassingly bad.  Bring me your emo odysseys, tours de force, chick flicks, hardboiled cops, one-hit wonders, crossover talents, controversial casting choices, mockumentaries, cult classics, caustic bass lines, drugged-out memoirs, Latin influences, historical perspectives, summer blockbusters, religious undertones, four-part harmonies, one-dimensional villains, rocky transitions, and dénouements.  I shall pick through it all and frown in a discerning manner and pass armchair judgment as I see fit.  Just give me a moment to limber up.

. . .

Right, then.  So, off I go.  I might close with some rhapsodic statement about how art binds humanity, or a meditation on the interconnectivity of inspiration and intellect, but I think it would cheapen us both, don’t you?

Sincerely,

The Glutton