This is my 100th post on the blog. It's already tripped me up – when I realized that this would be number 100, I tried to think of something extra special to write about. I've ended up putting it off for over a week now, waiting on inspiration to strike. And, today, in a simple way, it did.
I watched Army of Darkness, the movie that begat the title and icon of this blog, again today. Watching, I started thinking about what motivated me to use that movie, such an utterly weird, silly, neglected little piece of cinema, to identify and introduce my writing. And watching a very young Bruce Campbell battle an army of hilariously bad claymation skeletons with a bionic chainsaw fist and an arsenal of one-liners, I realized how totally appropriate it is for what I'm trying to do here.
Army of Darkness was an early project of Sam Raimi, the incredibly talented director who would go on to make billions with the Spiderman movies. It's a sequel to his first film, The Evil Dead, a straight-up (if kitschy) horror movie. Darkness has elements of its horror predecessor, but its ultimately a weird, wonderful little comedy. It's driven by the fact that it doesn't take itself too seriously, or seriously at all, and to me it stands as an example of a super-talented guy (Raimi) really putting himself and all of his bizarre, imperfect ideas out there. And, in all of its ridiculous, unpolished glory, Army of Darkness has managed to carve out a sincere fan base – a following of the cult brand, to be sure, but a following nonetheless. It's because Raimi let himself do something flawed and strange and self-indulgent that we have this great little movie to watch and root for and name blogs after.
And that's what my hope has been for this blog. I started it last year to give myself a forum for all of my weird little ideas, the little niche things that I loved and cared about and gushed over, a place where I could put all those overexcited personal pockets of energy. I hoped that I would relax enough to write sincerely, even if no one read it, and even if the people who read it disagreed. And, I think, above all, I hoped that someone, anyone, would see a shade of themselves in what I had to say -- one post, one line -- and feel totally awesome that somebody just totally got them. Great writing can keep anyone from being lonely. Especially me.
So, to everyone who's ever read this blog: regularly, intermittently, once, twice, who's ever commented or laughed or linked or shaken their head in profound disagreement or sighed in frustration over the abundance of comma splices, I thank you. Thank you for a year of this, for emailing me with post ideas, for asking why I haven't posted a See You Next Tuesday today, for commenting, for one-hundred posts. You've all made this the most fulfilling venture and challenge I've ever undertaken. And I can't wait to keep doing it a hundred times over.