cberquist
10-01-2004, 05:42 AM
Michael Curtis Johnson posted this over at the Viewaskew website. I thought it was great.
An Open Letter to Viewaskew,
I had an experience at the Secret Stash in Westwood that really meant a lot to me, compliments of the man…Jason Mewes.
I’m a twenty-three year old screenwriting student over at the Professional Program at UCLA (Believe me this in not a read my script type of thing) from Chicago. The reason I got into films was really a result of two flicks: Pulp Fiction and Clerks. I become kind of a…Viewaskew disciple. I’d preach the gospel of Kevin Smith to all that would listen. One such friend I converted was Brian.
Over the years, some friends you just lose touch with. Not because you don’t care, but just because of things like distance and time. Your conversations become awkward and all you can talk about is the past. I went to college and he went into the military and ended up in Iraq. Yeah, stuff over there gets kind of crazy but if you talk to soldiers they’ll tell you that they have a lot of downtime. They eat that lull with Video Games, DVDs and now that our brave American women are allowed on ships…let’s not get into that. All of his military buddies love your flicks; many of our conversations dip back into your flicks.
After going from Iraq, to off the coast of Liberia, to Iraq…again. Brain was finally able to hang up his boots and come back to Chicago. Two days ago we had a chat. He can’t get a job, his girlfriend left him while he was out (Can you call a girl the c word in some instances?) and he was basically distraught about how home ain’t what it used to be. I, being the LA a-hole that I am, had to cut him short because I had an engagement.
Yesterday, I was walking past the Secret Stash and decided to go in and feel a little bit of that warm fuzzy nostalgic feeling. Here’s my endorsement. The place is off the hook! Not only does it have every Viewaskew product you could imagine, it’s got all the comics you could shake a stick at. And whom should I see working (and I mean labor) in the back of said shop? Jason Mewes.
Living in Hollywood, you see countless celebrities. I prefer to leave people alone. Sure, tell them you love their stuff, be cool but definitely at all costs don’t ask them to do something for you. Jason was being really down-to-earth with everyone. He was talking these cats like real people. Asking them about their lives. In LA people love to talk to strangers and tell them their deepest darkest secrets but it wasn’t “that” kind of conversation, it was the refreshing, meaningful “get to know you” small talk that I hadn’t heard since I’ve been here. The first thing that struck me was his demeanor; Jason is not “Jay.” Jason has a unique maturity. Which makes one realize this guy can act. I got this really stupid idea…
“Can I ask you a question?” Jason looked up from signing a comic book. All eyes were on me. The Stash employees, the customers and it seemed God Himself wanted to know what the hell I was up to. “I have this friend who just got home from Iraq…” After the words came out of my mouth, even I didn’t believe them. It sounded so [censored] low. How can anybody stoop to the level of invoking a soldier to talk to an actor? You could anally rape someone’s mother and pour sugar in their gas tank so long as you did it with a yellow ribbon around you neck. Panic, automatically set in, I felt like a fraud. I explained that my buddy loved his movies (God this is pathetic!) and it would mean so much to him if Jason would leave a message on his answering machine welcoming him home. Christ…I felt like a putz. I could feel the collective eyes of the world rolling. Here, I am practically “using” another human being, putting a disclaimer on it that’s downright putrid (He’s a soldier) and I’m not even saying it in a sincere way (My voice is shaky from nerves). Shit, man, why don’t you just ask him to wish your mother a happy birthday while you’re at it?
But, Jason was unbelievable cool. He was actually trying hard to make me look less pathetic. He told me to come outside with him. He had a smoke; he had to think because he didn’t want to say the wrong thing. What kind of person is this? I swear if this guy ever runs for political office he’s going to clean up. I asked him if he’d mention Iraq because he just got back home. He agreed and for a moment I realized I was…sort of, directing Jason [censored] Mewes…in a sad kind of way. He took the phone, waited for the message machine and busted into one of the funniest impromptu greetings I have ever heard (Note to Kevin, maybe you should let this guy improvise a little more). It mixed sincerity with hilarity. I’m paraphrasing because I couldn’t hear him very well over my pounding chest, but he basically thanked him for “fighting the good fight” (not in a political way) but that he would still “take him down” if he ever showed his face around Jay and Bob’s (Secret Stash in Westwood just south of UCLA on Westwood Avenue, North of Santa Monica Boulevard). He even capped it with a “Nootch.”
He handed back the phone. I thanked him a few times and got out of there because I felt like such a prick. If I ever see him again, I’m bringing roses. He’s that cool.
Midnight. I get a call back from Brian. He’s flipping-out. We find ourselves giggling. Giggling is the right word for it. And something struck me this morning. We were laughing the way we used to. We had a conversation like we used. Our sense of humors were back in line. I had the components of the sappiest friendship story ever.
I had to find a way tell all of you there at Viewaskew that what you do has an impact on people’s lives. Being an artist and entertainer is important; especially during times like these. So thank you Kevin, thank you Jason and everyone there at Viewaskew. And thanks to our soldiers (Do I have no shame?)…keep fighting the good fight. Nootch.
Snoogins,
Michael C. Johnson
An Open Letter to Viewaskew,
I had an experience at the Secret Stash in Westwood that really meant a lot to me, compliments of the man…Jason Mewes.
I’m a twenty-three year old screenwriting student over at the Professional Program at UCLA (Believe me this in not a read my script type of thing) from Chicago. The reason I got into films was really a result of two flicks: Pulp Fiction and Clerks. I become kind of a…Viewaskew disciple. I’d preach the gospel of Kevin Smith to all that would listen. One such friend I converted was Brian.
Over the years, some friends you just lose touch with. Not because you don’t care, but just because of things like distance and time. Your conversations become awkward and all you can talk about is the past. I went to college and he went into the military and ended up in Iraq. Yeah, stuff over there gets kind of crazy but if you talk to soldiers they’ll tell you that they have a lot of downtime. They eat that lull with Video Games, DVDs and now that our brave American women are allowed on ships…let’s not get into that. All of his military buddies love your flicks; many of our conversations dip back into your flicks.
After going from Iraq, to off the coast of Liberia, to Iraq…again. Brain was finally able to hang up his boots and come back to Chicago. Two days ago we had a chat. He can’t get a job, his girlfriend left him while he was out (Can you call a girl the c word in some instances?) and he was basically distraught about how home ain’t what it used to be. I, being the LA a-hole that I am, had to cut him short because I had an engagement.
Yesterday, I was walking past the Secret Stash and decided to go in and feel a little bit of that warm fuzzy nostalgic feeling. Here’s my endorsement. The place is off the hook! Not only does it have every Viewaskew product you could imagine, it’s got all the comics you could shake a stick at. And whom should I see working (and I mean labor) in the back of said shop? Jason Mewes.
Living in Hollywood, you see countless celebrities. I prefer to leave people alone. Sure, tell them you love their stuff, be cool but definitely at all costs don’t ask them to do something for you. Jason was being really down-to-earth with everyone. He was talking these cats like real people. Asking them about their lives. In LA people love to talk to strangers and tell them their deepest darkest secrets but it wasn’t “that” kind of conversation, it was the refreshing, meaningful “get to know you” small talk that I hadn’t heard since I’ve been here. The first thing that struck me was his demeanor; Jason is not “Jay.” Jason has a unique maturity. Which makes one realize this guy can act. I got this really stupid idea…
“Can I ask you a question?” Jason looked up from signing a comic book. All eyes were on me. The Stash employees, the customers and it seemed God Himself wanted to know what the hell I was up to. “I have this friend who just got home from Iraq…” After the words came out of my mouth, even I didn’t believe them. It sounded so [censored] low. How can anybody stoop to the level of invoking a soldier to talk to an actor? You could anally rape someone’s mother and pour sugar in their gas tank so long as you did it with a yellow ribbon around you neck. Panic, automatically set in, I felt like a fraud. I explained that my buddy loved his movies (God this is pathetic!) and it would mean so much to him if Jason would leave a message on his answering machine welcoming him home. Christ…I felt like a putz. I could feel the collective eyes of the world rolling. Here, I am practically “using” another human being, putting a disclaimer on it that’s downright putrid (He’s a soldier) and I’m not even saying it in a sincere way (My voice is shaky from nerves). Shit, man, why don’t you just ask him to wish your mother a happy birthday while you’re at it?
But, Jason was unbelievable cool. He was actually trying hard to make me look less pathetic. He told me to come outside with him. He had a smoke; he had to think because he didn’t want to say the wrong thing. What kind of person is this? I swear if this guy ever runs for political office he’s going to clean up. I asked him if he’d mention Iraq because he just got back home. He agreed and for a moment I realized I was…sort of, directing Jason [censored] Mewes…in a sad kind of way. He took the phone, waited for the message machine and busted into one of the funniest impromptu greetings I have ever heard (Note to Kevin, maybe you should let this guy improvise a little more). It mixed sincerity with hilarity. I’m paraphrasing because I couldn’t hear him very well over my pounding chest, but he basically thanked him for “fighting the good fight” (not in a political way) but that he would still “take him down” if he ever showed his face around Jay and Bob’s (Secret Stash in Westwood just south of UCLA on Westwood Avenue, North of Santa Monica Boulevard). He even capped it with a “Nootch.”
He handed back the phone. I thanked him a few times and got out of there because I felt like such a prick. If I ever see him again, I’m bringing roses. He’s that cool.
Midnight. I get a call back from Brian. He’s flipping-out. We find ourselves giggling. Giggling is the right word for it. And something struck me this morning. We were laughing the way we used to. We had a conversation like we used. Our sense of humors were back in line. I had the components of the sappiest friendship story ever.
I had to find a way tell all of you there at Viewaskew that what you do has an impact on people’s lives. Being an artist and entertainer is important; especially during times like these. So thank you Kevin, thank you Jason and everyone there at Viewaskew. And thanks to our soldiers (Do I have no shame?)…keep fighting the good fight. Nootch.
Snoogins,
Michael C. Johnson