Ooze

A month ago or so Mike Castelaz and I spent about an hour reminiscing about Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles and our feelings on the upcoming movie. In the process one of us did a google image search and found a website dedicated to cataloging all the toys they ever produced from 1988 to the present.

It was strange looking at a plastic screen at an object I remember, vividly, holding in my hands; feeling each ridge, groove, and smoothed green, plastic surface. It was even weirder exchanging stories about Mike's vast collection to my limited but my neighbors complete collection of Ghostbusters toys and accessories. Of course, each memory runs thick like an old film in a older theatre, with oil burning lamps lining the walls and a curtain to accent the drama instead of bright like a film projector running choppy in your living room on a hot summer day, butts on the carpeted ground. Regardless, my face is always illuminated again, washed over anytime I remember baseball cards and gloves, hours in the pool, Transformers at six in the morning, and hurky jerky periods in my room, reading and hiccuped arguments around the dinner table.

"Gotta take the bitter with the sweet."