I’m not sure why I keep all my movie tickets. There’s no organization, not even a shoebox. They’re just scattered everywhere. Some are bookmarks. Many are in with my socks. Five seconds of scrounging around one of several junk drawers has turned up ticket stubs for The Autopsy of Jane Doe, Star Trek Beyond, Kamikaze ‘89 and The Lobster. It’s too haphazard to be called a collection, more just a reluctance to obliterate them. And who knows, maybe someday I’ll want them, maybe when nostalgia overwhelms my desperate fear of turning into a sentimental, old dumbass burrowing into claptrap and longing to hide from a world leaving me behind.
But for now I’m not even motivated enough to consolidate them to a single shoebox. That would feel too much like collecting. And then it’s only a matter of months before I’m filling file cabinets with clip-outs from Fangoria or alphabetizing my teeth.
But this movie ticket stub idea is a good one:
Whoever last owned my copy of The Lord of the Rings found a solution, at least for some small portion of their movie ticket stubs.
Sure, not all movies are books and you don’t have all the movie books, anyway. But a quick survey of my shelves offers a lot of possibilities. Starship Troopers is getting remade. And there’s the trade for Godzilla: The Half-Century War that could use a Shin Godzilla stub. Crystal Lake Memories is just waiting for a stub from the 13th Friday the 13th movie. If Episode VIII is good enough, The Making of Star Wars could bear to enshrine its stub. Authority is getting a movie. Slade House should be…
There are opportunities.
But does this demean either the book or the movie, lashing them to each other, even when one is always disserved by the other? This is the question I will ask myself to avoid actually getting out a glue stick.
