When I heard that you were coming to Sydney to do a Q&A with us, I knew I would have to get my hands on a ticket. No matter what.
Being a broke uni student makes such determination a bit problematic at times, but I knew I would be there. And, after deciding to make some sacrifices (i.e. not eating lunch for a week) I finally managed to scrape $44 together to get a ticket to your Monday night show.
Considering it was three days after my birthday, I was excited like a kangaroo on speed. What better 19th present could a guy receive than having a question answered by Kevin Smith?
Once I got to the Opera House I realised that I had a really shitty seat and was worried I wouldn't even get my chance to ask you anything. Especially since my mum had told me that the only way I would get a ride home is leaving at 10, and since public transport to my hood is so fucking shitty I had no choice. You can imagine how excited I was when I noticed we had a mic close to us. Halle-fucking-lujah! I would get to ask Kevin Smith a question!
Then the next problem came. What to ask?
You see Kevin, I don't know how to put this without sounding creepy...but you are my hero. I fucking worship you. As a filmmaker, as a writer and as an ugly cunt fucking a chick way hotter than anything he should be fucking. (Don't tell Jen I said that - I'm pretty sure after her turn as Missy in Jay and Silent Bob Strike Back she could kick my arse).
I literally have a million and one questions I want to ask you. Instead, I figured I'd have to limit myself to two or face the wrath of the crowd.
I was still trying to figure out what questions to ask when I heard you say it.
Shit, that was me. I was next in line. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.
I had narrowed it down to a few options.
I thought about sharing with you my best mate's Lesbian Girlfriend story. Basically, it involves him getting all depressed when his "girlfriend" (long story) outed herself to him but kept using him cause he's a fucking schmuck, and we took him for a night out which ended up with him drinking himself into a coma. Kinda like what would have happened if Banky and Hooper had taken Holden for a night out after Alyssa broke up with him at the end of Chasing Amy, only he never actually got to fuck his lesbian.
But I figured it would take too long. So I decided to keep it to questions.
Once I stood up at the mike, though, I fucking shat myself.
I'm a wannabe rapper. I usually have no problems with a crowd. But when I was speaking to Mr Kevin Fucking Smith himself...fuck. I forgot all my questions.
I tried to buy myself some time by letting you (and the entire crowd, which, despite your theory, did have a few people of the female persuasion) know that Fleshlight had a new customer, and you can bet your fat arse once I'm done with this I'm running down to the nearest porn shop and buying myself one. And yes, I am gonna name it Kevin, gay and creepy as that sounds.
Anyways, after that little bit of info I eventually got around to asking you a couple of questions about Twilight and the "sex nuts and retard strong" deleted scene from Clerks II. Just for the record - I had seen your Comic-Con speech on Twilight, I just wanted to hear it from the horses' mouth cause I had brought my 13 year old nephew along with me and wanted him to hear why Twilight isn't all evil, as much as the books and movies suck. Course, he pointed out to me that that theory only works if you glitter in the sunlight or can rip your shirt off to reveal steroidal pecs, so maybe it's kinda moot.
I would have loved to ask you more questions. Particularly as an aspiring filmmaker myself, I would have been able to ask you questions for hours about how you made Clerks in particular and where you went from there. Then I would have wanted to talk about Jason Mewes, considering that guys in school used to nickname me and best mate Jay and Silent Bob, with me as Jay. (Considering that I went to the all-girls school down the road on my last day of high school and did the Buffalo Bill dance during lunchtime just cause I thought it was funny, maybe you can see where I'm coming from). Just to hear you share Mewes stories and see how they stack up to his young protege.
But time's a bitch. So I had to hand the mike over. Soon after I was done, me and the kid had to leave and I couldn't hear everything.
But I didn't care.
I woke up at 6am this morning so I could get in to uni and free wireless early so I could write this to thank you. Even though I know you're about as likely to read this as I am to have a three way with those two Brazilian synchronised swimmers.
Thank you, Kevin. Thank you for getting on that plane, fearing fat-ist attendants and all, and coming all the way across the Pacific to talk to us. To talk to me.
Thank you for giving enough of a shit about your fans in a corner of the world who don't even give you that much money.
Thank you for simply giving a shit about your fans and communicating with us.
In short, thank you...for being you.
I don't know if you understand just how much you answering my questions last night meant to me, even if you thought I was just another stupid little shit asking you the same question you've heard before. Let me put it this way - I've had three great nights in my life. The night I lost my virginity, the night I hung out with the Foo Fighters, and August 9, 2010, when Kevin Motherfucking Smith took time out of fucking his wife and making awesome movies to come and speak to a bunch of stoned Sydneysiders with an average mental age of 12, one of whom was me.
I left that theatre knowing that if by chance I ever get anywhere making shitty short films or music videos, I will always be as open with my fans (even if my fanbase doesn't extend beyond seven stoned dudes and their dog) as you are with us.
Thank you, Kevin Smith.