A POEM TO END THE YEAR A man walks in the sunshine with his girl toward the mall. He is obviously on his break from a retail store, tie, white shirt, a clean fade. They kiss, And he casually drops his soda can in a flower bed as they walk on, arm in arm. About 30 feet away, near the entrance they are about to stroll through, there is, you know... A cement trash receptical. Which is consistantly emptied and lined with a clean plastic bag by a set of men paid to do just that. And yet, everything churns on. After all, there are problems to deal with; Rent, food, car payments, phone bills, clothes, the kid(s), mom’s illness, tv shows, the game, the beers, pills, hair dye, dust, scratches, dents, the weather, the boss, the thirst... again. Living. So inconvenient. We make movies about it. Analize it. Paint it. Write it. Sing it. Fuck it. —Jenkins ( Jason Lee nails it in the Quicktime clip. See you in 2001. )