February 13th, 2012
|07:54 pm - Active Child|
Whenever i'm out and listening to music on my phone and an Active Child songs comes on, there's almost never a time when it's not followed by another Active Child song. Now, that in itself is kind of weird, but today my phone played out ALL the Active Child songs on the phone one after another. When it was done, i took it out and checked if it was on shuffle and it was. Now, what are the odds of that happening? That's some magical, metaphysical, astral indigo chakra-khan mothaflippin shit right there.
When the last song came on i was first utterly amazed, but then, scared! Because i thought, oh my god, what will happen when the last Active Child song plays out? What will happen? Something has to happen! My cellphone can't just randomly play all the Active Child songs one after another only for LIFE TO GO ON LIKE NOTHING HAPPENED!!?!? But NOTHING fucking happened, and it would have been so cool if i died! Or woke up from the matrix pod.
February 10th, 2012
|07:34 am - Dreamsy|
I had such a weird dream. I dreamt i was vacationing at some Russian resort for rich tourist, i too was apparently rich. It was at a large lakeside and it was very sunny and nice. There was a hotel there that had call girls, it had a catalog of call girls, and me being the call girl aficionado i am decided to take some. I browsed the catalog and there were some real knockouts in there. They cost about 800 euros a night. I picked two that i saw myself falling in love with and went upstairs to wait for them. Except upstairs wasn't my room, it was a big cinema theater and each person was renting a row. I went into my row and saw my girls were waiting there for me. I took off my clothes and got comfortable, but when it came time to do something i was nervous, i had performance anxiety and just wanted to talk and cuddle with them. But the whole time i kept thinking "I'm spending 1600 euros on cuddling!??".
Tomorrow i thought i'd get another one and try it with her. I gave the catalog another look and found a really amazing one. But when she turned up she was like 50. She still looked good, but older. She was nervous i wouldn't like her and kept apologizing that the photo in the catalog was not recent, a couple of times she straight up wanted to leave but i kept comforting her that nothing is wrong. I don't know what happened with her, but tomorrow i was on a terrace with a bunch of call girls, including the three of mine, and they kept talking to me and teasing me, and i tried to tease back and be playful, but pretty much accepted to losing the upper hand faced with such a number of giggling girls. At one point i called them hookers, which resulted in gasps and no you didn'ts, but then they started calling me hooker-boy and giggling again.
The other thing is, Conan was there. Not with me, but in the Russian resort. He was doing some kind of 4 day gig for the rich tourists. I wasn't paying much attention to it, but i knew it was supposed to end with a bang on the fourth day so i got my butt down to the lakeside beach where it was happening. When i got there Conan was strutting around with a microphone, naked. He had a belly and a tiny penis that was so tiny it looked like it was erect, it couldn't flop down, it just stuck out from his crotch like a tiny turtle head. I guess that was the big finale, Conan giving everyone a look at his tiny penis. I sat down on the beach and listened to him go on, he pretended he was annoyed and bored with everything, you know, in a faux curmudgeony way, but i kind of felt it was a real defense reaction to exposing his shameful secret.
And that was it, tomorrow i packed up and left. But not before i complained to the hotel staff that if their hookers were 400 euros i'd gladly spend another 800, but this way i didn't feel like spending 800 on just one.
February 8th, 2012
|10:34 am - Midnight in Paris|
What a crappy movie! What a colossal self-indulging wank! Wanked right into my eyes!
So here's a guy, a presumably successful screenwriter, trying to establish himself as a serious novelist and not quite getting the hang of it. But is that driving the plot? No. Does that develop gradually toward a meaningful resolution and conclusion? No. At one isolated point that has no dramatic progression toward it, that has no catalyst, and which doesn't offer or make way toward a grander or final conclusion, he just gets some vague pointers that give us no actual insight into what he lacked as a writer, or what he supposedly gained. What are the pointers? They're that his writing is too lacking in hope. But since his novel's protagonist runs a nostalgia store, we don't know if it's hopeless because he's looking to escape reality, or hopeless because he succumbs to it, or maybe hopeless in some other way. It's just cheap, meaningless dribble.
So what else is going on with him? He's a romantic, he's got a yearning for the olden days. Though his antagonist view it as escapism and weakness. He travels to the olden days, they turn out to be great. Party party, everyone's famous, everyone's a character, everyone's enjoying themselves. Looks like the olden days really are awesome! Except, no they're not, because after spending the majority of the film enjoying himself and romping around the olden days, he realizes that his dependance on nostalgia and romanticizing the past is a flaw and an escape from reality. Really? That conclusion certainly didn't deserve a feature length movie, not only because it's a fucking pitiful conclusion, but because none of the movie actually focused on, or slowly developed toward pointing out or supporting that conclusion, on the contrary!
There's also a love story. He's got a bitchy, shallow fiance who's just jammed in there for the sole purposes of him triumphing over her at one point. A most horrid, one-dimensional character if there ever was one, giving us no glimpse at how they could have possibly ever ended up together, making their relationship a contrived mess. So he travels to the olden days, meets a nice girl, they get along and fall in love, and then this one semblance of an actual cohesive and recognizable storyline reaches a dead end when he decides that she's misguided, unable to cope with the here and now, just like him, and then just fucking leaves her, with no second thought, shitting all over the moments they spent together. So that love story was not the point!
So what was the point? What concrete conclusions are we left with? He's unable to cope with reality, with the present, and looking for escape is a flaw and a folly. But does he change accordingly? No. He decides to leave his fiance and move to Paris, the city he loves because it reminds him of the olden days, and then hits it up with a pretty young thing who he connects with over their common love of nostalgia and sense of romance, like, moments after he left someone over her love of nostalgia and sense of romance. What a fucking putrid mess!
And that's the end! His actions are pointless, and he proves his antagonists right! Now if this was a Lars Von Trier movie, or a Bergman movie, i'd get it. It would be a film about how humans are aimlessly wandering vacuous nothings with no semblance of meaning, worth or direction to their thoughts or lives. But it's not, it's a Woody Allen movie. So what it is really, is a self-indulging wank, peddling cheap, chewed up wisdom in attempt to portray itself as more. It's Woody Allen fantasizing about meeting and being friends with all his idols of the olden times and having fun with them, it's about nostalgia and melancholy of Allen and him indulging in it, which is just another way it makes a total ridiculous mockery of the only clear conclusion the protagonist traveled toward and reached, which was that he's foolish for behaving as such.
The worst thing is, Woody Allen had a great opportunity to give life to some of the artistic greats of the past, but all of their characters were based on some simple and well known fact or trait they possessed, such a narrow focus giving them the depth of caricatures, not people.
January 25th, 2012
|07:58 am - Dreams|
I had such weird dreams. I dreamt Jack McBrayer was a soldier and was gay, fighting in some war abroad. All the other soldiers were making fun of him for being gay, drawing cartoons of him dressed as a lady and what not. Then, one day, a soldier brought a baby to the base. The baby's parents were accidentally killed in an attack the soldier participated in. Jack saw the baby and was immediately taken by it. He took it, and cradled it, and wanted to take care of it. The other soldiers felt guilty for what they did to the baby's family and saw Jack's care for the baby as redemptive of them all, so they all petitioned to let him have the baby, and it worked. But the baby wasn't a regular baby, it looked like a shrunken old man, and sometimes through it's goo gooing and gaa gaaing it would say wise and complicated things. Later, when Jack left the military, he wrote a biting piece on his experiences, called something like "The big macho gay soldier", or something like that.
Then i had a dream i was a small kid and i was out in the park with my parents. We were having a nice time, but soon, through some strange ways, it became apparent that i was adopted. And, that my, now adoptive parents, were Serbian. But i didn't mind, and they didn't mind that i knew, they still loved me. We took a train trip, and as we traveled i grew older and it was time for me to leave them. The train stopped at some small town, i said my goodbyes to them and got off. I looked at their faces as turned to wave to them, they were so kind and i could see sadness through their smiles. I already missed them.
And then i had a third dream where i found a machine that played comedy sketches from aspiring acts that entered some kind of competition. Oh, and also cannibal witch pirates occupied a castle i lived in, so i had to sneak out, and hide in back yards of neighboring houses so they wouldn't find me.
January 8th, 2012
|03:21 pm - We need to talk about Kevin|
I didn't like this movie. Firstly, i don't like that they tried to play both the nature and nurture game, and i don't like it even more that they played it so badly. She was a reluctant and incompetent mother, but also he was a dick and made evil faces from an early age. Really? Made evil faces as a little child? Unnecessary to note that plenty of people had terrible mothers and they didn't turn out murderers, but of course they're likely making a finer point that genetic predispositions, when triggered by environmental causes, result in a perfect storm. Except the problem is they make him such a grotesque caricature of evil since such an early age that her incompetence and impact seem miniscule and insignificant compared to it all. He gives evil glances, he says evil things, he relishes in them. Which leaves us only with nature. But that's not how real psychopaths work. They aren't created with a perfect acceptance and understanding of their evil since the earliest age. They're often confused by it, even made uneasy. It's only as time goes by that they come to accept it and succumb to it as inevitable. And even then they aren't perfect evil machines, they still have moments of doubt. And here we're supposed to believe the existence of this absurdly evil little child, who is so evil that he's neither believable as a product of nature nor a product of nurture. And that's how they fuck up the whole movie.
December 25th, 2011
|09:45 am - How to sleep|
A terrible way to pretend to be sleeping is to keep your eyebrows up and make your mouth slightly frowny. Many people when they pretend to be sleeping make this face, it's the "eh, i guess" face, or the "well, if you say so" face. You know, the face of unconvinced, detached agreement. Why would that ever be a good face to illustrate sleep? What's the method behind it? "Well, when you're sleeping, you don't know that you're sleeping, so i make a face that says "Eh, I guess i'm sleeping! I don't know!"'. Just terrible.
December 21st, 2011
|06:07 pm - Snooze|
My dreams couldn't be LESS intangible and symbolic lately. Like yesterday, i dreamt that i was a chef in a restaurant, one of the chefs, and whenever an order would come in another chef would snatch it and i'd never get to make anything, and then i was afraid i'd get fired for being useless. Then i had a dream i was visiting the parents of my girlfriend and they didn't like me because they straight up thought i sucked. I couldn't be more in touch with my unconscious and it's KILLING ME. Please be more vague and nonsensical, dreams!
December 20th, 2011
|10:27 am - The Worst|
Recently i was in a group of people where we thought of saying the worst things we've ever thought, of doing or in general, but everyone was pretty shy about starting. I've thought of some pretty bad things in my time, so i decided to get the ball rolling by admitting to mine. But this seemingly full-proof plan failed by the fact that it appears my worst things were so bad that no one wanted to share theirs for fear of having mine look loathsome in contrast. Ha, crazy.
December 19th, 2011
|07:36 am - Girls|
I like girls. Girls are the most important thing in my life. I like them emotionally, i like them intellectually, i like them physically. I don't know what i would do if girls stopped existing. I mean, i'm pretty much a dorkus and am socially inept, so it's not like i have much use for girls, but i just like that they exist, i like seeing them on the street. I'd rather keep yearning futilely after girls than get rid of that aspect of my existence. At the same time i realize they're ordinary human beings, with feelings, thoughts, doubts, fears, misconceptions, the mutual human spectrum, who individually mostly don't see themselves as spectacular, or special. Maybe because i'm able to retain both such a view, and an idealistic one characteristic for the opposite gender is why i like them so much. It's a good thing i'm not good looking or i'd be breaking hearts all over. Not to prove my manliness or virility, that would be the last thing on my mind, but simply driven by the love of girls, the desire to experience closeness and human contact with as many of them, because they're all so wonderful and unique, i'd just want to feel and know the inner self of them all, for loving only one would be like loving a single rock, or a single blade of grass, while ignoring the rest of the glorious and amazing scope of the world.
December 12th, 2011
|09:28 am - M83|
I don't like the new M83 album. I feel it's gone all pansy ass poser. The music used to have this engulfing underdog grit, like a small group of outcasts leaving the grim, decaying world behind and getting lost in the night. Even on S=Y, though less gritty, there was an element of downtrodden triumph. But here, that feeling is thin and superficial, shifting the theme from desperate camaraderie and earnest, desolate yearning, to pretend-playing outcast, with only a vague and surface understanding of the notion. Sounding like a more shoegazy and pretentious Postal Service.