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Orphan was actually kind of boring, which is amazing, because how in God's name can any movie with this plot description be boring?

This movie fell into that terrible trap of contemporary "horror", which attempts so much to avoid veering into exploitation and over-the-topness that even the most outlandish concepts still come across very flatly. If they had amped up the cheese level a little more it would have been more worthwhile. Although, the fine New Yorkers I shared a theatre with last night found it to be a laugh riot, so who can say?


Aug. 7th, 2009

I had a dream last night about an old flame that tangentially involved Livejournal, and so I thought, maybe I'll dust off the old place. My dreams have been weirdly nostalgic and vaguely sexual lately....there has been a little parade of old acquaintances making out with my subconscious dream self.

Right now I live in a small, but lovely light blue apartment in Northern New Jersey, where I accrue books and boyfriends at an alarming rate. I'm in love, in an agonizing, dramatic, wonderful way. I once burned a hole in his living room carpet and I was secretly glad I did it because now he has to think about me every time he looks at it. In a few weeks I start library science school at Pratt. I still sell books at a Major Chain Bookstore and I also make copies and e-mail things at Major Pharmaceutical Company library. I do a lot of yoga.

I think this summer's movie selection has been shit, but then I haven't seen Orphan yet. I really love Fake Nick Cave's Twitter. My ex-fiancee sent me a drunken letter that said that she was glad I broke up with her because it saved her from being with someone, in her words, "bourgeois and boring". I got back in touch with my best friend from high school, the Loeb to my Leopold, and I realized my sidekick days are over. Mad Men owns my heart, mind and soul.

So life is pretty damn good.

Some things I've looked at recently.

My assessment of Dollhouse: Boring. What's the point of a Whedon show without Whedonesque dialouge? I suppose time will tell, but it seems to episodic for me. Also, I hope the King of the Feminists is enjoying all the naked Eliza Dushku promo shots.

Oh, and Eliza Dushku has no range, so this is really going to be a fun ride.

It's not all snark and misery over here. I also saw Coraline last night, and I have to say, that was amazing. I'm so, so glad that Henry Selick did it and not Tim Burton, because Tim Burton has to impose his pop goth aesthetic on all his material and that tone would have been all wrong for this story. It was such a beautiful film, an amazing use of the stop-motion art form. Naturally, they didn't need to add a boy to what is a girl's story, but what are you going to do?

Incidentally, one day, I will reproduce the Other Mother's bug themed living room in my own home, so help me god.

Things to Complain About

- I am taking this class on the anthropology of the Middle East, and three weeks of the semester, most of my fellow classmates still seem to think that India is a middle eastern nation. The only ones who do not believe this, apparently, are the ones of middle eastern or Indian origin. And me, of course, but really, I'm a Citizen of the World.

- Pandora Radio keeps trying to get me to listen to Kraftwerk. Enough! I'm too old to get into that game.

- The Office has become an utter nightmare. Even if you still enjoy the show, you have to concede that it has gone off the rails.

- Lately I've been inadvertently waking up at 6 in the morning everyday. I am too tired to get up, but I can not get back to sleep. So I lie in bed and think about how I'm not going to get into grad school and Sagi (that's my current boyfriend) won't let me live with him and I'll have to go back and live with my mother. It's worse then any nightmare I've ever had.

Welcome back to me.

Hello there, Livejournal. It's good to see you again. My life had turned to bullshit around October, but recently, it's reverted back to it's usual pleasant state of mild anxiety.

Basically, the unbearable news that Mick Harvey left the Bad Seeds came out, and I've already told everyone I know who cares (IE- no one), so I felt that I should share my feelings with you, my neglected LJ friends. I find this incredibly upsetting. Mick was the best of them, we all know that. Idolator really hit the nail on the head with this one. Ugh. Warren Ellis. I guess we can look forward to a lot of violin and more of Nick's guitar stylings in the future. How bleak.

Well, it's a new year, I am beginning my last semester of college, I have a new boyfriend who is only semi-fluent in English, and a whole truckload of guilt over the ex-boyfriend, who likes to text me in the middle of night to tell me about Hell and how I'm going there.

Welcome back to my life!!
I think I am happy with the casualness of my current relationships, platonic and otherwise, and then it's late at night and David Foster Wallace is dead and I have no one to talk to except the Livejournal.

3 Notes

- When I was England, I was a regular patron at a wonderful basement after-hours bar in the London 'burbs, which played a truly delightful combination of indie, britpop and 80's nonsense. One of my fondest memories is utterly losing my shit with the Boy in the Leather Jacket to some amazingly peppy, very English sounding guitar song and feeling as fantastic as I have ever felt in my life. Although I could remember the sound of the song, the only lyrics I could recall were "Liverpool" and "happy", which in spite of some Googling, did not yield any results.
Then today, I was flipping through the channels and I passed by the generally shitty MTV University station and what should be playing but that very song, which turns out to be Let's Dance to Joy Division" by the Wombats. I will not lie to you, friends: I teared up. It just sounds like England and I'm a sentimental fool.

- Speaking of the Boy with the Leather Jacket, he maintains still that if I come back to England next year for grad school, he'll be waiting for me. That's hilarious.

- Also while flipping through the channels I saw a commercial for what will soon become your favorite band: Blackmore's Night. They are like the freakish love child of Stevie Nicks and Nightwish conceived in the middle of the Ren Faire.


One of the greatest joys in my life is the Independent Film Channel. Today Total Eclipse was on, which I hadn't seen in a million years. For those of you who aren't big into homoerotic literary bio-pics, it's a movie where a young Leonardo DiCaprio plays Arthur Rimbaud and David Thewlis plays Paul Verlaine. If that sounds really fantastic, let me assure you that it is not. It's badly paced and melodramatic, but so was I when I was 16, so I didn't notice at the time.

Fun Fact: The only piece of fiction I've ever had published was a story about going to high school with Arthur Rimbaud. It was not very good.

I still like Rimbaud, although ever since I started reading Catullus in Latin I've been very wart of translated poetry. I feel somehow cheated. I've never really read Rimbaud's words; just something that some English speaker thinks Rimbaud might have written if he wrote in English. French is pretty low on my list of languages to learn, however, so I doubt I will ever get to level of reading him in the original.

Most poets I like are male, Western, dead and total assholes, from Catullus down to Larkin. Sappho, Rumi, Dickinson, Stein and Auden (not an asshole) are the only exceptions I can think of at the moment. I'm not proud.

Amusing myself to LIFE!

Yesterday I went back to work, which was a blessing a curse. It was a blessing, because my job is actually one of my favorite aspects of my current life, and a curse because I am not entirely recovered from having an organ removed. Being on my feet for eight plus hours has left a pain that I suspect will linger.

It was also a curse because I missed Mad Men and I am addicted.

I've noticed in the past couple years my approach to TV shows has changed considerably. I'm less obsessive then I used to be, which can only be a good thing, but it's more then that. I used to focus on one aspect of a show, almost to the exclusion of all the other elements. Usually it was a character or a couple, and my obsessive devotion to this aspect caused me to miss the wider show in general. Usually I didn't even stop to think about whether or not it was any good.

If I'm not mentioning specific examples, that is because they are generally too embarrassing to repeat, although I will say The X-files was probably a fine example of this phenomenon. I was particularly obsessed with Fox Mulder, and it wasn't until I started revisiting the show in the past few years that I really come to understand exactly how much gobbleygook that series really consisted of. I admired Mulder because of what I thought of as his crusade for truth (although, honestly, it probably had more to do with my vested interest in romanticizing obsession), but of course, the great let down was that he was never going to find this truth, because Chris Carter himself clearly had no idea what it was. If a creator of fictional characters is a god to those characters, Carter was (and recent evidence proves still remains) pretty shit at it.

Anyway, these days, I tend to take a show as a whole. I invest more equally in every character, and as a result, less obsessively overall. I think more about the writing and the structure and (something that is extremely important to me) whether or not I can sense that the writers are invested in the lives of the characters. The big turning point was probably Buffy. I got into the show for a narrow, obsessive reason, namely the character of Spike (and this was back when that was a narrow interest indeed, before he was in every episode, ever). However, as I watched and absorbed more of the show, I became more interested in the broader story, what Joss Whedon and the writers were trying to say and both the good and bad ways which they approached the narratives. So Buffy grew me up as a television watcher, weirdly enough.

I'm glad for all this, because I wouldn't be able to appreciate Mad Men without it. There's no one I identify with nor any couples I care one way or another about, but I am still absorbed by it. All the characters need untangling and I'm enjoying the process of watching it happen.

Although, if you love obsessives (and I still do), I highly recommend reading or listening to an interview with creator Matt Weiner. As even a glance at the show would probably reveal, the man loves his details. I once heard him say that the fact that the shots of the office show the ceiling, and that the ceiling is the same kind of ceiling still used in office buildings, is the thing that makes the entire office set, and therefore the show, work. Amazing! Chris Carter never thought about ceilings, I'm sure.


My beloved World/Inferno Friendship Society are going to stage a production of their concept album Addicted to Bad Ideas, based upon the life of Peter Lorre. And where are they choosing to stage this, exactly? Oh, only at the very university which I happen to attend! This is truly a wonder. For instance, I wonder why they would chose this university, possibly the least hip place in all of metro New York (unless beer pong and loutishness are suddenly hip, which I certainly hope not)?

What a mystery. I will not waste time contemplating when I should be celebrating, however. It's not everyday one can take the intercampus shuttle to see one of one's top ten favorite bands, now is it?


Etant donnés
A bit of a Jack the Lad.

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