At the beginning of the year, while sitting through a very painful advanced film class (the content of the class was fine, the students unbearable), I stumbled across the idea of pairing silent films with current albums. (Not that I was the first to come up with such an idea. No, I don't consider myself an original, just a clever thief.) Due to a vicious cold that has knocked me on my ass for the time being, I finally got around to trying this.

First attempt: Diary of a Lost Girl (G.W. Pabst, 1929) and Rest (Gregor Samsa, 2008).

The results: fantastic.


I've been trying to come up with more ideas for pairings. I'm leaning toward the ambient experimental possibly Scandinavian for the music, and the obvious German masterpieces for the films. I think dark and moody is easier to pair than anything comedic, since timing is everything in those classic American comedies.

Possibility: The Cabinet of Dr. Caligari and Mickey Mouse Operation by Little People.

music: "Pseudonyms," Gregor Samsa

Fact #1: I have a crush on one of my coworkers.
Fact #2: The object of my affections is a dude.
Fact #3: It's a less of a crush than it is a full-blown infatuation.
Fact #4: He gets 99% of my references, whether it's to movies, tv, books, music, or quantum mechanics.
Fact #5: I really really like him.
Fact #6: It bothers me to no end.

music: "Jesus Wants Me For A Sunbeam," The Vaselines

I've lied. I've stolen. I've had pre-martial sex with persons of my own gender. I've denounced any kind of higher power. I've wished death upon people for no reason besides the fact that they annoy me.

I thought I might as well get rid of any morals I have left. Just for kicks.

music: "Rory Rides Me Raw," The Vaselines

Subtext (of Seduction): A
1: "Take Me In Your Arms," Kim Weston
2: "You Say You Don't Love Me," The Buzzcocks
3: "Not Fade Away," Buddy Holly
4: "Whole Wide World," Wreckless Eric
5: "This Little Heart," Françoise Hardy
6: "I Wanna Be Your Boyfriend," The Ramones
7: "I'm In Your Hands," Mary Love
8: "I'm Just Dreaming," The Rubettes
9: "Give Him A Great Big Kiss," The Shangri-Las
10: "Some Candy Talking," The Jesus and Mary Chain
11: "The One You Really Love," The Magnetic Fields

Subtext (of Seduction): B
1: "The Way I Feel Inside," The Zombies
2: "Diamond Meadows," T. Rex
3: "The Love You Save (May Be Your Own)," Joe Tex
4: "Love Will Tear Us Apart," Joy Division
5: "Good Feelings," Violent Femmes
6: "I Won't Share You," The Smiths
7: "Together (We'll Always Be)," Chuck Berry
8: "The Last Beat of My Heart," Siouxsie and The Banshees
9: "After Hours," The Velvet Underground
10: "Lola," The Raincoats

music: uhhhh, yeah.

I had a dream last night about falling in love with this sadistic man who had a fetish for tape-recording everything. I want to blame my weird mood on the dream, but the truth is, I've been in this mood for a while now. I would call it a slump, but that would mean the rest of my life would have to be noticeably better in comparison.

I shouldn't complain. It's not that bad.

I found out today that there's a man who belongs to the co-op named Eliot Smith. I also found out that being nice makes people think you actually like them. When I'm behind that register, I'm greeting card friendly. I'm Happy Meal cheery. I'm a fucking bouquet of smiles. But off the clock, I can be a straight up bitch.

I need to start sleeping again.

music: "Good Feeling," Violent Femmes

Soy chai can suck it.

music: The Life Aquatic soundtrack

What's the protocol for when an Italian man in his mid to late forties tells you that you should style your hair because men would find you more attractive, and then tells you the name of the hotel he's staying at, and he would pay you just to talk to him?

I just waited until he left my register, then I laughed in hysteria and horror.

Shit's been weird.

music: "Lunar Camel," Siouxsie & The Banshees

I watched The Illusionist while bored at my dad's house a few days ago. I appreciate the Edward Norton, even if the movie wasn't really that great. The thing that struck me about the movie is that it's pretty much The Usual Suspects, but magic instead of organized crime. Eisenheim is so Keyser Söze. Paul Giamatti running to the train station while experiencing that predictable epiphany is just an early 20th century edition of Chazz Palminteri chasing after Kevin Spacey while realizing that he's too late.

It's uncanny, but not really that surprising. News flash: Hollywood recycles stories.

Shock me, shock me, shock me with that deviant behavior.

music: "Gangsta Gangsta," N.W.A.

I have to go on medical withdraw again, and this time I'm not coming back. I don't know what I'll be doing in the fall, but for now, I just need to be at home.

I wish I could hire a team of neuroscientists to figure out what the fuck is wrong with my brain.

To express my emotions, I have decided to do a photo montage.

music: "Another Knight," Felt

A few weeks ago, I reread From The Mixed-up Files of Mrs. Basil E. Frankweiler for the first time in eleven years. I bought a used copy a day or so later, and am reading it again. There are very few literary characters I can really relate myself to, and Claudia Kincaid was one of the firsts.

I've decided to make a series of mixes that correspond to some of my favorite books.

music: "My Kingdom," Echo & The Bunnymen

Because Wilson is a cesspool of hippy love, we are experiencing a flu epidemic, and I have somehow fallen victim to it. I am sick for the first time in maybe six months. I've been unable to do much besides lie in bed all day, sleeping, watching movies and shows, popping this sketchy drug the health center is handing out- "coldonyl." I'm usually able to reach the level of competence necessary to interact with other living creatures around eleven p.m., but that's not very helpful.

I've fallen behind in my work hours, but I was able to get to every class but one this week. I had an exam in my social psych course that I was able to fly through despite being groggy as fuck and only having read the material the night before.

I like sleeping all the time. I forgot what it was like. But breathing through my nose would be nice, too.

music: "The Last Beat of My Heart," Siouxsie and the Banshees

From the time I wake up in the morning until after dinner, I'm busy. Every second of my day is full of obligations. None of my classes are particularly challenging content-wise, but the work for the classes is very time-consuming. Last Tuesday night, I started and finished a painting for design in five hours, with only a ten minute break during that span of time. It was the longest I've ever worked on any art piece.

I found out recently that, fall semester of last year, I was on the dean's list. My first reaction was to wonder what I could do if I actually put any effort into anything. I don't think I'm going to find out. Underachieving looks good on me.

I laid around all day and watched movies and shows, and drew, and fucked around on the internet.

Also:

music: "Once Upon A Time," Air

So, a few months ago, I was having an conversation with my dad about drugs, and he said that doing heroin is like fucking God's wife. I didn't really pry any further, so I don't really know how or why, or in what ways, but I got the general concept.

Yesterday, I got to wondering-- if heroin is like fucking God's wife, what would crack be? And acid? And meth? So I decided to try to figure it out. I am open to feedback, if anyone wants to dispute.

heroin : fucking God's wife
cocaine : giving God's niece a rim job
marijuana : bragging to your friends that you're going to finger God's second cousin, but falling asleep instead
crack : giving some guy who kind of looks like Jesus a blow job
acid : talking to God as he eats your left leg, but it only tickles
ecstasy : having a cluster fuck with God, Jesus, the Virgin Mary and a couple of hosts of angels
barbituates : cuddling with God until morning
meth: fucking God's wife, then God, then a stray dog who happens to pass by
nitrous oxide : fucking God's wife but ejaculating about thirty seconds into it

music: "Measure Up," Tom Tom Club

School's started. And I'm actually attending. I'm living in a suite with my friend Mary and two other girls I don't really know. Mary and I call it the Death Star, but we're not going to let our suite mates in on it.

In my psychology of music course the other day, we went around the room, and everyone named their favorite kinds of music. About 95% of the class claimed they like everything but rap and pop country. One particularly annoying dreaded white boy said he just listened to the two Bobs.

I was looking forward to escaping the Jersey girls of Bloomington, but what have I escaped to? At least the nasty sorostitutes were honest about being stupid cunts.

I haven't written more than twenty pages of fiction in the last ten months. I need to stop fucking around and get down to business.

music: "All The People I Like Are Those That Are Dead," Felt

Breaking Up Is Hard To Do mix, read as a conversation:

Person #1: "I'm leaving you because I don't love you." (Jens Lekman)
Person #2: "Don't go." (Nouvelle Vague)
Person #1: "I don't really love you anymore." (The Magnetic Fields)
Person #2: "You don't know!" (13th Floor Elevators)
Person #1: "I know it's over." (The Smiths)
Person #2: "Please do not go…" (Violent Femmes)
Person #1: "Gotta get away!" (The Rolling Stones)
Person #2: "You say you don't love me…" (The Buzzcocks)
Person #1: "I don't." (The Troggs)
Person #2: "I love you!" (The Zombies)
Person #1: "Just go away!" (Blondie)
Person #2: "I'm not going out like that." (Run-D.M.C.)
Person #1: "Stop your sobbing!" (The Kinks)
Person #2: "What about us?!" (The Coasters)
Person #1: "You mean nothing to me…" (Jay Reatard) "…nothing." (Love)
Person #2: *the sound of silence* (Simon & Garfunkel)
Person #1: "…It's not you." (The Cure) "I don't love anyone." (Belle & Sebastian)

music: duh.

1. Reply to this post and I will pick 3 of your icons and 7 of your interests.
2. Make a post (including the meme info) and talk about the icons/interests I chose.

My life is just a series of moments these days. One passes into the next, and I just sit by watching.

I'm still talking to her. Sometimes it's pleasant. Sometimes it's just weird. I'd like her in my life, but I don't know how.

Work is good, but tiring. Numbers just slip away from me most of the time. Probably not a good thing for a cashier.

Oh. I went to a real psychiatrist who decided that I'm not bipolar. Just depressed and anxious. She gave me some Wellbutrin, and so far, it's been helpful. So, I'm not crazy after all.

Or, not any more crazy than the average confused, heartbroken twenty-year-old.

Also-

music: "Yea Yeah," Matt & Kim