Oldboy: This was probably one of the most surreal and sickening movies I've ever seen this side of David Lynch. Featuring compelling performances from Korean actors I've never heard of, director Park Chan-Wook's most popular film is full of style, action, and bizarre storytelling. This movie's quite a trip, but it pulls it off extremely well. Plus, the ending is all kinds of fucked up.
Raging Bull: Some argue that Taxi Driver is Scorsese's best work. I certainly don't disagree that that was several kinds of amazing, but Raging Bull is the textbook definition of character study done well. And it's Robert De Niro in the title role, how can you lose? Shot in crisp black and white, perhaps to emphasize the brutality of boxing, Raging Bull is the raw, unadulterated, all-grown-up version of Rocky. No montages here, just brutal beatdowns and the inner conflict of a horrible yet sympathetic human being.
WALL-E: There is no movie sweeter than WALL-E. I challenge you to find one. You couldn't? I figured as much! Drawing on the charms of the silent film, Andrew Stanton's love story between two adorable robots, one a curious, lonely, and caring trash compactor unit and the other a slick, badass, bounty-hunting vegetation evaluator, is funny, heartfelt, and just generally awesome. There's some half-baked subtext in there too, but I was too busy watching the robots dance in space to pay attention to it. Also, Jeff Garlin as a fat space captain. How fitting.
The Shawshank Redemption: This movie is a little heavy-handed in its message, but you can overlook that for the amazing performances from Morgan Freeman, Tim Robbins, and that bastard Bob Gunton. Even though it's a bit unrealistic, the ending will have you singing with the birds for days, which is impressive for a prison film. That Stephen King whore Frank Darabont sure knows how to make a good movie.
Fargo: This is easily one of the funniest movies I've ever seen. The Coens' dark and dry masterpiece hits all the right notes with a hilarious cast. The film is kind of a study of Minnesotan culture as well with outrageous accents all over the place (The prostitute interrogation scene had me doubled over). Like most Coens' films, it's also ridiculously violent, which goes perfectly with the wry script.
PS. Who the fuck still honestly reads this? I just spent two rambly entries shamelessly promoting myself for no adequate reason. You'd think you people would have better things to do than indulge my narcissistic whims. But the fact that you do means I love you.
Tuesday, July 28, 2009
Monday, July 27, 2009
Brief jusifications Part 1
Being that my snarky reserves are currently being tapped for the upcoming travelogue, as well as yet another script I'm working on, I feel that utilizing my funny bone for a vanilla blog entry would be squandering my talents. So instead I'm going to use it to plug my top ten movies of all time, and hopefully compel readers to watch them, if only so I can say "Haha, if you had listened to me sooner, you would've embraced this cinematic nirvana much earlier, you poof!" So without further adieu, here we go:
Blade Runner: I feel as though this cannot be said enough: Blade Runner is one of the most relevant movies ever made, which is even more impressive considering it was made over 25 years ago. Full of heavy thematic material, such as what it means to be human, memories, death and revenge, director Ridley Scott's opus also contains pertinent questions for the 21st century. What happens when we create sentient beings capable of emotion? Are they truly human? Are they lesser beings? The marvel of the film is that it poses all these philosophical ponderings without weighing down the rest of the film. It's as perfect as perfect gets.
The Good, The Bad, and the Ugly: Sergio Leone is a master of style if nothing else. But the final installment in the Man with No Name trilogy is easily the greatest, with interesting characters, a mesmerizing score from master Ennio Morricone, and wicked gunfights. All of this is wrapped up in Leone's trademark style; the panoramic shots of the vast and barren desert, the extreme close-ups in the duels, and a simultaneous fast and slow pace. There's no questions for the ages here; it's three-way hunt for treasure with cowboys and guns. And I wouldn't have it any other way.
Apocalypse Now: Before Francis Ford Coppola went into a seemingly perpetual slump in his career (pretty much anything after the 70s), he directed what's considered one of the finest war films ever. Easily dwarfing the overrated Full Metal Jacket and Platoon, Apocalypse Now succeeds due to Coppola's spotless direction and brilliant thematic material. Time after time, war has been portrayed as ugly and horrid, but this film actually manages to make it seem fresh by juxtaposing it alongside one man's descent into madness as he hunts down someone even crazier. Combine it with Martin Sheen and Marlon Brando's mindblowing performances and you have a recipe for a movie that's probably the best of its decade.
The Dark Knight: Now this is one that everyone's probably already seen. Christopher Nolan's gritty reinvention of the Caped Crusader was excellent in Batman Begins, but the inner conflict, both in Bruce Wayne's mind and in the city of Gotham doesn't truly kick in until the Joker shows up. Nolan's take on the dichotomy of the two characters, as well as Harvey Dent's insane quest makes this not just an oustanding summer movie, but an intriguing character study of the Dark Knight and his villains. Plus, Heath Ledger as the Joker, come on now.
Trainspotting: One of Danny Boyle's earliest works is also his greatest and most energetic. Establishing himself as a premiere of style, Trainspotting transcends the label of "drug movie" and becomes something else entirely. With a frenetic pace and raw depictions of the drug scene in Edinburgh, combined with some very sympathetic characters, Boyle's work is special in more ways than one. Though it's a very serious film at heart, it's also filled with hilarious dialogue and sequences that truly make it special.
PS. Part 2 coming tomorrow. Or the next day. Or next month. Or something.
Blade Runner: I feel as though this cannot be said enough: Blade Runner is one of the most relevant movies ever made, which is even more impressive considering it was made over 25 years ago. Full of heavy thematic material, such as what it means to be human, memories, death and revenge, director Ridley Scott's opus also contains pertinent questions for the 21st century. What happens when we create sentient beings capable of emotion? Are they truly human? Are they lesser beings? The marvel of the film is that it poses all these philosophical ponderings without weighing down the rest of the film. It's as perfect as perfect gets.
The Good, The Bad, and the Ugly: Sergio Leone is a master of style if nothing else. But the final installment in the Man with No Name trilogy is easily the greatest, with interesting characters, a mesmerizing score from master Ennio Morricone, and wicked gunfights. All of this is wrapped up in Leone's trademark style; the panoramic shots of the vast and barren desert, the extreme close-ups in the duels, and a simultaneous fast and slow pace. There's no questions for the ages here; it's three-way hunt for treasure with cowboys and guns. And I wouldn't have it any other way.
Apocalypse Now: Before Francis Ford Coppola went into a seemingly perpetual slump in his career (pretty much anything after the 70s), he directed what's considered one of the finest war films ever. Easily dwarfing the overrated Full Metal Jacket and Platoon, Apocalypse Now succeeds due to Coppola's spotless direction and brilliant thematic material. Time after time, war has been portrayed as ugly and horrid, but this film actually manages to make it seem fresh by juxtaposing it alongside one man's descent into madness as he hunts down someone even crazier. Combine it with Martin Sheen and Marlon Brando's mindblowing performances and you have a recipe for a movie that's probably the best of its decade.
The Dark Knight: Now this is one that everyone's probably already seen. Christopher Nolan's gritty reinvention of the Caped Crusader was excellent in Batman Begins, but the inner conflict, both in Bruce Wayne's mind and in the city of Gotham doesn't truly kick in until the Joker shows up. Nolan's take on the dichotomy of the two characters, as well as Harvey Dent's insane quest makes this not just an oustanding summer movie, but an intriguing character study of the Dark Knight and his villains. Plus, Heath Ledger as the Joker, come on now.
Trainspotting: One of Danny Boyle's earliest works is also his greatest and most energetic. Establishing himself as a premiere of style, Trainspotting transcends the label of "drug movie" and becomes something else entirely. With a frenetic pace and raw depictions of the drug scene in Edinburgh, combined with some very sympathetic characters, Boyle's work is special in more ways than one. Though it's a very serious film at heart, it's also filled with hilarious dialogue and sequences that truly make it special.
PS. Part 2 coming tomorrow. Or the next day. Or next month. Or something.
Monday, July 13, 2009
A few thoughts
I've forced myself to stay sober for at least a month following my latest enlightenment, triple-fade episode in mid-June. I like to think I kicked that challenge straight in the face, abstaining from all forms of drugs, alcohol, and tobacco. It wasn't exactly difficult, but I've realized that in my journey, if you could call it that, that I miss not only the pleasures that it afforded me, but the risk and danger that came with it. For some strange reason, I thrive on both sides of the coin.
But now I've broken my sobriety and, as we speak, am off in other realms, feeling incredibly good about it. I want to convey something, however. I'm not a druggie. I will never let drugs grab ahold of me. The dangerous territory, the addictive amphetamines and opioids are as far as we go. And those are strictly, strictly limited to once in a blue moon. This is a dangerous game I'm playing, and I pride myself on being extremely knowledgeable on all the rules and being aware, at all times, of the risks and rewards involved.
My usage is simply another activity. It's not habit, it's not a tic; I simply don't need it. But what it does is offer me something to do. It's similar to the projects I'm currently working on. To me, it's no different than writing scripts, working on the movie, reading experimental literature, and watching foreign films. Everything I do, I do to gain experience, to make myself more knowledgeable on a certain subject, because that's who I am, someone who thirsts for the satisfaction to his curiosity. In the past, I've taken stuff for the wrong reasons, to alleviate depression, to escape from my problems, but I've wisened up. Everything I do is an experiment and an experience. I want to try new things, and I want to learn. As a teenager in the prime of life, I think I'm certainly entitled to explore what the world has to offer me.
This might sound like some ridiculous rationalization by a drug addict, but I assure you, it isn't. I'm not addicted to anything. Not people, not drugs, not squandering my money in Thai brothels. It's all part of the plan. The plan to have as good a time as possible before I'm off in the land of even better times.
PS. Love you all. Travelogue from the New York trip will be coming up shortly.
But now I've broken my sobriety and, as we speak, am off in other realms, feeling incredibly good about it. I want to convey something, however. I'm not a druggie. I will never let drugs grab ahold of me. The dangerous territory, the addictive amphetamines and opioids are as far as we go. And those are strictly, strictly limited to once in a blue moon. This is a dangerous game I'm playing, and I pride myself on being extremely knowledgeable on all the rules and being aware, at all times, of the risks and rewards involved.
My usage is simply another activity. It's not habit, it's not a tic; I simply don't need it. But what it does is offer me something to do. It's similar to the projects I'm currently working on. To me, it's no different than writing scripts, working on the movie, reading experimental literature, and watching foreign films. Everything I do, I do to gain experience, to make myself more knowledgeable on a certain subject, because that's who I am, someone who thirsts for the satisfaction to his curiosity. In the past, I've taken stuff for the wrong reasons, to alleviate depression, to escape from my problems, but I've wisened up. Everything I do is an experiment and an experience. I want to try new things, and I want to learn. As a teenager in the prime of life, I think I'm certainly entitled to explore what the world has to offer me.
This might sound like some ridiculous rationalization by a drug addict, but I assure you, it isn't. I'm not addicted to anything. Not people, not drugs, not squandering my money in Thai brothels. It's all part of the plan. The plan to have as good a time as possible before I'm off in the land of even better times.
PS. Love you all. Travelogue from the New York trip will be coming up shortly.
Monday, July 6, 2009
A short one
I've returned from the Big Apple, a place I felt more at home than any where else. It's the equivalent of a UC school - gigantic, anonymous, full of its own culture, and capable of devouring your soul if you so much as let your guard down for a few minutes. I got to experience the local culture (the food there is absolutely sublime), and check out their movie scene - all great fun.
However, that being said, some serious bullshit that I didn't need happened on the trip. Shit like parents and grandparents coming along and killing the buzz every time I wanted to break off on my own. Shit like stupid confrontations and arguments that pretty much murdered all the enjoyment. Shit like going to an amazing city and not experiencing the nitty-gritty and instead going to the tourist traps that aren't even exciting (I didn't even get to go inside the Statue of Liberty, just got to stand in her shadow). My little movie theater excursions were microcosms of experiencing what the city had to offer. Aimlessly meandering Times Square with crowds so thick that you need a weed whacker just to move five feet is not my idea of a good time. It's cool to look at for about 30 seconds, but kind of meaningless when you could be experiencing so much more.
Lastly, shit happened. Killed my buzz, as if it weren't dead already after being chewed out mercilessly for two hours. But all in all, a good trip. The detailed travelogue will be coming soon.
PS. Maaaaaan, that's messed up.
However, that being said, some serious bullshit that I didn't need happened on the trip. Shit like parents and grandparents coming along and killing the buzz every time I wanted to break off on my own. Shit like stupid confrontations and arguments that pretty much murdered all the enjoyment. Shit like going to an amazing city and not experiencing the nitty-gritty and instead going to the tourist traps that aren't even exciting (I didn't even get to go inside the Statue of Liberty, just got to stand in her shadow). My little movie theater excursions were microcosms of experiencing what the city had to offer. Aimlessly meandering Times Square with crowds so thick that you need a weed whacker just to move five feet is not my idea of a good time. It's cool to look at for about 30 seconds, but kind of meaningless when you could be experiencing so much more.
Lastly, shit happened. Killed my buzz, as if it weren't dead already after being chewed out mercilessly for two hours. But all in all, a good trip. The detailed travelogue will be coming soon.
PS. Maaaaaan, that's messed up.
Tuesday, June 23, 2009
Far Cry
Looking back on that incredibly mopey and indulgent blog entry makes me realize what a whiny bastard I've been, a mindset that can only manifest itself if I'm feeling extremely good about myself, which I currently am. My Friday was mind-blowing in so many ways that perhaps it was the catalyst I needed to turn my shit completely around. Who can argue with a Counter burger, watching the soon-to-be-classic Moon, and kicking it with the gents for the night? The depressive attitude I had lingered on afterwards, but once this week started, I was just on top of everything.
For God's sake, I've started to go running in the early morning (10 AM is still early in my book, heh), tanning, watching Curb Your Enthusiasm and attempting to give myself a manicure (failed so, so miserably). Through just sheer force of will, I've compelled myself to change and try new things, things that have ultimately paid off in making me happy, or whatever. The house doesn't feel like a prison any more, but more like my personal playhouse. It's a nice feeling to know that everything you're doing is ultimately contributing to the benefit of your mental and physical health.
I might have broken a sobriety oath on graduation night, but I figure that a one-time exception on my graduation night is hardly a blight on my existence. I definitely don't mind doing that shit once in a while, but I am absolutely not centering my life around it. I've come to realize I can't stand it when that's the only thing to do when I'm with people. It's pointless, excessive, and often very, very boring. I'm all for hedonism, but a line's got to be drawn somewhere. I am excising the negative.
Prospects are looking bright. No jobs or whatever, but my scripts have been read by people who can actually do something for me, which I was extremely surprised and grateful for (Thanks be to Hollie). Pretty girl from Santa Barbara is talking to me, which is also great practice for the real deal, and I'm gearing up for the environment that will greet me when I go down there in July for orientation. I'm no longer petrified; I'm looking forward to it immensely. Like Poison once said, it will be "nothin' but a good time."
Bear in mind, I'm not one of those fucking hysterically positive, butter-side-up, types. The rain's just stopped. Maybe it'll be back. You never know with Bay Area weather. But at the moment, there's not much that's causing me to cut myself and writing shitty poetry with my own blood. Things are looking up for this old codger.
PS. If that agent can get my script to the right places, I will officially begin to wear a cross and sing praises of Allah. Seriously.
For God's sake, I've started to go running in the early morning (10 AM is still early in my book, heh), tanning, watching Curb Your Enthusiasm and attempting to give myself a manicure (failed so, so miserably). Through just sheer force of will, I've compelled myself to change and try new things, things that have ultimately paid off in making me happy, or whatever. The house doesn't feel like a prison any more, but more like my personal playhouse. It's a nice feeling to know that everything you're doing is ultimately contributing to the benefit of your mental and physical health.
I might have broken a sobriety oath on graduation night, but I figure that a one-time exception on my graduation night is hardly a blight on my existence. I definitely don't mind doing that shit once in a while, but I am absolutely not centering my life around it. I've come to realize I can't stand it when that's the only thing to do when I'm with people. It's pointless, excessive, and often very, very boring. I'm all for hedonism, but a line's got to be drawn somewhere. I am excising the negative.
Prospects are looking bright. No jobs or whatever, but my scripts have been read by people who can actually do something for me, which I was extremely surprised and grateful for (Thanks be to Hollie). Pretty girl from Santa Barbara is talking to me, which is also great practice for the real deal, and I'm gearing up for the environment that will greet me when I go down there in July for orientation. I'm no longer petrified; I'm looking forward to it immensely. Like Poison once said, it will be "nothin' but a good time."
Bear in mind, I'm not one of those fucking hysterically positive, butter-side-up, types. The rain's just stopped. Maybe it'll be back. You never know with Bay Area weather. But at the moment, there's not much that's causing me to cut myself and writing shitty poetry with my own blood. Things are looking up for this old codger.
PS. If that agent can get my script to the right places, I will officially begin to wear a cross and sing praises of Allah. Seriously.
Monday, June 22, 2009
Iran so far away
The turmoil in Iran is an interesting situation, but I feel an ultimately futile one. American intervention in the country, like American intervention in any country, fucked the region fifty ways from Sunday. Apparently, the brilliant minds at Langley didn't consider that the millions of pissed-off Persians, strongly averse to the idea of a pro-Western puppet government would rise up against the regime and install an Islamic republic, a synonym for "despotic religious dictator state." The funnier thing about that era was that Americans were so paranoid about Communism spreading in the Middle East that we supplied weapons to Saddam Hussein, thinking "Hey, we can disarm him any time, he won't be any trouble at all!" A horrendously ironic mistake we would make not ten years later when we would arm the Taliban and train Osama bin Laden to combat the Soviets in Afghanistan. The lesson here is to 1. Not screw with the Arabs and 2. Forget about intervening anywhere.
But I digress. The Iran situation, the mass protest is symbolic of, I think, two things. First and foremost is the buildup of resentment against the Ayatollah Khomeini and his whole bullshit regime. He's the Rasputin behind the throne, in a way, the real voice behind Ahmadinejad. Ahmadinejad is just a figurehead, no real power, no real sway. But the youth in Iran are openly rebelling and protesting against the corruption in the government, which is to say that the next generation in Iran will remember how horrible and ridiculous this notion of a "theocractic republic" is. The youth have the capacity to change things in Iran, and I believe that they can do so if they keep up this open rebellion.
Secondly is the desire for real democracy. Now, democracy isn't always a good thing, but in this case, it's at least preferable to a Supreme Religious Prophet running things. The whole Middle East is as stable as an epileptic at a rave, but if the Iranians can do away with the extremely strict cultural norms, relax their anti-Semitism, ease in a more democratic and involved system of a government, than perhaps it'll be the first state in the region to chill the hell out. As far as Iraq is concerned, there are less attacks every day, less soldiers dying; it's a lot more stable. And if they can maintain it, perhaps set an example, then maybe Syria, Jordan, hell even Palestine, can follow suit. Israel could finally take off its body armor before going to bed.
But it all hinges on the countries stabilizing themselves. Foreign intervention will simply exacerbate matters and further alienate the Arab world. Give peace a chance, you fucking war-mongering assholes.
PS. Now all we have to do is exterminate the religious right in America and all will be well.
But I digress. The Iran situation, the mass protest is symbolic of, I think, two things. First and foremost is the buildup of resentment against the Ayatollah Khomeini and his whole bullshit regime. He's the Rasputin behind the throne, in a way, the real voice behind Ahmadinejad. Ahmadinejad is just a figurehead, no real power, no real sway. But the youth in Iran are openly rebelling and protesting against the corruption in the government, which is to say that the next generation in Iran will remember how horrible and ridiculous this notion of a "theocractic republic" is. The youth have the capacity to change things in Iran, and I believe that they can do so if they keep up this open rebellion.
Secondly is the desire for real democracy. Now, democracy isn't always a good thing, but in this case, it's at least preferable to a Supreme Religious Prophet running things. The whole Middle East is as stable as an epileptic at a rave, but if the Iranians can do away with the extremely strict cultural norms, relax their anti-Semitism, ease in a more democratic and involved system of a government, than perhaps it'll be the first state in the region to chill the hell out. As far as Iraq is concerned, there are less attacks every day, less soldiers dying; it's a lot more stable. And if they can maintain it, perhaps set an example, then maybe Syria, Jordan, hell even Palestine, can follow suit. Israel could finally take off its body armor before going to bed.
But it all hinges on the countries stabilizing themselves. Foreign intervention will simply exacerbate matters and further alienate the Arab world. Give peace a chance, you fucking war-mongering assholes.
PS. Now all we have to do is exterminate the religious right in America and all will be well.
Thursday, June 18, 2009
The best of both worlds
Well, let me tell you about the fantastic day I had! Golly, it was a hum-dinger. I woke up at around 9:30, but decided an hour of sleep would do wonders for my health. After all, there's nothing quite like getting enough rest to go about the rest of your day with! I had some cereal too, but it appears someone put the bag inside the box upside down, and then tore open the bottom of the box, so cereal went everywhere! Oh brother, but I had it all swept up in a manner of minutes! I finished the milk too. It tasted really fresh!
The day I had today was comparable to being crucified with blunt nails shaped like dongs. I'm telling you all about it if only to vent and tell you uninterested masses about my unfulfilled and putrid existence. Why do I wake up at 9:30 when the only benefits it affords me is allowing me more time to stew in my misery? I'm going back to bed, to hell with being healthy. I'd prefer to stay unconscious, where I'm not tortured by my overactive imagination and idiotic proclivities of the hooting teenagers driving down my street. But I better have some breakfast, which has been delayed by some fucking moron sabotaging the box of cereal I was planning to stuff down my craw. Now it's all over the kitchen floor and I have to sweep it up before a swarm of ants consumes it and subsequently the rest of my house. And what do you know, I just had the last of the milk and now I want to die.
Oh, how I love to exercise! I managed to finally break my record today. I wanted to see how many crunches I could complete in three minutes, and I pulled off 300! The new ten-pound barbells I picked up the other day burned up my arms something awful, but it's part of the bodybuilding process! It's a bit hot today, making exercise a lot tougher, but it'll all be worth it in the end!
Funny how managing a super-human feat like 300 crunches makes me feel just as vapid and empty as I have for the past few days. The new weights feel like several needles full of asp venom delivered straight into my major veins. If this is how people get muscles, then I am committed to eating McDonald's for the rest of my life and limiting any physical activity to strictly masturbation. And Jesus fucking Christ, it's like a Mumbai slum up in this bitch for how hot it is. If I wanted to die slowly of heat stroke, I would do jumping jacks in the Sahara.
I had a delicious meal today! Lean turkey meat on toast, with some protein bars and shakes to mix it up. I made myself a little fruit platter too, with grapes, strawberries, blueberries etc to add a bit of flavor. Golly, it was delicious. I could eat this stuff for the rest of my life, I tell you.
This fucking toaster oven is fucking broken. Why is it incapable of doing the simple task of toasting my bread? Why must I continue to reset it after every ten seconds? This turkey is drier than Hilary Clinton's vagina after a trip to the Dead Sea. Why the fuck is all this fruit rotted and soft? It's like eating a pimple or a corpse's flesh! If I ever eat this stuff again, it'll be too soon.
I finally finished The Sun Also Rises by Ernest Hemmingway. What an excellent book! I especially enjoyed the strong characterization of the cast, and the intriguing setting of Pamplona, Spain. The author sure loves his vivid descriptions. I do too; it makes me feel as though I'm there, running with the bulls!
Killed a nugget of time finishing up Hemmingway's first novel. Pretty exceptional work, and I especially dug all the drinking, brawling, and sex that comes with the fiesta. Of course, Hemmingway has to kill myse buzz by portraying it as vacuous and unsatisfying, so I guess it all cancels out. But it was still a fantastic read which brightened up my day a smidge. Which is right there with giving a burn victim a bandage and claiming that's about as good as it's going to get.
Time for a shower, and then I'm going to watch American Psycho! The book was one of the best pieces of contemporary literature I've ever read, so let's hope the adaptation can capture what's so special about it.
Time to stew in my filth, and then I'm going to try to add meaning to my life by watching an inevitably poor translation of one of my favorite novels. No doubt the film will tarnish whatever fond and psychotic memories I have of Ellis' fine satirical work.
PS. Hooray, I'm graduating tomorrow from an institution that prides itself on a different style of education but attempts to poorly emulate the normal going-ons at other schools. Here's to sitting in the blistering heat listening to a guest speaker blither on for forty minutes about nothing in particular.
The day I had today was comparable to being crucified with blunt nails shaped like dongs. I'm telling you all about it if only to vent and tell you uninterested masses about my unfulfilled and putrid existence. Why do I wake up at 9:30 when the only benefits it affords me is allowing me more time to stew in my misery? I'm going back to bed, to hell with being healthy. I'd prefer to stay unconscious, where I'm not tortured by my overactive imagination and idiotic proclivities of the hooting teenagers driving down my street. But I better have some breakfast, which has been delayed by some fucking moron sabotaging the box of cereal I was planning to stuff down my craw. Now it's all over the kitchen floor and I have to sweep it up before a swarm of ants consumes it and subsequently the rest of my house. And what do you know, I just had the last of the milk and now I want to die.
Oh, how I love to exercise! I managed to finally break my record today. I wanted to see how many crunches I could complete in three minutes, and I pulled off 300! The new ten-pound barbells I picked up the other day burned up my arms something awful, but it's part of the bodybuilding process! It's a bit hot today, making exercise a lot tougher, but it'll all be worth it in the end!
Funny how managing a super-human feat like 300 crunches makes me feel just as vapid and empty as I have for the past few days. The new weights feel like several needles full of asp venom delivered straight into my major veins. If this is how people get muscles, then I am committed to eating McDonald's for the rest of my life and limiting any physical activity to strictly masturbation. And Jesus fucking Christ, it's like a Mumbai slum up in this bitch for how hot it is. If I wanted to die slowly of heat stroke, I would do jumping jacks in the Sahara.
I had a delicious meal today! Lean turkey meat on toast, with some protein bars and shakes to mix it up. I made myself a little fruit platter too, with grapes, strawberries, blueberries etc to add a bit of flavor. Golly, it was delicious. I could eat this stuff for the rest of my life, I tell you.
This fucking toaster oven is fucking broken. Why is it incapable of doing the simple task of toasting my bread? Why must I continue to reset it after every ten seconds? This turkey is drier than Hilary Clinton's vagina after a trip to the Dead Sea. Why the fuck is all this fruit rotted and soft? It's like eating a pimple or a corpse's flesh! If I ever eat this stuff again, it'll be too soon.
I finally finished The Sun Also Rises by Ernest Hemmingway. What an excellent book! I especially enjoyed the strong characterization of the cast, and the intriguing setting of Pamplona, Spain. The author sure loves his vivid descriptions. I do too; it makes me feel as though I'm there, running with the bulls!
Killed a nugget of time finishing up Hemmingway's first novel. Pretty exceptional work, and I especially dug all the drinking, brawling, and sex that comes with the fiesta. Of course, Hemmingway has to kill myse buzz by portraying it as vacuous and unsatisfying, so I guess it all cancels out. But it was still a fantastic read which brightened up my day a smidge. Which is right there with giving a burn victim a bandage and claiming that's about as good as it's going to get.
Time for a shower, and then I'm going to watch American Psycho! The book was one of the best pieces of contemporary literature I've ever read, so let's hope the adaptation can capture what's so special about it.
Time to stew in my filth, and then I'm going to try to add meaning to my life by watching an inevitably poor translation of one of my favorite novels. No doubt the film will tarnish whatever fond and psychotic memories I have of Ellis' fine satirical work.
PS. Hooray, I'm graduating tomorrow from an institution that prides itself on a different style of education but attempts to poorly emulate the normal going-ons at other schools. Here's to sitting in the blistering heat listening to a guest speaker blither on for forty minutes about nothing in particular.
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