Holy Cow!
Chicago was pretty awesome. Their were a lot of homeless people, and my mother complained about them. I was thinking "It's a damn city. Of course there are homeless people." At least a lot of them tried to do something for money. One guy was opening doors for people at a Dunkin Donuts. We didn't give anyone any money. I would've, but I'm a cheap prick. The school was really, really cool, possibly more cool than NYU. I almost like Chicago better than New York, but I'm really not sure. They're different, and I can see myself in both of 'em. But distance.... I know I've said I do not want to go to school in NJ, and I don't really want to see Emerson again, and that's all true, but I will want to come back and see the plays and shit like that, perhaps taunt Veit. That would be fun. The coolest thing about Chi-town was the Art Institute. That place was mad artistic...or not. They had all the Impressionists there. Van Gogh, Manet, Monet, Gauguin, and others. I saw Seurat's A Sunday Afternoonon the Island of La Grande Jatte, and all those other paintings in Ferris Bueller's Day Off. A must when in Chicago.
In old business, I Heart Huckabees was the man. I must see it again. It's a movie that makes you think, in the least cliched sense, and it got me the closest I've ever been to believing in something. What's strange is when I think about it, I think mostly of a very strange coincedence that happened right after. But first, some backstory, in two parts. Part One(1): To amuse myself when I have nothing to do in a crowd, I will pick someone out, someone who stands out, and memorize everyhing about them. Not everything, but what they're wearing, strange things about them, etc. Part Two(2): I Heart Huckabees starts off where Jason Schwartzman's character goes to a pair of existential detectives to solve a coincedence for him, wherein he has seen the same man, who he had never met before, in three completely different places. Well, anyway, after the flick, I was in Palisades with my mother so we go to this smoothie stand she always goes to after we se movies at Palisades, where I see this girl who I saw before when she took the SATs with me in Oct. This is the girl I memorized, who I first noticed because she was wearing Lisa Loeb-type Granny glasses. Anyone wearing those is just asking to be noticed. She also had shoelaces in her hair, another good quality to qualify as standing out. And she was writing on her shoes. I know, it sounds quite stalkerish, but I do this all the time, and I haven't followed anyone yet. This was quite strange, espescially after coming out of a movie like Huckabees, and probably doesn't seem as strange to all of you. But what I keep mulling over is that that day, I asked my mother if she was gonna go get a smoothie, o if I hadn't have said anything, she might not have gone. That brings me back to the main teme in I Heart Huckabees, which is that verything Is The Same, Even When It's Different. Everything is connected in the fabric of time and space. We are all made of the same things, all woven of the same material. And time is only an illusion made up by man so that everything wouldn't seem like it's happening all at once. What I'm saying is, did I say that because I somehow knew that that girl was there and I wanted to see her, or am I analyzing everything way too much? I don't know. There is no way of knowing. But things like that can make the case for existentialism, which says that everything is connected. It's sort of like destiny, but that doesn't have an -ism next to it so it can't be a religion.
Boy, am I tired.
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M. "Awesome" at 11:12 PM
Nothing Lasts Forever.
"Wow," I say as I sit here reading what I just wrote. That was quite more cathartic than I had originally thought. And I am substantially more preoccupied with love than I had thought. Oh, well. The whole idea of a blog is to wear your heart on your sleeve, so here it is, in all its vulnerable glory.
Depression comes in waves; every one can kind of guess that. I've been experiencing a very-low-frequency depression wave. "What's depressing, Mike?" I hear you ask. Well, for starters, I'm hearing things. The accident. Work. The fact that I have no money despite working for over a month. There are littler things, too. Well, they might seem little to you, but they've ballooned up in my mind. The fact that I still haven't seen I Heart Huckabees and that my mother won't take me into the city to see it. That fucking pisses me off. School has been crap lately and I wish I didn't have to think about it. I really need a day of, to sleep and get my head clear. "Could there be a hint of sexual frustration there, Mike?" I hear you asking. Jesus, leave me the fuck alone, will you? Well, you're probably right, anyhow. The other night I spent at least ten minutes discussing with Tarek "missed opportunities" we've had with women. To all the ladies (more likely, lady) reading this, these aren't real missed opportunities, mind you, but to men, anything where a girl we don't know smiles at us and we don't fuck her, that's a missed opportunity. Tarek had a million of 'em, as did I. Think about this. I was talking about this with TAREK. I've hit the lowest of the low. But it did make me think on two counts. One, about how much of a sad bastard I am, and two, why. I have always been as shy as they come, and this has been a real hinderance socially. I could never even bring myself to ask a girl to dance until I won't even say, except to say that it was quite recent, and even that was a struggle. You've probably read my diatribes on romantic movies. Mr. Romance movies who never even had a girlfriend. It's not even about sex. Other people I knw are so preoccupied with sex (or perhaps I've just seen too many teen sex comedies) but I really could care less about sex. Somewhere along the line I transcended from being preoccupied with sex like everyone else to wanting to find a soulmate, without even touching upon sex. Or not a soulmate. I don't know if I believe in soulmates, but you know. I always thought that the goal of dating was to find the right person, not see how many you can get in one go. To me sex is secondary, or even tertiary. By the way, that was the first time I ever used tertiary in a sentence of my own free will. Cool, huh? I know that I keep going on about them, and watching them to fill a void in my life, and to all of you, I'm sure that was obvious already. I've always envisioned when I fall in love to be sort of like Say Anything..., where I'm Lloyd Dobler, and whoever is Diane Court, only we'd be more like Annie Hall and Ducky from Pretty in Pink. I've always terribly identified with Ducky, and I know that's really strange thing to say, I know, even stranger than to say I've actually seen Pretty in Pink. "Are you saying all this because you are in love, Mike?" I hear you asking. You know what? I probably am. Or not. Why would I tell you?
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M. "Awesome" at 11:20 PM
Look At That Giant Tit!
Life has been shit lately so there's been a lack of posts.
The main reason life is still shit is because I Heart Huckabees is still only playing in the city. WHYYY?!?!?! KAHHHNNNNN!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
Today I was driving Chippy (a.k.a. Zach Pizza, for anyone who don't know, and if you don't know...that's just wrong)home and we were leaving the school while the tennis team was having practice or a game or something. I'm exiting the lot when Chippy says (in stuffed-up nasal voice) "One of the girls on the tennis team just lifted up her skirt a little bit and scratched her leg." I could not muster up a response for quite some time. I finally said "Was this...erotic? In any way?"
"Partially."
"Chippy, you are a perv."
He is. Why would he tell me that? That is not interesting. Perhaps if I were to have seen it I would have thought 'Hmmm...interesting.' but no, probably not. Chippy is a perv and he beats Borer in the perv contest. This does not, however, beat the all-time best Chippy quote: "Oh. These have chocolate in them." I won't explain it now; the story doesn't work on print.
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M. "Awesome" at 10:49 PM
