Today's Blog (working title)

So, my newest song of desire & inspiration: Bright Lights by Matchbox20.

Went to see David Lynch's Mulholland Drive. I want to know what that man does in his spare time. You can't help but imagine him sitting in a dark room, bleeding himself waiting for loopy inspiration. On the flipside, I'm also tempted to see him as an everyman who goes out into the sunshine-y green grass-iness of LA, walking a Golden Retriever all the while. I think somewhere more in the middle is probably accurate. However, of his adoring minions I have a less charitable view. Kind of like how people who love Marilyn Manson just can't be entirely normal (judgmental? yes!) because to purchase his music you mustn't allow yourself to believe it's a farce, that he's laughing all the way to the bank with his freakshow. I suppose my sensibilities in all kinds of music, but primarily towards the acoustic-singer-songwriter and bubble-gum-pop milieus, paint me with the generic brush, and I won't be so pompous as to disallow that.

Still, I wonder what you say when you meet someone like David Lynch. Do you pounce on him with questions that he'll undoubtedly not answer, or do you just avoid the topic of his films altogether so that you don't look like an ass when you give a look or make a statement that makes it apparent you're confused just like the rest of us. Upon meetin him, I'm sure my instincts would go towards "What the fuck?!"

So, what else to say? Oh yeah, Bjorn Again was SOOOOO much fun! They played "Livin' on a Prayer," for goodness sake. And it was so beautifully cheesy, I can't even discuss. Perfect cap-off to my misspent semester. I'm playing with the idea of forming a transgendered tribute "band" to *NSync. I would, of course, be Lance.

Now I must go off and read Clare Boothe Luce's The Women, which for some reason has no criticism on it. What's that about? Guess I should have taken the hint when the UEA library only had one copy of it in a random "Great Plays of 1937" anthology. Oh well, I'll send Michael G. Robinson the smackdown with all my wit and brilliance about Top Girls, and then just use it as a bouncing board on which to posit my commentary on The Women. God, I sound pretentious: "posit my commentary"?!

In the word of Powers, "Owt".

London countdown: 4 days!
Shoes without holes in them countdown: 3 days!