Oh, and "Inception."

I just saw Inception. Tell ya the truth, it stank. Everyone loved it, so don't take it from me though. I saw it with R--- and Katia and they loved it. I was sitting there like omg i REALLY wish i brought a xanax. OMG, its already 9 30 and they just introduced 71294750 new plot devices. KILL ME.

It was one of these dark, eerie, solitary, existentialist Chris Nolan mindfucks where like, we don't know what's real and what's a memory, dream, or reflection, and what's it matter ANYWAY??? Perhaps because I am daily struggling with those issues, I expect a little more from their treatment onscreen..... but.... COME ON, MAN.

Okay, here's what it's about. A mon avis.:

The dangers of escapism in the digital age, globalization, the dissolution of the nuclear family, that is truly what it is about, it's downright xenophobic. But, the actual plot is.. too convoluted to really say, i mean, its got some really neat little ideas, a whole bunch of manipulative classical film score music, lots of strings, very loud, scores scores, (that Hans just Zimmers away, don't he? I actually caught myself covering my ears autistically at one point but I mean the whoooole thing is cloyingly, demandingly scored, “be afraid, be very afraid!” stringy, I think there were about 9.3 minutes total of shhh in the whole whopping 160 minute epic) and scores of special effects.

Pseudopsychology, dreams, lots of little tricks but being that its built upon that trickery of logic, the fact that a lot of it's unexplained and doesn't add up sucks, the plot is thin and the characters are pisspoor and all the same, with no sense of humor at all, and i realize this is probably intentional because of the twist at the end.... which is guess the fuck what?? It's like, what is the #1, Fiction 101, amateur-hour oopsie in writing?

Don't, for the love of it, DON'T have it end with, it was all a dream!..........

Seriously???

And it was just too long. Two and a half legcramped, ritalinstarved hours.

Like, I caught all the little "clues" along the way and groaned out loud. And when I watch these big blockbusters, like, I think, okay, a bunch of really smart moneyed people poured oh 8,9 billion dollars into this yeah? So I just go for the bottomline message. And this one was, it seriously was, like- Ya fuck around with technology and faaaake stuff and strangers and go globetrotting, your family's gonna SUFFER and someone's gonna DIE and you're gonna MISS 'EM and you can't come back and you'll be caught in limbo forever!!!!!!! Stay in Duh-merica and keep yer fly zipped and don't go thinkin' all crazy!!!

when harry met sally

i REALLY love that movie.

Hot, Hot Summer

It's so hot. Really it's not even hot, it's just the sun through my windows of my clean, clean apartment. In the horizon of the clear blue. Like a sneaky keyhole to hell.

It's so clean. The cleaning ladies came yesterday and they did a fantastic job. Word from the wise, to the wise, or others: Get a cleaning lady. A filthy apartment is a depressive agent, and one's own apartment is inscrutably difficult to clean... I personally find myself repeatedly and frequently distracted by every object with which I come in contact. Oh-- this old thing! Oh-- I should alphabetize these! Oh-- I haven't read this in months! Do I need this? And cetera. I wouldn't even know where to begin. And so easily remedied this problem. One of the best investments one could make. So. It's sparkling clean. It makes me feel better.

And I didn't even have to store Madeline anywhere... The women that came yesterday were cool and pretty and they did awesome. The ones I got the last time sucked. I'D done better. But yeah.

Sigh. I'm reading my favorite book again. Of course I forgot how good it was... It's over a grand pp long... I'm tired and...

School's almost over... I'm probably gonna do pretty well... It's COMMUNITY COLLEGE and I only took two classes so it's kinda like I better do well... But still, it was hard to manage, caused all this stress and... It's still an accomplishment... Just to get it done with... I kinda doubted I could, and they were valid concerns because it's quite possible I won't finish even these two classes and if I do it'll be by the skin of my teeth, so I'll be satisfied.

I have a cool gig. It's a movie. I'll be playing a stripper. Heh. Small thing, but... still... I know a lot of people wanna do this kind of stuff so it's hard to get these gigs.

I always think of the years starting and ending in June, because that's when school was over... So I'm looking back on this year like, What?

I don't know what to make of it.

I have nothing to say for myself. My coffee in the heat. Not steaming or cooling.

Ohhhh yea. Ohhhh yea. Uhhhh-huh.

I'm exhausted. I'm drained.

If I wrote this hours ago, if I wrote this entry this evening, when I got home, and not after midnight after being talked down from the clouds by Elena, back into the stratosphere, I'd sound different... In fact, I think I wouldn'tve been able to write at all...

I left Julian's office today shaking. Elated, scared, crying, I couldn't even listen to music or drive to school, but I didn't know what else to do, so I drove to school, and got lost even though Julian's office and school and my house are within 5 minutes of each other. And I kept calling Elena because I was losing it but she wasn't picking up. I got to counseling and they had some issues with registration for one of my classes and I started shaking again, near tears, like, "I can't... I can't do this... I can't... FIND THIS CRAP RIGHT NOW!" And then, I had to semi-break up with a guy-who-thinks- thought-he-is-was-my-boyfriend, and then Elena called while he was over, and I was like, "Hey Dan it's Elena I really have to talk to her!!!" and let him walk out without saying good-bye and he gave me the dirtiest look and he was totally gob-smacked crestfallen and I am SUCH an asshole and this is why.

I woke up really early and I couldn't get back to sleep and my phone was just inexplicably dead, like CONKED, so I just got up and went and bought it a new battery and a new vocal mic for my music and some other crap and a Starbucks and then I got home with still like a good 5 hours before Julian, 5 hours in an leaky hourglass.

I knew what I wanted to talk to him about, kinda, I had questions planned out, and ideas, like I always do, and I wanted to record something with the new mic but planning my outfit became an operatic event. And I wanted to walk to Julian's and then school to get my daily 5 miles in (I'm kind of obsessed with my legs... they're naturally kinda muscular and always were when I was dancing ballet but then I got kinda skinny until I started working at the club again and now I work it out and wear shorts or skirts whenever possible, especially to see certain men... even in the winter... over panty-hose, anyway!) but then Father Time started shaking his sceptre and I was like Ok, Ok, S-O, you're gonna drive it's fine. So I found some really high shorts and panty-hose, and boots, and a top that was both womanly European feminine sophisticated and still with a handsome dip of cleavage, and I got in my little beater and made my way over there, getting whistled at and propositioned, and driving like a maniac, weaving through lanes, beautiful parking karma, made it, made it, made it.

I got in the waiting room and flicked his little light thingy. No noise. Two minutes. Two minutes late. My heart sank and I panicked. I feel like he's been doing that a lot lately. He used to come out 30 seconds after I showed up. I looked at my phone... I found a magazine with a cover story about something I knew he probably read or wanted to read... And then I saw him strolling into his office from the hallway and he waved.

He was dressed a little more casual today, no blazer, he looked a little breathless.

"Sorry I'm late!"

"No, no!"

.....

"How's your kitty doing?" I made sure to ask, so he'd see that I'm not, under normal circumstances, 100% self-absorbed all the time.

"Making progress," his smile lit up the goddamn zip-code.

"Ahhh, are you treating him?" He'd made a joke about his cat having psychological issues... so we joked about that... and then my cat... And then I brought out my opener:

"So... my blow-off list is getting really long... Florida guy wants to-- wanted to come over, I mean-- he IS coming over, and like, I just... I downright can't stand the guy anymore. I mean he's an idiot. Like... How could I not have seen it? He's like, borderline-retarded. I'm just NOT."

"Hey why don't you tell me how you really feel." J jokes. He's made that joke before when I'm ranting about some kangaroo I've been seeing for the free goodies.

And I started to talk about why it was so hard for me to say no to the duderz, not sexually, but like, that no I wasn't interested romantically, even though I wasn't, and being with someone I don't really like makes me really uncomfortable actually, and he got me to admit that I kinda liked the option of having people to pay for stuff, and he said, Okay, fair enough, and I said that sounds awful, that's terrible, and he said (and he quoted verbatim from an e-mail I sent him once about this writer we both like who thinks it's human nature for men to pay for sex) "What happened to 'Thank you, PINKER!'?"

"I know! I don't know... I guess that one year of Sunday school did its thing... Societal norms..."

"Well," he said, and he's starting to give his opinion more and more now, "I think, Buddhistically, sorry, but that maybe it's not Right Practice."

"I know. It's not."

"Did this guy leave yet?"

"No- maybe- I don't know- I was just thinking the same thing-" I pulled out my phone, "Should I just? What do I say?"

And now comes the part where J dictates How to Blow a Guy Off Without Being a Total Asshole about it, as I text. When Dan would respond, I'd show it to J, like a little kid, and he'd advise. And Dan called frantically like 5 times while I was there, and, and...

And then I started talking about being lonely, and Elena not returning my calls, and all the fake conversations at the club and the fact that I don't talk to a soul "except her... and you..." and how all I do all week is listen, listen, smile and laugh and feign interest and "I'm sure you can relate" and then I started crying, which I never do in front of him, but I couldn't help it, and he just said, "I think you're just saying you have to pay a price for solitude..." and then we just looked at each other silently, well, stared, and my heart made its way up my trachea, and I couldn't look at him, and then I looked at him, and he was looking at my legs, and I realized I'd been running my hands up and down them for probably 20 minutes, and my face flushed and he looked back at me and I realized my lips were parted and I caught my breath and looked away and then at him and sort of smiled and then away and then up and down him and then at the floor and his blue eyes were burning through me and it was like probably a whole minute that felt like forever like glorious, glorious, blazing forever.

Then he asked me about the YouTube link he sent me. (Last week, off-hand, at the end of an e-mail about some insurance thing... got me going. Really got me going.)

And then we talked about movies. I told him he has to see Lars and the Real Girl. I found myself describing the whole plot to him and then stopping myself and then he described a whole movie to me, a depressing movie, and then he said, and on that happy note! And, as always,

"Last thoughts?" and then, "I actually had something terribly important to say but I lost it so I guess it will have to wait till next time." Which is what I said a couple sessions back. ("Last thoughts?" "Yeah but... they're not like two-minute thoughts so, no...") And he got up and then he slowly turned back and said, "Well actually I was late so, we have two more minutes."

"Oh. Yes. I need my two minutes."

He sat back down and my phone buzzed again. "Florida guy?"

"Not during my two minutes!" I smacked the phone.

We looked at each other again.

"It's really beautiful outside today." I said.

"It is, I like this kind of weather."

"I get to wear shorts-"

"I've been meaning to say this, since we need to tell each other these things," Julian is saying and time again stood still because before I had time to fucking melt or scream or jump on him-- "Your makeup has run completely afoul."

My hands flew up to my face and I'm sure I was bright, neon, stop-light, fire-truck, sex-doll-mouth, First Aid cross, Coke can fucking RED, stained black (and white all over), "Oh! Oh, wow, yeah-"

"I didn't want you to leave without being aware of that."

FUCK.

And is he FUCKING with me??? Ugh, I'm a wreck. Wreck. He's fucking with me. He's like, really good, and I can't keep up with the innuendos, though I don't let it show too much, but, he's a goddamn psychologist, I'm sure it's obvious, but I like this game. I am game. He rifled through his planner.

"So we're on for Thursday at... noon?"

"Four."

"Four..." He stood up.

"Uh-huh." I stood up.

He stepped over to the door, and I stepped over to the door, and we said "Bye," in unison.

I must have sex with him. Like. Right now. Thursday. UGH. Oh god. And a bunch more shit happened today, but... it doesn't matter. It doesn't matter at all.