stolen from the blog of a beloved friend:
25 June 2005: intermission
c--pher, tonight: "so how does jarvis cocker come off?"
i proudly let it be known that this interrogative was directed at me.
in case you're curious, the answer is "crazy."
amazing what putting on a little eyeliner and hearing travis cover a george harrison (ok, technically the beatles) song can do for a shitty day.
nevermind this headache in the right half of my skull - when i get home, i am totally gonna get involved in some international relations! (wink, wink)
my 10 year high school reunion... my graduating class was a mere 80
people in 1995. reunited we were maybe 25 or 30. plus spouses.
i made ilya go.
i was asked if he was german.
a couple of times.
i was asked when i was gonna pop out a baby. i said when i am mature enough to support myself.
if i thought then that the people surrounding me didn't quite get me, well... a decade apart has certainly not made that any different. but i should also say that that road goes both ways... i don't quite understand either.
the biggest thing i noticed was something that ilya pointed out. he kept asking, "are these people all our age?"
"yeah - of course..."
"they all look so much older than you."
and maybe he was right. he was spot on that everyone had aged more than i had anticipated... but i wasn't altogether sure that i wasn't right there with them and just hadn't noticed my slow progression over the years.
then looking back during the replay of our slideshow, i realized that maybe he was right. i am a little smaller with a lot less hair (by choice), but overall look like heidi.
if that's what having children does, i might have to do some re-evaluation.
all in all i was a little disappointed. the people i truly would have been happy to see were not there. and amongst those that were there was nothing unexpected or shocking or dramatic. it really just kind of made me sad.
i secretly hoped that everything i say when poking fun of d-ville would be proven an extreme exaggeration. sadly, i must report that a majority of my jabs are based in fact.
alas. i see no need to attend the next one. hopefully i will be in toronto by then anyway...
it's hard to explain.
an overwhelming sense of heartsickness just hit me like a ton of bricks. i am at work; we have a night show and i was left to be the responsible one. i often take these opportunities to crank netscape radio's britpop station in the office and zone out.
i can't tell you what song it was, but i can tell you where i was the last time i heard it. gene maybe?one of those bands so uniquely british that you'd only ever hear them on a britpop station or in britain. more specifically blaring from the morning tv program playing in the basement of a london youth hostel whilst you're having your last meal in a country that is not your own, but feels like it should be.... maybe it was supposed to be, but something went awry... that feeling that you don't care that your wallet got stolen in some other part of the world and you're alone and penniless in this country, you want to stay until you've completely conquered it.
and when the song is over, you reluctantly grab your bags and make your way as slowly as possible to Victoria Station, just praying that maybe you'll miss that train.
and if you don't, there's something awfully nice waiting for you back home.
i heart the united kingdom.
30 screenings (one non-festival-related) with a total of 38 films in nine days. my brain is mush.
the atlanta film festival was incredible and worth every penny i spent.... and that was a lot of them.
highlight: during a screening of "stephen tobolowsky's birthday party" there was a minor technical difficulty that left the scrren blank and the theatre silent (aside from the subtle murmurs of what's up with the film?)... forgetting he had joined us in the audience i was caught pleasantly off-guard to hear mr. tobolowsky himself (http://www.imdb.com/name/nm0864997/) say, "if it doesn't come back on, i'll be happy to finish the story..."
track 9 on the njg dance mix
i call them "paranoid android" moments because the first time it ever happened... well, that was what was playing and the name, seeming rather appropriate, simply stuck.
driving to work one morning from my place on mclendon, as i am sure you've already guessed with ok computer in the cd player, i was harried and fuzzy and running super late and traffic was strangely dense on euclid on a weekday morning. did i mention i was also really late? for work? keeping in mind my incredible impatience as a driver, you can imagine my whizzing around people trying to parallel park, make left turns, what have you... once i reached austin avenue and its many splendored speed-breakers i noticed it. the song was soundtracking my every moment.
listen to paranoid android and it's like one of those crazy queen songs that change tempo so many times it might as well be a medley. the angry "you don't remember my name" verse padded along perfectly to my frenzied jerks around paused vehicles, etc as i rushed along euclid running both red lights i am certain; and just as that first bump came into sight and i gradually pressed on te breaks, the song faded into that pretty "aaaaahhhhh aaaahhhh" section that reminds me of floating. last speed bump coinciding with bass drum and angry johnny guitar part beginning as soon as i was under the last stop light and racing toward the interstate.
it was so bizarre i called justin as soon as i got to work, insisting no it was way cooler than that volkswagen commercial.
i bring this up, not only because it occurred again recently - it's occurred numerous times, each one prompting me to recount this story to whoever in earshot would listen - but because this last one was really lovely. there's truly no better word for it.
leaving mine and meg's apartment tuesday night, headed back to mine and ilya's new place, i was listening to the mix cd i made as a birthday present for justin (and still have failed to deliver to him....hmmm). as much as i know he will scoff at me for it, i included "a movie script ending" by death cab. just at the end of the block were two people locked in a lighthearted embrace, one lifting the other off her feet and twirling her about and then both tumbling to the concrete without harm where they were still frolicking around as i roled through the stop sign.
it totally made my heart flutter.
try to convince a russian - more appropriately mine - that there's such a thing has this:
sleeping too much makes you groggy and more tired.
i dare you to try. for weeks now, since we have officially shared a residence to pinpoint a start point, i have been retiring with my sweetheart well before 11pm. in my "single days" this thought would have been not only unheard of but, in fact, entirely ludicrous. nevertheless, with the argument that i am increasingly too damned difficult to get out of bed each morning, it has been insisted to me that it is both viable and necessary.
the situation has worsened over the past few days... that "increasingly too damned diificult" leaning toward impossible. one might call me lacking in self-discipline. one might even venture "lazy."
i however seem to see a slight though it may be pattern of earlier to bed later to rise. i think my body just can't cope with that much downtime and it is sufficiently freaking out.
i am simply getting too much sleep at night.
but no one - or at least no one that i live with - seems to believe me.
http://www.flickr.com/photos/86749056@N00/16636760/in/set-397628/
yum
