I watched the Oscars tonight with two friends who came over and prior to that I cleaned my apartment, ridded the place of the remaining wine bottles and food cartons that had filled it in the past four days. And I made jokes on the internet and found the whole thing silly and I guess that’s, I don’t know, the first part of getting over something very sad that’s happened. I felt ready to be a real person again, to not stay disappeared in a haze of smoke and drink and old huddled-close friends. But it still felt kind of weird. Knowing she and I would have texted about tonight’s show, would have emailed about my upcoming trip to LA and the plans we’d made to see each other (tickets bought and all), would have joked about her upcoming credit, somewhere deep down there but still there, in The Dark Knight Rises. It’s very late and I need to remember how to go to bed early again, and really this has nothing to do with me — the funeral on Friday will be so much about her parents and family and boyfriend and just a little about us, her friends — but I do still hate that I feel selfish for feeling sad, for doubting my own emotion, for wondering if maybe this is just all an excuse to quit blogging (which I increasingly hate) and run away into a new, who-knows sort of life. I wish I could just plainly own this aching feeling, this pain in my bones, and call it what it is. I miss my friend and will miss her likely forever. Not always so strongly, I know. Not always so physically, sure. But a new hole has been bored in me somewhere and that’s just one of the nicks and dents of being alive, I guess.
It was strange to try to have fun again tonight. I don’t think I failed, necessarily. But I’m not sure how to gauge succeeding, either.
Remember on The Sopranos when Tony gets shot and is in the coma and has that dream or vision of an alternate life or whatever it is where he’s still Tony but he’s normal and boring and is just a shlubby, affable businessman? I’m on the Amtrak right now sitting next to John McCain’s version of that.
Just saw ‘Chronicle’ and it is actually pretty good. No, not the Boston-area TV news magazine (Mary Richardson!), the teenagers with superpowers movie. I liked it! Movie review! (Actual movie review next Friday.)
Without revealing my own feelings for the movie (I loved it, really honestly loved it), I find it weird that people criticize War Horse for pandering and schmaltziness while celebrating with ardent fervor the pieced-together, insightless, complete cop-out that was Melancholia. They’re the same movie, philosophy-towards-moviemaking-wise! Only War Horse is earnest about its conclusions while Melancholia makes none and insists you find that revolutionary. (“The depressive was right all along.” - Melancholia. Feh.) ANYWAY. Who cares. Movies. Extremely Loud sucks. Nobody’s seen it, but it sucks.
Watching the new Gawker people audition is fun in a “It’s fun to see how Choire Sicha’s former TAs have taught their students and then those students tutored some high school kids who then went to college and now have graduated and are now their own people and they say ‘Oh yeah, I’m aware of Choire’ and then everyone’s like, sigh, everybody’s old now, good luck everyone, cheers” kind of way.
“While it’s easy to forgive the less-than-stellar chops of many an action star, female or male, Haywire is hobbled by Carano’s inadequacy. There’s no cushioning for it, because Gina Carano (or rather her character, Mallory Kane) lives in Soderberghland, where everything looks really cool but is also brittle and inert, frustratingly removed. At times Haywire feels like we’re watching a rehearsal, a reasonably well-done rehearsal for sure, but a rehearsal nonetheless.”—I kind of didn’t like Haywire.
To whomever threw an egg at my window last night: I spent forty-five minutes scraping yolk off my windowsill today and another forty-five washing all the glass, all while trying to convince myself that it wasn’t some deliberate thing because my neighbors don’t like me or that it wasn’t a GAY HATE CRIME. So I’d just like to thank you for making me feel sorry for myself for a few hours today, sad and persecuted and all alone in my egg-covered apartment, chipping and hacking away with a butter knife, wondering if it all made me a total Carrie or maybe just that lady who fell out of the window in that one episode.
“Jack and Diane, two teenage girls, meet in New York City and spend the night kissing ferociously. Diane’s charming innocence quickly begins to open Jack’s tough skinned heart. But, when Jack discovers that Diane is leaving the country in a week she tries to push her away. Diane must struggle to keep their love alive while hiding the secret that her newly awakened sexual desire is giving her werewolf-like visions.”—Kylie Minogue is in this movie.
It’s 1996, and Josh and Emma have been neighbors their whole lives. They’ve been best friends almost as long - at least, up until last November, when Josh did something that changed everything. Things have been weird between them ever since, but when Josh’s family gets a free AOL CD in the mail,his mom makes him bring it over so that Emma can install it on her new computer. When they sign on, they’re automatically logged onto their Facebook pages. But Facebook hasn’t been invented yet. And they’re looking at themselves fifteen years in the future.
By refreshing their pages, they learn that making different decisions now will affect the outcome of their lives later. And as they grapple with the ups and downs of what their futures hold, they’re forced to confront what they’re doing right - and wrong - in the present.
The Future of Us. I am so sad that I A) did not write this book and B) am not reading it right now. (via Leila)