I went to college and all I got was this stupid t-shirt
Sometimes coming up with a to-do list can do more harm than good, especially when it induces a panic attack. I like them when they're short enough to fit on a Post-It note and the most pressing matter is "buy batteries." I don't like them when they total in the low twenties and include "start researching your 20-page term paper on the expression of emotion in Balinese society, you procrastinating dipshit." When did my to-do lists get so hostile? I don't take no guff from no notes left by no alter egos.
In order to give the mood pendulum a good push in the other direction I decided to settle into some familiar sentimental territory by buying a bunch of movies on Amazon that I've been meaning to for years now. Red-blooded American that I am, there were dozens that I wanted to buy, but after my expensive trip I decided to limit myself to $50. On that budget I managed the following:
. Magnolia
. The Crow
. Gattaca
. Mulholland Drive
. Heathers
In other news, I have a date (!) on Saturday in New York (!) that I'm getting pretty psyched about. We're going to this place that salle-de-bains recommended called Sea (1, 2, 3) in Brooklyn for dinner. After that I really have no idea (suggestions anyone?). We talked about maybe UCB Theatre but I'm thinking something more along the lines of live music. I guess we'll figure something out. Ha! I'm such a useless guide.
If I when my wife is sleeping
and the baby and Kathleen
are sleeping
and the sun is a flame-white disc
in silken mists
above shining trees,--
if I in my north room
dance naked, grotesquely
before my mirror
waving my shirt round my head
and singing softly to myself:
"I am lonely, lonely.
I was born to be lonely,
I am best so!"
If I admire my arms, my face,
my shoulders, flanks, buttocks
again the yellow drawn shades,--
Who shall say I am not
the happy genius of my household?