(no subject)
i dont know if im the only one that senses little currents moving under the skin of society, or if im just insane, but it seems like there are little unspoken orgasmic swells of interest every so often within the groups of people around me. not a day goes by without me hearing about existentialism, and theres more of a focus on livejournal, or so ive noticed; hence the entry. not that i play into all the cool fads (like lj) or anything... in fact im quite the individual. indie indie indie
i saw the grudge the other day, and while it wasnt scary per se, or even a good movie, when i was trying to sleep last night i kept thinking of one scene where someone somehow materializes under the sheets at the foot of someones bed and kinda shimmies up their stomach. i used to cope with nightmares and the aftermath of horror films by imagining myself doing something really braindead and ridiculous and superimposed on the movie screen. like would the ring really have panned out like it did if the blonde woman had sat in the cabin after watching the tape, slapping a beat out on her stomach and cackling at her own charm? i doubt samara wouldve bothered. she wouldve been just plain disgusted, and everybody knows if you dont play the role, youre out of the movie. but that was my more adolescent approach. ive since adopted a more cosmopolitan outlook: i just tell myself, christ, of all things youre worried about a cancerous-looking asian boy making cat noises at you? we're not even in japan. you should be worried about something legit and plausible like god's wrath or lung cancer.
so i spent the rest of the night listening for satan in my attic and for glitches in my labored breathing. i dont know if i feel more mature for the change.
i saw the grudge the other day, and while it wasnt scary per se, or even a good movie, when i was trying to sleep last night i kept thinking of one scene where someone somehow materializes under the sheets at the foot of someones bed and kinda shimmies up their stomach. i used to cope with nightmares and the aftermath of horror films by imagining myself doing something really braindead and ridiculous and superimposed on the movie screen. like would the ring really have panned out like it did if the blonde woman had sat in the cabin after watching the tape, slapping a beat out on her stomach and cackling at her own charm? i doubt samara wouldve bothered. she wouldve been just plain disgusted, and everybody knows if you dont play the role, youre out of the movie. but that was my more adolescent approach. ive since adopted a more cosmopolitan outlook: i just tell myself, christ, of all things youre worried about a cancerous-looking asian boy making cat noises at you? we're not even in japan. you should be worried about something legit and plausible like god's wrath or lung cancer.
so i spent the rest of the night listening for satan in my attic and for glitches in my labored breathing. i dont know if i feel more mature for the change.