Wednesday, November 16, 2005


4, 5? 7? 8? I lost count after getting nauseous for the umpteenth time on experimental film. The entire class was dedicated to torturing my psyche. Flickering colours, superimposed images mixed with industrial, phallic symbolism. I thought an eye surgery montage was a hurricane. "Destroy, destroy, destroy," echoed the soundtrack verbatim. Wheezing wind, squeaky windshield wipers, tears in the time/space continuum. My head nodded from forty winks, the repetition was too artsy for me. Maybe that's why my high school field trip to the Guggenheim Museum was so unmemorable: non-narrative projections scattered the walls, hung in dark rooms, pointless to the masses. (The place looked more promising when it was used as the backdrop to Carrie Bradshaw's flasheratti moment. Oh, Sex and the City, you always make me feel less like a tumbleweed and more like a jellybean.)

Thus, never make a career out of a hobby. School has at once reinvigorated and ruined my interests, yinging and yanging my intrinsic desires until they've become mundane annoyances.


Went and saw Deepa Mehta's Water. A gorgeous film set during Gandhi's rise to fame. I don't know what's happened to me, but since moving to Montreal and being exposed to a wider range of movies, I can't stop freakin' crying. I mean, this is me I'm talking about: the chick who laughed at the girls who boo-hooed their way through Titantic as my best friend at the time threw marshmallow-filled sweets at them and snickered at the shape of Rose's boobs. Now, it's like every subtle gesture corresponds to some familial resemblance. Suddenly, shoeless hobos and blind urchins remind me of my parents' struggle in the New World. Defenceless babies no longer fill me with Darwinian dedication, but a tragic desire to shield them from that tank/horse/pimp/fork. These directors are jerking my emotions, damnit! Jerking me around like a maternally-programmed plaything!


I want to start my own newspaper. Indeed, that shall be my 10-year plan. Now if only I could find me some people willing to work for free for the first ... 8 or 9 years, that would be sweet. I guess that would mean the content for the first decade would be exclusively focused on hemp products, hairy foreign women, and jigsaw puzzles. "Don't forget the numerous uses for beeswax!" God willing, I doubt that's possible.

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