I just want onto the IMDB page for The Man Who Wasn’t There (the incredible film I’m writing my essay about) and it turns out Tom Waldrat copied the first half of one of his questions verbatim from the IMDB page.
What a charlatan.
I hate people who don’t even bother to come up with their own ideas.
On a less scornful note, this film parallels Camus’ novel The Stranger impeccably, so this essay is going to be easy as pie. On a tenuously related note, I simply need to buy The Myth of Sisyphus. I haven’t been reading for months and it makes me very ancy. I suddenly have nothing to talk about.
I cleaned the bathroom (killing twelve million brain cells from the ammonia), and I’m just starting on my cinema essay. I had to post the two errors on the final paper handout Waldrat gave us. The first one is my personal favorite:
“The Man Who Wasn’t There is a truly bazaar film.” Really? It sells us things in an open-air market? Because I totally missed that!
“I want you to really reap the film apart!” Hmm, I didn’t know that intellectual discourse involved separating wheat from chaff.
I want to thank you personally, Tom Waldrat, for yet another mind-numbing installment of “Spell Check Doesn’t Work if You’re an Idiot.”
To distance myself from reality, I spent the night loading all the new iPod ads onto my iPod (actually, that only took like twenty minutes, my mom talked my ear off for a few hours.
You should watch the new ad, it’s all psychadelic and I can’t get that song out of my head.
I’m really stressed out with finals week next week and all these damn papers due. Fuck. I need to do something productive, but I’m just so overwhelmed…I have learned helplessness. That’s what I’ve gleaned from my psych class. Everything I do, my dad yells at me for, so I subconsiously figure that I might as well do nothing and get yelled at anyway.
Tonight I need to clean my bathroom and get started on that cinema essay. Tomorrow is going to suck. Bio in the morning, have to beg for a ride to wherever we’re going…ick.
And I will be all exhausted and stranded in town because my dad is riding his horse some random place. Hella gay. I need to stop procrastinating and do some damn work. I don’t want to clean my bathroom. My dad is kicking me out in like two weeks. Why the fuck should I bother?
Because he bought the parts to fix my car. Damn…
Ooh, I just thought of an engraving for my next iPod:
There is only me.
www.retroviral.net
My current engraving says:
Darius Capulet
(my email address)
“Sperm banks are just not my style.”
–My Mom
That contained my new headlight and fender! Woot!
