I wish I had twitter so I could throw out my stream of consciousness opinions about the new Woody Allen movie.
In bullet form:
- Well that was bleak.
- Someone walked ON ME on my way out to get popcorn during the previews. They stepped on my foot and slammed into my body.
- I like how class is suddenly not-invisible to Woody Allen when it’s the Upper East Side and not the Upper West.
- I mean I know they’re richer than the supposed therapist and movie producers in his other films but it would be nice to interrogate (sorry) class in a closer way, outside of caricature.
- It was gooood, but not like, Woody Allen good (to me).
- I guess the caricatures were caricatures of things I don’t care about.
- It’s not really funny or interesting or new or relevatory?
- I know it’s supposed to be some kind of modern retelling of a Streetcar Named Desire but what did it add, really?
- Why do people make us watch so many movies about rich people? Ugh, who cares.
- What was this, like a Wes Anderson movie without the matchy-matchy?
- Cate Blanchett is great to watch sure. But do rich people really talk like that these days? Like fucking Katherine Hepburn? Come on.
- The bouncing back and forth in time is not structurally interesting. There was not much dramatic tension, or enough to justify.
- I want to SEE when the Poor Sister loses the money — show me that scene. Actually, make a movie about that. I don’t give a shit about this Jasmine lady.
- Even though yeah her face without makeup is super harrowing, thanks Woody.
- And I mean yeah I kinda liked it.
- I came home and puked last night. Probably unrelated.
11:02 am • 28 July 2013 • 28 notes
Today started with Dustin awake earlier than usual. Six, he says. He decided he would squeeze-spoon me even though I was asleep, because he is evil. In doing so he woke me up just enough so that I could feel that my arm, too, was asleep — numb — and having him squeeze me was incredibly disturbing and…untenable. I tried to yell “Stop, stop, my arm is asleep!” but what came out, he says, was, “Steep! Steep, steeeeeep.” When I woke up for real a few hours later he skipped over to the bed and asked me if I remembered what I dreamed about, figuring I would say I was climbing a mountain.
No you sonuvabitch you squeezed my dead arm at six in the morning
7:37 pm • 25 July 2013 • 37 notes
people in this coffee shop who need to go kill themselves immediately
- the person next to me who just watched a video out loud (?!?!!!!!!!)
- the man across the way who just said, with complete sincerity, “Travel, to me, is a lifestyle. It’s a way of living.”
- the girl who sat there for a long time explaining to her boyfriend the etymology of her “pet name for everyone she really hearts.” The pet name is “turtle,” derived from “turd,” a name she and one of her friends called each other as a joke. The boyfriend says he really “loves” (sarcasm) the fact that he shares a pet name with the turd guy.
12:06 pm • 24 July 2013 • 56 notes
This week we learned the verb avoir, to have. We also learned the words for family members — mom, dad, sister, etc.
I was paired up with this older (60s-ish?) woman, and we had to go back and forth down the list and say whether we had different relationships — a son, a daughter, a husband, a father-in-law, kids, grandparents.
I guess you can see where this is going.
I don’t have parents. I don’t have grandparents. I don’t have a father. I don’t have a mother. I don’t have a son. I don’t have a daughter. I don’t have a husband. I don’t have a boyfriend. I don’t have a girlfriend (she laughed at this one a lot).
Luckily she had a sister and a brother and some cousins (but no tantes or oncles!). I found myself wanting to lie and say I didn’t have a mother either, to make her feel better. And if I could have broken up with my boyfriend in the minutes between realizing I was going to have to say J’ai un petit ami and saying it, I would have.
This fucking class (that I chose to take and paid for). I am so sick of repeating shit over and over, unable to hear myself because of the goddamn chanteuse talking louder than everyone else.
3:00 pm • 23 July 2013 • 16 notes
what a cock
also the intro to this PR interview is batshit crazy. enjoy…
6:46 pm • 20 July 2013 • 11 notes
Can we talk about the Penguin Cafe Orchestra?
12:17 pm • 19 July 2013 • 14 notes
french class, week two
- I was a little late to class, but realizing it didn’t matter was a moment of relief, then joy.
- The sommelier is now a chanteuse.
- Muji: what a great store.
- Taim: what a great falafel place.
- On the way home, this young guy with a gorgeous body was dancing shirtless on the train — he was wearing headphones, singing to himself every once in awhile. There was some slow motion twerking. It was…astounding, really. He was being goofy but not really performing, it seemed like the way you’d dance if you were in your own bedroom, looking in the mirror. I couldn’t look away. The old black guy sitting next to me was trying not to laugh the whole time, but finally gave in and cracked up. After the dancing guy stepped off the train, the old man turned to me and mumbled, “They’re not supposed to come out like that.”I wasn’t sure what to say, and I guess just hoping he meant “they” as in “dance moves” or “come out” as in “come out of the closet” and not “they” as in “men” or “black men” or “black, gay men” and “come out” as in “turn out like this.” So I just shrugged and said, “Well, he was a very good dancer!” (Ha! I mean…he was?) The old man shakes his head and says, “Not if you’ve seen dancin’.”
- Have I? Now I’m starting to doubt myself.
3:00 pm • 16 July 2013 • 31 notes