baggage's Diaryland Diary

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white trash jack

So, I made it through about five minutes of Bad Santa. Gross, fucking piece of shit movie that is. Considering how good Billy Bob was in Sling Blade, why the hell is he doing shit like Bad Santa and the the Bad News Bears? It's the same character is it not? Kinda like a white trash Jack Nicholson? I used to maintain that no art is bad-that our opinion of a movie or a song or a painting or a poem is entirely dependent on our state of mind at the time of experience. So, in light of that piece of wannna-be-logic, perhaps I'm just not in the mood for a foul-mouthed, puking Santa. What do you thiink, eh? tell me, dagnabit! Communicate you fucking bastards! Isn't that what an online journal is about? Hell, you don't even know me! Feel free to spill the proverbial beans at no risk whatsoever. I can't, like, not call you when all our buddies are making plans! I can't tell our shared friends that you slept with that GUY from the Mexico trip! I can't act all pissy like friends do when they piss each other off! Speak up! need other opinions to force open this empty head of mine.
Anyway, I had a conversation about this with a new commute friend the other day and she called me a snob. A snob? Me? Hmmm...maybe so, maybe so. So, anyway, enough about that.
Had lunch with S today. Beautiful, funny, smart and sexy S-naturally attractive and complex-exceedingly so-and so absolutely stunning because of it. Can you tell I'm smitten? And before we go much further, let me clear up the haze that may be forming. This is no affair. I'm much too boring for that sort of thing. I do get bored I admit-but it's going to take more than that for me to take a step into that particular alleyway.
But, lunch was nice. The conversation wasn't forced, the food was good (artichoke hearts and sun-dried tomato pizza for me), the surroundings suitably dark and air conditioned. Our conversations tend to focus inward-like we open up our heads and let each other see and comment on the contents. S is easy to be around-and easy is damn fine with me.
Just finished "Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind." I enjoyed it-although "Lost In Translation" still tops it by far. Some random thoughts about relationships come to mind: Are we destined to be with a specific person? Even if the relationship is doomed from the start? Even if the very qualities that attract us initially will eventually drive the wedge that separates? Will Joel and Clem learn from the mistakes they made previously and make it work this time? Is the initial rush and ecstasy of love worth it even if the relationship is doomed? Are we that predictable?
S sez that what makes the movie work is that these questions are unanswered in the film. That it's up to the viewer to make up their mind. Hmmm. Not bad.
Tonight will be dinner with a couple of friends. The Girl is out with her family and she will most likely not make it home in time for dinner. It seems odd without her-going out I mean. It's like she's an appendage-a part of me that's somehow been amputated when she's not around. I'm not trying to be romantic here. This is literally how it feels. She's just been a part of my life now for 18 years-and when she's not there, it's, well, weird. I still have a good time, and I love being around my friends-but when The Girl is not there, something seems amiss. I keep turning around and expecting her to be somewhere nearby. Expecting to hear that cackling laugh, see that funky haircut (sorry, babe! Good thing this is private!). I don't like her hair at all-but she's experimenting. And experimentation is good. besides, have you seen my haircut? Oh God-talk about odd. I got not room to talk, beotch. Anyway, bad haircut or not, she's my partner. My other half. My closest and dearest friend. Like Lyle said, "No one knows me like my baby."
It's the weekend-and I'm suitably armed with a fresh dose of stress and ibuprofen to keep me adequately numb. Last week's dental work has left me with teeth that are supremely sensitive to cold and a pounding migraine. Whatever up with that, eh? The pain killer works pretty well-but I'm tearing through 'em. Must...have...more...pills. I hope to get some recording done this weekend. The song I recorded last week that sounded so great sounded like shit last night. What the hell was i thinking? If anyone ever asks, yes-ears do lie. Ears lie like a married mad on a business trip.
Speaking of which, I wonder what i would have been like if born a female? How much more different would things be?
Almost home. I can tell by the sway of the train. Toodles fer now.

7:34 p.m. - 2005-07-22

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