subconscious cherry trees

2004-03-23 - 12:34 a.m.

so i'm browsing the onion personal ads, looking for signs of lane's ad though i can't remember what she told me her username is, when i see a guy's ad with this headline: "Sensitive man seeks bitch to hold."

hee hee hee. that's funny, that is.

i wrote down lots of stuff to talk about with you today. the guy at work who stares, the differences between fantasy and reality and the only place they ever coexist, my only quff with the cure, places to go, india to dream, evil fat people and nice chubby sidekicks, my new (children's?!?) book, etc, etc, etc.

but that's a lot of stuff to talk about, because believe me, each space between commas blossoms into paragraphs upon paragraphs in my mind. just turning the notes into complete sentences would take enough time as it is. so i'm gonna go back to basics, since, for some strange reason, i never really write in here like i used to.

i saw 'eternal sunshine of the spotless mind' last saturday. it was an interesting idea, though after about fifteen minutes inside jim carrey's head i had the horrifying realization that this was pretty much the bulk of the movie. eep, says i.

oh, i got it alright. all the weird flashes to and fro his mind, in and out and around his subconscious, the flash backs and flash forwards and all. i got the whole thing. and it really was a neat idea, it was. but i kept thinking about my car in the sketchy parking lot outside, and if i should have parked in a different spot, and if the jackass in the ball cap kicks my seat one more goddamn time, how big can feet be, i ask, and is his girlfriend hard of hearing because he keeps repeating things said onscreen to her, and this is why i don't go to opening weekend shows, and what's with the row of old people in front of us, how cutting edge are they going to the art theatre and seeing a very modern film directed by a frenchman, hunkering down in their seats like teenagers, that's badass, i like them, did theresa's little brother slyly say that my little sister was sexy at dinner, because that would be kind of cute if the fifteen year old had a crush on my nineteen (nay, almost twenty) year old sister, i hope they liked that chinese joint, they never said, whatever happened to the rest of the chewy sprees i gave moo, i bet she left them at home, glad i'm on the end so i'm less likely to get a whiff of any invading mongolian dragon breath, is msg still a big deal because i never knew what it was in the first place...

and so it went. sometimes i was in jim carrey's mind, most times i was still in my own. which is a shame because a really engaging film can take you right out of your own head sometimes, and that's usually a big plus about going to the movies. it's nice to take a vacation from your head every now and then.

i did really like kate winslet's character. she had pretty colourful hair, and she played indian music in her apartment, and she was a 'book slave' at barnes & noble, and she walked on the beach in the cold by herself, and she wore her orange jacket all the time. as i watched the movie i thought, 'hey, kate winslet reminds me of myself. that's cool.' then after the film moo turned to me and said, 'i liked kate winslet's character. she reminded me of you!' and i grinned, because that was just what i was thinking. i'd love to dye my hair that often, too. i dye my hair frequently in my mind. and if i knew that i could earn a steady paycheck with fire engine red hair, then by god i'd go and dye it tomorrow. alas, that must wait until i'm a hermetic writer.

wait, i'm that already.

a paid hermetic writer. aye, there's the rub.

well, i'm down to the last few pages of harry pooter five at the mo, so i'd best be off again.

wait, there was a dream i wanted to tell you about. i had it in nashville a couple of weeks ago. something about a red-haired boy and a cherry tree...

oh well. the boys and the cherries will remain safely tucked away in the whorls for now. harry pooter is the only boy on my brain at present. which is really saying something.