1:49 a.m. - 03.18.2004
The Dreamers & Punk Rock
I had a mostly excellent day. Class was okay, but we did a cool, fun writing exercise that led me to declare it awesome. Then I went to A's, got really high and she made a great dinner (rare tuna steaks, really good rice). Then we went to Borders because it is right across from the theatre we were going to see the late showing of The Dreamers. At Borders I got Believe, the McSweeney's magazine, the latest Paris Review because I want to read the new play it has and the latest Buffy magazine because it's all about Buffy on Spike sex.
I loved, loved, loved The Dreamers. The actor who plays the brother is my new husband. It was raw, twisted, kinda sick, hot, beautiful and fucking lovely. I highly recommend seeing it. I think you kind of have to be in a mood to see it and I was in that mood but I can't exactly explain what it was. It made me want to be 18 again and consumed with belief. It made me want to go to Paris. It made me wish I was born in a different time. Here is a really informative review of it if you're interested. As soon as I read it I put Last Tango in Paris, another Bertolucci film, and Band of Outsiders, a Jean-Luc Godard film, to the top of my Netflix queue.
I'm feeling good. The past few days have been really cathartic for me in terms of dealing with this boy shit, my writing shit and my cancer shit. I've decided that I'm reading this entry at the grad student reading this weekend. I'm going to do some re-writing, but I'm mostly just going to go with it. It's raw and harsh and before today I never thought I could read something like this in front of anyone. But people (teachers) at school are riding me about "tapping into my emotional reservoir" of what I've just been through, about bringing it into my writing but it's been pissing me off. I'm just like, "Back off, motherfuckers!" It's been hard. It's been getting in the way of me writing anything new. So I decided fuck it, fuck them, fuck everybody. I'm going to do this and I'm going to feel powerful and it's going to be punk rock. Now I just have to practice reading it so I can get to the point where it's just words on the page and not some huge, scary thing that can reduce me to tears.
Oh, and that boy-cancer thing? I'm totally over it, for the time being anyway. It's like I flipped a switch and he's now totally something else, he's no longer this deity. He's a fucked up, neurotic person but I don't even mean in a bad way. Now I can see him for who he really is, and that's okay, it's better than okay it's good. I think he's more fucked up than I am and that's saying something.
I feel so electric and alive right now but it's after 2 and I need to go to sleep. But I feel like driving down Lake Shore Drive really fast, you know?
