pleased by: good movies! Let me say, I cannot believe it took me that long to finally see High Fidelity, but I want to make up for it over the course of the next 2 days that I still have the DVD by watching it constantly. Not like the plot was mind-boggling or there were important ideas, but it really just had the best dialogue and smoothest ways of talking and the coolest characters ever.
displeased by: stupid movies. Like the one that is playing in my background right now. I think this may be the first entry I've written without background music, but I have to do something other than watch Ben Stiller being really stupid. Karl says I consider all comedies to be stupid, and he may be right. I can't think of any comedies that are high on my list of favorite movies, or that I even like hardly at all. What a loser, huh?
reading: beautiful stories! Really,

BEST
WORDS
EVER

"Lady," he says, "I don't think it's going to happen here. I wanted to cut your dress. I don't really want to fuck you, that's just not what I'm looking for today. Sorry if that was misleading."
"Yeah, well," I tell him, "it was. I do think cutting up someone's dress is misleading."

My lover is experiencing reverse evolution. I tell no one. I don't know how it happened, only that one day he was my lover and the next he was some kind of ape. It's been a month and now he's a sea turtle.

I think of that girl I read about in the paper--the one with the flammable skirt. She'd bought a rayon chiffon skirt, purple with wavy lines all over it. She wore it to a party and was dancing, too close to the vanilla-smelling candles, and suddenly she lit up like a pine needle torch. When the boy dancing next to her felt the heat and smelled the plasticky-smell, he screamed and rolled the burning girl up in the carpet. She got third-degree burns up and down her thighs. But what I keep wondering is this: that first second when she felt her skirt burning, what did she think? Before she knew it was the candles, did she think she'd done it herself? With the amazing turns of her hips, and the warmth of the music inside her, did she believe, even for one glorious second, that her passion had arrived?

---

Sigh. I'm really not in a writing mood, because reading high-quality stuff makes me want to write, but more than that, it intimidates me, and makes me feel like I should only write if I have something to say. Which is really quite silly, esp. if you know how I write, which anyone who reads this page on a regular basis has some idea of: I get going on one seemingly unimportant and random bit of information, and then I just talk and talk and talk and keep talking until I run into some other tidbit that I may be only slighty interested in, but have to talk and talk and talk about that too.

I don't ever have anything to say.

But in honor of Rob's top five proclivity:

Top 5 Things I Miss About That Boy:

• playing with his hair
• the way he looks at me when he realizes I've been watching him
• having the door held for me, and him asking if it's okay every time
• big good hands that look kinda rough, but are the smoothest thing to feel on my skin
• lips
• being in my favorite place in the world

Well, look at that. That's six. Ah, dammit. I'll get back to you.