I have my head phones on and I'm listening to 30 seconds to MaRs new albumn the NiGht of the hUnter and I'm thinking...

I'm bathing in the sea of emotion that floods me after just watching what might be a great film maybe just a nearly great film. It's still a lot to digest. One of the books I'm reading is all about pOstmoDernism. Funny I intuited the thoughts, I swam in them without truly recognizing them, latched onto them in the various forms of literature I ingest on a constant basis. Even if you try to ignore a movement like that and you read say Milan Kundera and love him, sometimes, and sometimes not. Well anywho, you understand the concept. When you go these institutions refered to as higher learning(turns out it meant getting high to intake or even believe half the bullshit they're selling), they sell this without being cognizant of it. I have to get really specific on this point. Most of the teachers, prof.s, instructors whatever the fuckktd title they wear are for the most part not conscious of it. Even if they read about it or studying it my guess is it went over their heads because their silly rebellions only imprisonsed them in the shittier gutter side of the concepts so that they became the self-unaware charactures of it for most of us students. They rebelled against sterotype only to be pressed into the bored plastic (in)action figures they belittled. (No I'm not bitter and I really would have to exclude a few of the teachers from this).

Okay growing way off base to explain as quickly as possible in the wide strokes of generalization but detoured because the concept gets sticky and complex but it's there. My conception is that postmoderNism is the complete consciousness of orginality, pretension, the fear that the great bit of writing you just did had been done and somewhere deep inside, maybe because of denial you are aware this might not be your thought but is your thought and does that take...

I have my head phones on and I'm listening to 30 seconds to MaRs new albumn the NiGht of the hUnter and I'm thinking...

I'm bathing in the sea of emotion that floods me after just watching what might be a great film maybe just a nearly great film. It's still a lot to digest. One of the books I'm reading is all about pOstmoDernism. Funny I intuited the thoughts, I swam in them without truly recognizing them, latched onto them in the various forms of literature I ingest on a constant basis. Even if you try to ignore a movement like that and you read say Milan Kundera and love him, sometimes, and sometimes not. Well anywho, you understand the concept. When you go these institutions refered to as higher learning(turns out it meant getting high to intake or even believe half the bullshit they're selling), they sell this without being cognizant of it. I have to get really specific on this point. Most of the teachers, prof.s, instructors whatever the fuckktd title they wear are for the most part not conscious of it. Even if they read about it or studying it my guess is it went over their heads because their silly rebellions only imprisonsed them in the shittier gutter side of the concepts so that they became the self-unaware charactures of it for most of us students. They rebelled against sterotype only to be pressed into the bored plastic (in)action figures they belittled. (No I'm not bitter and I really would have to exclude a few of the teachers from this).

Okay growing way off base to explain as quickly as possible in the wide strokes of generalization but detoured because the concept gets sticky and complex but it's there. My conception is that postmoderNism is the complete consciousness of orginality, pretension, the fear that the great bit of writing you just did had been done and somewhere deep inside, maybe because of denial you are aware this might not be your thought but is your thought and does that take away from it or not? You say to yourself this thing has reached its conclusion and can go no further and it's time to have it's funerual.

ONLY

you killed off the generic-ness of it(whatever the it is for you). You listed the attributes and compared it to the past the now, the future presentation before that presentation happens so that the reader receives the wink when it happens but can that be or not be but is nonetheless until finally THE CONCEPT MARRIES IT TO YOU AND YOUR INDIVIDUALITY AND BECOMES AGAIN. Maybe that's why resurection is such a powerful ancient concept. What books were burned or lost or locked up and stolen from our collective memories except in innuendos and allusion? Yeah.

So the film. The film and the catherticism I experienced. Right., DOn't read on if you don't want it spoiled for you!!!

The film was made from my life. That's the illusion every great story has, you can see yourself in it. So okay it wasn't. I am not nor have I ever been an arcitecture student and doubt I ever will be. But I am an artist. A clever hiding place for a writer huh? The boy has bought into the concept of fate, the one, the fairy tale, the romantic comedy girl of your dreams, lightening strike of perfect love and happy ever after err bullshit. That bullshit isn't ironic really. It's a lie. Because no matter how much life tells me not to believe it I still do. Anyway when life got really really hard and suicide seemed plausible(because of numerous things), like in the movie the guy's going to movies alone at the theatre he went with Summer. yeah that was me only here name was Cassie. Actually it was Cassandra Kuruna ROadhouse. Her name had real meaning beyond whatever she gave it or others for that matter.(Cassandra could see the future but no one would believe her and Kuruna means Karma lol and ROadhouse a place you stay for a short while hehe). That happened to me in real really life only I was dating another girl while I dated the ghost of a relationship because I scream Gerinomo like another movie and dived in while stripping myself of doubt and inhibitions. Except of course then I was vulnerable and too young and so tried to be cool by belittling all of those things I couldn't give her that she grew up with instead of telling her the thruth that I enjoyed it but it made me afraid that she would leave me for it.

So ...

The movie yeah.

Follows a man who meets the girl of his dreams only she's not the boy of hers completely. there's a real doubt. She meets the guy for her(?), at the moment anyway that takes her from not believing in boyfriend girlfriend labels to wife. And yeah there's a wedding scene where she catches the bouquet which is great playing with cliche and he sees her catch it and here the storyteller is amazing because we know what he's thinking with a cquick expression camera shot and are not told directly.
(I hate writers that don't trust their readers enough). And as a viewer you kind of are hoping and seeing your hope coming together only to be just as crushed as our hero. Ye-ah-ah-ha-ha sob sob.

Time out. Got to change the music made me think of a song from the movie I'm dying to hear and play outloud wherever I go with invisible speakers and random dance sequences with strangers.(Which we got in the film yay).

WHORE! It hasn't finished downloading just yet. 56% there on a slow download and my battery is running low so I have to complete this very uncomplete thought--zss.

Intermission.

I will no longer be going back to Iraq. The PTsD is back but not horrible but while almost taking my life from me is now giving it back to me. I love you PtSD.

I am so happy, frightened, tinge of guilt, grateful, scared, grabbing at that string to that balloon of hope and my LIFE err MY life back. How the fuck do you like me now. So it's time for this old cat to go back to school and pop it up a few thousand notches on a 100 click volume control and blast this experience out to a rocking jam...I predict at least fifteen great years ahead of myself. I've had some already but never fifteen in a row and it's about fucking time I do, why not. Right? riGHT? Come on. okay THEN.

That movie was awesome because it was self-conscious tip-toeing on pretension and I think, hope I didn't catch it do so. I think it had the balance. It made fun of itself and made itself serious without over doing. It made allusions which I'm seeing more and more of in good film which I'm seeing less and less of now a days.(Unless I replay the old ones).

Ah here it is now. The song I mentioned earlier. Hero preformed by Regina SPecktor.

"He never ever ever saw it coming at all. he never ever saw it coming. he never ever ever saw it coming at all. he opened wide and saw it coming original sin. It's all right it's all right it's ALL RIGHT it's all right it's all right, no one's got it all no one's got it all....
power to the people we don't want it we want pleasure... and we're going to these meetings but we're not doing any meeting, we try to remain faithful but we're cheatin'...
I'm the hero of this story don't need to be saved, I'm the hero of this story don't need to be saved."

There's some of the rough lyrics but not all of them. So fucking powerful that it gets the ineloequent yet ever more so eloquent because of its ineloquence of the use of fucking. So many uses.

Got to go battery dying and I'm a thousand different flavors exploding into the night, fireworks in the poring rain spilling off and running into the ground, electric bringth in the dark shadows of some long ago and just happening summer love of two youngsters seperate but dreaming and only thinking of eachother, panting and pining and unable to sleep for seven days.

PeaCe.