watched fight club last nite, 2/3 of it, no, 3/4.
the way it was written is very douglas coupland, the script, very, i-hate-my-culture. it made me want to be cynical, more than i already am and walk around in a messed-up work shirt with blood on my lips.
feh.
something is wrong with my audioblogger thing-a-ling. there are ludes and ludes of mentalpatientraymi recordings out there that i am waiting on.
before fight club, mark and i were dancing around to tarantino songs and i started smoking a cig in a slow-motion cool way when the zed’s dead song came on and i brought up the you notice when a song is on everything gets cooler in the room discussion and we got to talking about it for awhile until some ole lady banged on his door for us having beastie boys videos blaring simultaneously with tarantino movie songs and he was like, i am going to be evicted and i said was that your first noise complaint ever? how old was she? was she mad? what was the expression on her face?
mark goes well, i cut her off before she could even tell me to turn down the music, i said, MUSIC TOO LOUD?
mark also said something wrong to an old guy in the elevator about how yeh he is new to the apartment and yes he is young and then we started laughing uncomfortably and exited the elevator and i said um did you really just tell that guy you were young where the fuck did that come from? mark says yeh i know, “Yes i am new to the planet and i am young!”
it’s ‘cos every tenant in the place is a hundred years old and their cars in the underground garage have thick dirty dust on ‘em and flat tires. the landlord is eighty and very nice and thinks i am a silly prostitute because i wear ridiculous furry winter hats and flamboyant jackets and i am always smiling awkward polite prostitute smiles at him because that is what julia roberts did in pretty woman ‘cos she knows she is not suppose to be in that fancy hotel.
me on the other hand, i know that everyone in mark’s apartment is old and i am not so old and that i have every right to be there and it is just a mistake that i am of the female-persuasion and i usually have a six-pack hidden under my jacket anyway so i figure if i smile and not say much, that makes me invisible?
ok i already forgot where i was going with this so, good morning, expect more posts all day long in-between me knitting the whole town fancy sweaters because that is what i do.
