...In which our heroine is tired of clever titles.

I'm watching Knocked Up for least the 20th time. I've seen The 40-Year Old Virgin at least that many times. There are some films I can watch repeatedly, and others that a one-time, or every once in a while viewing is plenty:

If it's on, I'm watching:

Pulp Fiction - I've seen Vincent and Mia dance over a hundred times, I'd guess.

Boogie Nights

Almost Famous

Blade Runner

Fight Club

True Romance

Pretty in Pink

Love Actually

The Shawshank Redemption

From Dusk 'til Dawn

Things to do in Denver When You're Dead

The Big Lebowski

Casablanca

The Rocky Horror Picture Show

When I Was Little:

Hook

Addams Family Values

The Halloween Tree

Scooby Doo and Ghoul School

Matilda

Beetlejuice

The Little Mermaid

Super Mario Brothers: The Movie

The Best Little Whorehouse in Texas

The Mask

Twister

Mars Attacks!

Films that I cannot watch often:

Salo: 120 Days of Sodom - there will never be anything to top the horrors in this

Requiem for a Dream

The Acid House

28 Weeks Later

Dead Alive

Audition

American History X

Chinatown

The Descent

Lots of lists lately. Don't blame me, I'm sick again with this goddamn cold. Mono has depleted my immune system to a sad level. And right in time for midterms! Lucky me. I did finish my editing project today, and learned about the sound mixing process. I saw the Gossip last night and it was fabulous. They covered "What's Love Got to do with It," "Psycho Killer," "Smells Like Teen Spirit," and "We Are the Champions" to an electro-punk beat. Beth Ditto is fucking fierce and I ran into her right before the show. Her voice was better live then recorded, and she was sick. It also marked my first solo concert, but I was too busy dancing to care.

Also, I'll be back in the Queen City November 6-9th. Plan accordingly.

...In which our heroine takes it easy.

After the dourness of last post, I thought I'd make a list of simple pleasures. Just some day to day things that make me smile, nothing serious. As Ferris says, "life moves pretty fast, if you don't stop and look around once in a while, you could miss it."

• Waking up without an alarm clock.
• Painting my nails red.
• The crappy horror movies from the 80s and 90s they always show around Halloween.
• Eating breakfast for dinner.
• Showering, and thus staying in my pajamas, in the afternoon.
• Thinking of the perfect word for something.
• Picking up right where I left off with old friends with nothing more than a look or a laugh.
• The way my house sounds in winter.
• When my mom sends me back issues of Entertainment Weekly/any packages received.
• Tarantino's dialogue.
• Talking until 3 AM about things that'll probably give me nightmares.
• My plaid, men's XL fleece pants that I swim in.
• Giant marshmallows in hot chocolate.
• Sleeping in the nook between arm and chest of a boy.
• Listening to Radiohead/Fleet Foxes/Led Zeppelin on my iPod falling asleep.
• Waking up to music - not Lady Gaga my neighbor plays though.
• Pictures of cute, preferably baby, animals.
• Diners. Waffle House at 3 AM.
• My about once monthly cigarette.
• Beards, flannel, glasses, dark hair, band t-shirts, Chuck Taylors, in any combination.
• Not being jaded enough to still be moved to tears by a Pixar movie.
• The way my face gets all flushed when the end of a film is perfect - recently: Inglourious Basterds.
• Wasting hours in Half Price Books.
• Sunday breakfast, even if it's just for myself.
• Red lips, dark hair, pale skin, hourglass shapes.
• Staying up late on Sundays to wait for Mad Men to pop up.
• Sleepovers.
• Dressing up Boris, the anteater.
• Going to see movies with my dad.
• Going to Chipotle and have heart to hearts with my mom while there.
• When the writing is going so good my fingers don't go fast enough.

There's a whole lot to be happy about, and hopefully it just keeps getting better.

And this is one of the most cheerful songs ever. I can's listen with attempting to Vandella it up.

...In which our heroine has a requiem.

Like another lady I know, the blogs have been frequent lately. I should be reading a Howard Zinn article, but let me take a moment to lament for times gone by.

My dad always calls me on Mondays. He doesn't have to work until 4, and I don't have class. We talk about nonsense mostly. He asks me what I've been reading, watching, listening to. We talk about Mad Men, What Would Tyler Durden Do?, movie trailers, what have you. I look forward to these talks. As he says it, he taught me how to be cool, and now I keep him hip.

Today he broke my heart without even trying. Dads are good for that. He had knee surgery last week and thus can't work. He asked me for a sizable amount of money last week since I got my refund check, and what am I supposed to say? So I get to pay the phone bill for a few months.

That wasn't what broke my heart though, it's just money. He asked me about finding him a picture - for the first edition of A Game of Thrones, his most beloved and most valuable book. There is a picture of us, with the author, George RR Martin, on my desk from when we got it signed when I was a sophomore in high school. I asked him why, and he said so he could put it on eBay. And then my heart broke. Those, above all else, were the series of books that showed I was an adult. When I got to read them, it was his acceptance of me as a grown-up. We went to Dayton for the signing, and ate Uno at one in the morning on a school night. It's one of my favorite memories with him, getting those stupid goddamn books signed. "What do you want me to say, Kate? We're just scraping by," he said. I don't know what I wanted him to say.

He talked about selling my oboe and my clarinet, which I could give a shit about, but he talked about selling the others in the series, all signed. I bit my lip to keep from crying. Yeah, they're just books, but these are the things I get sentimental about. I hate that it has to be like this, that he ran our finances into the ground, drained my bank account to pay bills, so that when things like this or wisdom teeth or my grandma getting sick happen, it becomes dire straits.

But it's my dad...I know it kills him to ask for money, or at least I hope it does. I have to become financially independent but I can't say no to my parents. I think the truest test of growing up is realized your parents have just as many fucked up problems as you do, and that they are not the gods we build them to be.

This is one of those days I wish I was five again and my biggest worry was where the matching pink pumps were for my Barbies. I should stop bitching - one of my mom's friends has super invasive brain cancer and isn't doing well. Things, as always, could be worse.

We stopped talking about the book and started talking about what a weak year it has been for movies. He says he's going to watch The Hurt Locker, which I sent him. We talk about Kathryn Bigelow, female directors. I tell him I'm done editing and he says he's glad I'm so on top of things. I found a picture of the book, I tell him where to find it. I tell him to feel better and he tells me he loves me, monkey,...and not to forget to pay the phone bill. What was I supposed to say?

...In which our heroine recounts an evening.

Okay, so the exile from streams of consciousness wasn't very long, but I like them so deal. This is from last night though, so it isn't totally off the cuff.

It's Emily's friend Matt's 21st birthday. We're watching Near Dark and she tells me we're going. To a high rise on Lakeshore. A very posh high rise. The lobby seems positively hot after the chilly wind that appeared suddenly and has persisted through the week. I've gawked at this building before, and it's definitely the nicest building I've been in through the city. The lobby looks like Don Draper should be smoking in it. Instead of going up, Matt meets us with a bottle of beer with an elephant on in and we go to the basement. Emily is met by two photo majors she hates, discusses lenses and things I do not comprehend. This must be how she feels when I start talking about discontinuity editing. A tall man with long dreads that looks like he could be in TV on the Radio passes me a pink and blue bowl and I don't say no. Back on that chain gang. Somehow, standing in the circle of smokers, it doesn't seem so cold anymore.

We go upstairs and I realize again, how little of a hipster I am. They're like action figures - ginger hipster, ironic headband hipster, bro hipster, asian hipster, and lots of photo hipsters. Vlad, one of Emily's most hated, keeps taking my picture, the flash making spots in my eyes. Every time I go to these things with her, I meet people I've met before, but they're too drunk to ever remember. Someone gives me a PBR - elixir of life to hipsters - and I don't say no again. A Classics major from Northwestern with no social skills starts talking to us, and I feel bad for his inability to talk to girls. We go into the kitchen and I smoke guava shisha, which is fruit, out of a hookah. I get incredibly lightheaded from the thick smoke, which has left my chest aching today. We stand in the foyer, which is hot from the plastic chandelier, and Emily simultaneously fends off advances from three different boys while I watch. I feel like I'm dead weight at these things sometimes. One of them is a creepy DJ we met at the Glow in the Dark party who always hits on her. She starts speaking hebrew and talking about Israel with a boy whose class is next to mine. He is drinking whiskey and root beer. I decline another PBR. I meet a film major, then another, then another, but our conversation ends once we ask "what's your concentration?"We go back to the kitchen and try to get the hookah going again. "Electric Feel"is playing, and we talk zombies. Emily is drunk and keeps hitting the kitchen light switch. It's one AM, I want to leave because I hate taking the train this late. Matt hugs me twice and thanks me profusely for coming. The night is reaching it's peak and the shit shows are beginning. It's so cold when we leave. For being Lakeshore Avenue, there's trash everywhere. We discuss the party - I tell Emily to pursue the boy she was speaking Hebrew too. The train seems a million miles away. We dodge lots of broken glass on the sidewalk. A homeless man asks Emily for a dollar, and when she says no, he kicks her in the shin. I'm glad she's drunk, because it keeps her giggly about the thing. Bad vibes, so I decide to just stay at her apartment. We drink hot chocolate, extra marshmallows, and watch public access cooking shows. The woman is deep frying panna cotta - I like her. Emily is getting goofy, so we talk soul-mates. She is friends with mine - a drummer from Cincinnati who she went to Jew school with and is the most attractive thing I've ever seen, although I've only met him once. She's texting hers, as she often does drunk. I go to sleep under a Carebear fleece where I'll remain for the next ten hours. Sleeping in jeans on a strange couch reminds me of high school parties, and my to' up-ness in the morning makes me nostalgic.

Updated to add photo realism, from excessive camera flash's Facebook:

Bryan Ferry is just the coolest. This is one of my favorite Roxy Music songs.

...In which our heroine suggests.

A quick list of the best movies you've never seen. Well, you might have seen them, but more often then not I get a blank look when these are mentioned. I own the first three on the list, and they rank high on my list of favorites.

The Sweet Hereafter - I recommend this film to everyone. It's beautiful and tragic and perfect. Saying too much spoils it.

Things to do in Denver When You're Dead - If you think Walken is good in Pulp Fiction, give this a whirl.

Head-On (Gegen die Wand) - The AV Club just added this to their new cult canon. This is one of, if not the best films I've ever seen about love.

Imitation of Life - It seems dated now, but I still love it. Race and familial relations, all in glorious Technicolor.

The Brotherhood of the Wolf - Graphically violent and beautiful. A great guy movie. Oh, and Monica Bellucci as a courtesan.

Ratcatcher - Sorry for the lack of trailer. This punches you right in the guts, but perfectly captures 1970s Scotland.

In The Mood for Love - Every aspect of this film is beautiful, but color symbolism and mood are perfect. Another great love story.

The Proposition - BRUTAL. But awesome, especially if you like westerns. Nick Cave scores it, which gets major bonus points.

Foxes - Probably the best film I've ever seen detailing the emergence of sexuality for teenage girls. And bitchin' 80s Jodie Foster AND Cherrie Currie of the Runaways.

Trust - My beloved Trust. Stars Adrienne Shelley of Waitress fame, who died too soon. It still isn't on DVD, but it is on Youtube...

Mysterious Skin - Like (500) Days of Summer? Yeah well Joseph Gordon-Levitt is phenomenal in this as a young gay hustler with a traumatic past.

Near Dark - Vampires. Road movie. Western. Kathryn Bigelow. Total badassery.

Exotica - No trailer again, and this is the only scene I can find, sorry it's a striptease. This is a good explanation though of what you think Exotica will be like, and it totally subverts those expectations.

Dear Zachary: A Letter to a Son About His Father - The saddest film I've ever seen. Period. I cried for the entire second hour. My dad cried, and I can count on one hand the number of times I've seen that happen. Don't read anything more about it, watch it. The less you know the better.

What did I miss?

...In which our heroine changes it up.

Try not to get too excited...I just try to keep you wonderful readers on your toes.

PS - I'm watching Titanic. I don't even care, I'll always love this movie. James Cameron is pretty infuriating, but he can direct a film and has a distinct vision as an auteur. I'm cautiously excited for Avatar. Kate Winslet is so pretty in that red almost suicide dress.

Speaking of, here's some epic, late 90s trash from the Titanic songstress herself. We listened to this song like four times yesterday. So awful, so delightful. Telly does this adorable French-Canadian thing like Ana Gastyer's SNL impression when she sings it. This video screams 1997:

It's All Coming Back to Me Now - Celine Dion
Uploaded by Choulilou13. - Watch more music videos, in HD!

...In which our heroine is the midnight rambler.

Ramble, ramble, ramble since we seem to not only like them, but make some of our own.

The Facebook online box is a list of former lovers. It always it hits me when more than one of them is on at the same time. Someone who you've shared you're most intimate moments with is reduced to no more than a green dot and a tiny profile picture. Technology, what a weird thing. Not even former lovers. Former classmates who I spent nine hours a day with are reduced to no more than "WHO DEY" status updates and changed profile pictures. The wind is howling fierce outside and I love watching it rain from this height. I look at the Sears Tower, clouded in fog, and think of Ben, always. There's a tiny cockroach shimmying across the carpet, but he's too small to kill. There's also a spider that lives behind my tapestry but every time I try to kill him it just retreats back up. Fall is in the air and I can't put into words how the chill in the air and Sundays spent hitting these buttons makes me nostalgic. I miss my house in the winter and I miss taking it down and passing it around in my upstairs, when it was still something forbidden and fun and not a lifestyle. I haven't smoked or drank in a month which was longer than I went with mono. Bugs thinks I'm looking down on his current activities because of this, but really I'm just tired of the stoner lifestyle. Most of my peers indulge and I feel like I'm being holier than thou for living clean. The cockroach is migrating towards my DVD shelf and now "Crazy Mary" is in my head. Who really cares if their eyelashes aren't thick enough, Latisse? Mascara works just fine. Mad Men is more perfect than I can say and it inspires me to say less and show more. Which completely goes against the point of this. I spent four hours tonight writing about race and gender and I don't really give a shit about analyzing either. I will saying Writing Women Safe is both awesome and nauseating. When the woman, Tara Dabney, came from Family Rescue this week and said that in an abusive relationship, the woman feels like no matter what she does will ever be enough, I dug my nails into my palms and tried to make my stomach stop doing the hot/cold thing that happens when I'm excited or terrified. That class is making me perceive my life and my relationships in a new way. I need to call my grandma and aunt, but every time I do they make me feel like shit for being here. Sorry, I need to live my own life and that I don't have a three-year old right now. The spider veins in my thighs remind me I'm theirs, purple and fragmented despite the fact I'm not even twenty. Emily has them too which makes me feel not as horrible. A Johnny Cash song I don't know the name to, one line from it is on repeat. I played one level 47 times in Crash Bandicoot tonight before passing it and cursing every word I know. Then I lost on the next level, of course. We're under a tornado watch tonight so I won't sleep, the wind howling. I'm getting to be an expert at cat naps but my dreams have been especially vivid. Bachelor No. 1 keeps coming to kill me in them, or comes back to school. I wake up and can't go back to sleep. Tool Academy, now there's some deep television programming. They could shoot it in my building this year. I keep seeing cute boys in the film building but they all seem so old. Another mascara commercial - I don't even know what brand I wear, just that the tube is yellow and purple. I made the fatal mistake of finding out Cookie Jar blizzards have a thousand calories, but that won't stop me from using my dollar off coupon. I eat so poorly when school starts. I've had a headache for five days and my immune system is doing its best. I refuse to get a flu shot, swine or otherwise, or use hand sanitizer. Wash your hands, drink your OJ, do something nice for someone else, and sleep tight.

Here's that song. My mom would faint if she knew I was posting it, the only Pearl Jam song I still actively listen to and it's not even theirs: