at best, i try to avoid getting into detail as to why i think disney's ariel is a terrible character. i'll merely mention that i think she's a terrible character, at best. at worst, i go into very specific detail as to why i think disney's ariel is a terrible character. i want to be at my best, for now.
if i did want to be at my worst, i would throw in my most recent gripe with disney and its maleficent. i shouldn't be at my worst right now. it's six am after all.
an experimental horror movie called begotten (1990) has recently sparked my interest. it is, by far, the douchiest movie i have ever chosen to watch. it received a wide range of mixed reviews. most commonly, average-joe critics claim it to be a pretentious hipster (silent/black-and-white) movie that thrives on obscure, over-exposed scenes and symbolism excreting out of itself. (i liked it). i'm not sorry for liking it, but surely i am deemed a douche (refer to comments section on youtube reviews).
i don't hate the beatles. i don't hate the beatles. i vow to that. but i could absolutely live without ever having to listen to the beatles.
my lungs are raw and ripe all at the same time. i keep screaming the medic in my car. i scream until i feel my head lighten and spin, and i more or less hope that i actually faint.
lightning vs lightening, get it together everyone (i'm sorry about this one douchery)
orange is...nevermind.
grace. god fucking damnit grace. jesus fucking christ grace. for the love of fuck, nevermind.
it's six am and i still haven't fallen asleep. i peek at four am almost every morning now. by five am, i have my internal argument whether or not i should try to sleep or stay awake. it's always different. i have this sick feeling that i won't fall asleep today. i wanted to sleep earlier, because my yesterday was terrific. if i'd just been able to sleep several hours ago, i could've marked my yesterday a great day, which raises chances of having the next day (today) also a great one. (that sentence structure feels odd to me, it's probably wrong, but i am tired and feel no motivation to try and revise it).
i feel sick.
i wanted to make this as trivial as i could because i'm sick of clacking about my feelings. goddamn fucking feelings. "i feel _________."
lately has been alright. i've been alright. but. it's the four am and five am that reaches for me with its long, eager arms, dragging me out from myself when i acknowledge i feel alright. it's the four and five am, dragging me along gravelly, breathless trips of a groaning panic into my pillow. it drags till i squirm, literally, under my blankets where my toes stick because of the sweat escaping every pore in my lessening human vessel.
and i get so dramatic like this and so in touch with feelings once my body begs for sleep. and i start to refer to myself as a vessel. and i tell myself that a vessel is precisely what i am and what anybody else is. too tired for cynicism and too tired of my own shit, so i generalize to everybody else. it's easier because it's controversial to generalize, and obviously that takes the focus out of me and my fucking feelings. this has been a diversion. i got you. i fucking got you.
maleficent was stupid. jolie got me. my mouth was open because yeah, she was fine as hell. but the movie was stupid as hell. i had something of a boner, but it was still stupid. it's seven am, i won't sleep, and i decided this one can be at worst.
