That is one of my favorite short stories, for what it’s worth. By Joyce Carol Oates. Depressing as all get out, but that’s the way I like my short stories. I have been around, in the velvet cage. Making some things, thinking some thoughts, looking for jobs.
There are so many things I would like to write, but somehow, when push comes to shove, I find this is not the forum. So instead I will say that I did a bad bad thing today and ordered the new Kim Hargreaves pattern book, Breeze. My partner in Web crime Gina will tell me I did a good thing. With patterns this divine, I could not stop myself.
LOVE. I’ll take the skirt, too, please.
What can I say except that even escape in the form of entertainment is proving to be a transient pleasure. As I await Band of Outsiders from Netflix, I still look back fondly on a weekend watching Tropic Thunder. I am a lead farmer motherfuckers, don’t ever forget it.
See, I mix it up. The Goddard with the blockbusters. Woman cannot live by French flicks and Masterpiece Theatre adaptations alone. Though I have tried.
I have become a bottom feeder, selling almost my entire DVD collection on half.com — though some things will never go. I’m looking at you, Rushmore and Days of Heaven. But buh-bye, L.A. Confidential and Dressed to Kill. You fetched a pretty penny this weekend.
Jon and I went to see Adventureland this weekend, and I fear I cannot get the movie out of my head. It’s not that it was the greatest movie put on film — it was good, don’t get me wrong. But it made me so nostalgic for 1987 I think it has put me in a bigger funk than I already was. As I told another friend, I am in such a funk I am reaching Bootsy Collins levels.
When I say nostalgia, I mean that ache for things that were and can never be again. For making mix tapes, for a time before e-mail and stupid, stupid Facebook and Twitter (even though, yes, I do both of those), before newspapers and record stores closed en masse.
Yes, I still have records. Yes, I still have a record player. After watching Adventureland, I came home and put one record on that had a song featured in the movie, and it hasn’t left my player since. No, not The Replacements or Hüsker Du — I was never a fan of either. Not even Crowded House (though I am a fan, and have seen them three times). I was a weird combination of a goth girl and a Brit pop fan. Go figure that one out.
There’s so much I want to say but can’t. Maybe I’ll say some things this weekend. This weekend is my 20-year college reunion and I’m not going. I wanted to, but circumstances have made it a not-so-good idea. If nothing else, it would have been nice to show off my husband, because he’s a bit of a prize.
No, I’ll just keep playing that record.
I don’t have many friends I can talk to,
No wear to run when I’m in trouble….