memorandum to body/update/ode to hotness

Dear Body:

I know that drugs have become new and exciting in their potential for abuse.

However, this does NOT mean that you are obliged to wake up at three in the morning for no fawking reason at all. Especially not when there is already the need to be up at 7 am.

Thank you for your consideration.

Other resurgent pet peeves: the inability of the human populace in general to throw away the cardboard rolls of toilet paper when they are finished (why?! why?! it's so simple!!!) AND the existentialist death-march of French high schoolers. Seriously, people - one painstaking, loafing footfall in front of another. Tragic to watch, annoying to get caught behind.

Well, the depression is gone, gone, gone - apparently all I needed to do was acknowledge it and force it into retirement. Plus, what, I'm leaving this country in 34 days and it's really just a waste of time.

Went to Quimper this weekend with the goils, AKA Imani and Magui (my sexy Espagnole whom I had a sex dream about (weirdly)). It was lovely, lovely - we managed to land some hashish from the pseudo-ex-boyfriend of our fourth mousquetaire (Elaine, the rad Irish girl) and then it was off to Quimper to party with the local assistants there.

Tragically, we forced ourselves to be the drunkest people there, got totally defoncé on top of it and were pretty antisocial. Well, actually, Magui and Imani were, I managed to crawl back into the public eye.

PERHAPS in part because there were a whopping THREE people from the actual west coast! The shock nearly killed me. Because whenever I meet Americans they never seem to come from my coast. However, there was even one girl from Davis, CA which is a fucking stone's throw from where I grew up (we were even born in the same hospital). But get this: she has my fawking BIRTHDAY. That's some crazy shit, non? Not the same year, but same day and same hospital.

I actually just forgot that until right now. Because I was wasted.

Luckily, this girl from Alaska I wanted to force to be my new best friend was there. I remembered her from the stage as being a totally cool smartypants and saw her in Brest one night, many moons ago. Where I was also wasted (in the tradition brestoise). So I have not really successfully convinced her to become my new best friend. Nor have I convinced her that I am not a frothing-at-the-mouth alcoholic. But we did managed to talk about New Orleans and I found out that she is a genuine MFA-in-creative-writing-holding smartypants.

But I will probably never go to Quimper again and tragically these people shall disappear from my life story. I imagine. Whatever, they probably have no respect for us because we passed out before 1 AM, the scheduled hour to get thineselves to the afterhours boite. It was embarassing. More embarassing when we woke up...in someone else's completely abandonned house.

We did what most people would do: steal snacks, smoke a joint, take showers and decide not to clean up any of the filthy post-party scene. It really seemed the only logical choice.

Then, we cruised to the cinema to see La Vie Aquatique, which I had been hot to see for some time. It was playing in Brest, but dubbed in French, so I refused to go. Luck was with us and I found out that it was playing in Quimper, a ville one third the size of Brest, in version originale. Yay! So after a long promenade and some serious 'now-let-us-face-fuck-ourselves-with-kebabs,'we went to the film.

My impressions: Andersen manages to deliver a strange, beautiful world full of unique characters, crazy style and beautiful music, like always. His imagination is out in full force, as ever. However, the narrative lacked the momentum of his other films. The story was slower, more awkard, lacking in the same zip that made Rushmore and Tenanbaums so fawking hot. It was great to see him go into a more surrealistic, bending-of-reality kind of place, but a little disappointing when we notice the cost. Good film in general, but I was hoping that Andersen would not misstep so early on in the game.

Yesterday, I listened to Wilco's Yankee Foxtrot Hotel for the first time. Which is kind of pathetic because I have been a fan for a while, but I was obviously not even remotely aware of just how fucking amazing they are. I think I managed to hear all of their albums before finally getting ahold of and listening to what is widely described as their masterpiece.

Okay, that's all. Plans for this weekend remain hazy, but hopefully I'm going somewhere. EVERY WEEKEND IS CRITICAL now.