we don't know what the box means.

On Sunday night I saw the movie Mulholland Drive. Praise jeebus. Despite me having unexplained low blood sugar and a migraine throughout half the movie, the experience was fcking amazing. I tried to explain the general plot to MelRo when I got home, and I almost wish I had tape recorded myself, because I'm sure it was bizarrely amusing, especially considering I didn't even use the character names and instead called them "a voluptuous version of Jeanne Tripplehorn" and "Tea Leoni-lookalike with dash of a working-class Meg Ryan". Of course, using the actual character names would have been more confusing, with all the Betty/Rita, Diane/Camilla stuff going on. Anyway, I want to go see this movie again and I want to read psychological analysis by David Lynch and read essays on the meaning behind every possible hollywood reference. It's almost a movie I would watch and discuss with my mom, but it's far too weird for her. And not just because it's two women sleeping together. Probably the weird old people climbing out of the box would cause her to lose attention. But she would be so good at naming all the references from the old movies and whatnot.

Speaking of my mother, I thought she might have called my cell phone yesterday afternoon, but I traced the number and it was some financial company something in the Atlanta area with the same area code and similar exchange to their cell phone number. But anyway, I've been thinking about her a lot lately. I find weird memories in songs and whatnot. One of those cases where everywhere you look, you see something that's on you mind, whether it's a real connection or not.

Today I have no headache. Yet.

If it was up to me, you muh'fckers would stop comin up to me with your hands out lookin up to me.

Dre (Jay-Z) rhymes "me" with "me". Hmm. Poor form. But it still sounds good in context, I guess. Rakim really is the master. His isht is still being said, as if it's new.

It's been a long time, I shouldn't have left you
Without a strong rhyme to step to
Think of how many weak shows you slept through
Time's up, I'm sorry I kept you
from "I Know You Got Soul" (not Timbaland)

I got a question, as serious as cancer
....
I start to think and then I sink
Into the paper like I was ink
from I Ain't No Joke (not Shyne, not Mos Def)

How could I move the crowd
First of all, ain't no mistakes allowed
Here's the instruction, put it together
It simple ain't it but quite clever
from Move the Crowd (not Ghostface)


Though I'm not blaming them at all for quoting such classic lines -- they're not trying to bite. It's just sad that most folks don't know it's an homage. So that's my history lesson to folks, I guess. I take music way too seriously sometimes, and the lack of knowledge often causes me to severely dis on musicians and artists, particularly pop ones, who steal isht and present it as new, in a Tiffany box like Damon's friend Camille. Paris is burning, not Vogue. Toni & J-Lo and Cher & Tina, and Whitney, the biggest johnny-come-lately of them all. N Sync and the 2-step remix of Christina's song (at least she let the professionals do it). And more recently, the Neptunes and their lazy-ass selves selling the same beats to quasi-underground Philly's Most Wanted with one hand and to fcking Britney Spears with the other. Poor poor popstars and the crap they peddle. No, I don't want your tacky wares. Please stop pulling on my sleeves, I have no change for you. I give my dollars to more earnest cats.

I have to take these lessons to heart if I'm genuinely wanting to plunge in and become part of the production culture.

Now I go to lunch because I'm not making sense. Return my overdue videos at the library and pay a too high fine (but I guess that will teach me to not call in sick to work on a day when library materials are due).

I love Dinah Shore.

I decided to use my AT&T money on something 'frivolous' rather than practical. So I bought a couple CD's at lunch. One of them is by Waldeck, and when I did google search to find a review, more than half the sites were in French or German. Apparently, I'm that cool.

I have therapy tonight. Don't want to go, don't want to go, don't want to go, don't want to go. In related news, yesterday I watched the first 3 episodes of the Sopranos. Speaking of johnny-come-lately's, yes, I'm just now getting around to liking this show. Part of the reason was that I missed the first season, and I would watch it sporadically when I had free HBO last year, but never full episodes. I was reluctant to get involved since I couldn't start at the beginning. Plus, I'm one of those weird snobs that automatically is leery of widespread "critically acclaimed" shows, movies, albums, whatever. If I don't get into them BEFORE the buzz gets big, then I either never get into them, or I wait several years. Part of my reluctance has practical reasons -- as Chuck D said, don't believe the hype. And hype always ruins anything good. So I watched them, I liked them, I'll probably keep watching them, at least since the first season is no longer in the "new releases" section of the video store across the street, so they're cheaper. But that's not the point of talking about the show -- what I actually loved about the show is the Lorraine Brocco, the therapist, and his relationship to her. Quite impressed with the writers -- they must know good therapists and have been in the therapeutic setting before. My favorite part is when she tells him something that makes him mad, but then 3 scenes later he's using her words on someone else to explain a situation. I totally do that isht.

Only a few more moments left before I have to go see my own. Ugh. I don't want to talk about feeling sad right now.