lasciate ogne speranza, voi ch'intrate
My roommates have watched six Nightmare on Elm Street movies over the last two days (four of them last night). Whereas I've been drowning in Augustine's City of God and Dante's Inferno. And trying to read Maupassant's horror stories in the original French. Not that I wouldn't be watching Freddy slaughter hordes of horny teenagers if finals weren't next week...
I was up all night again.
Damn this loneliness. Why can't I kill it?
I met a Swede the other night.
Finals start tomorrow. I wonder if I'll be prepared? Why do I care?
Fight Club gets better every time you see it. It's probably the official movie of our apartment. It's fast becoming my favorite movie. Because it means something.
That's what bothers me about so much of popular music, especially right now. It's meaningless, soulless, and insincere. Britney Spears, Christina Aguilera, Backstreet Boys, N'Sync, Ricky Martin- this music has no soul. Catchy tunes good for dancing, but made for the sole purpose of making money. all your heroes are whores What I look for in my music, what makes it the foundation of my soul, is sincerity of emotion and effective communication of that emotion. This TRL music- it's just hollow repetitions of phrases found in studies of focus groups to stimulate thirteen year old girls. Why don't they understand that they are just the dupes of a clever marketing scheme? This music is engineered in a factory using the psychological profiles of impressionable suburban girls with all their inexplicably irresistible economic influence as a blueprint.
But, the good stuff is still there, either rolling along inconspicuously with the flood of chaff or forgotten in the highlands. But it seems to be getting harder to find in the modern arena.
I just can't tolerate art made for the sake of material gain over artistic sincerity.
"I would not be the whore to my own existence. Can you understand that? I would not be the whore to my own existence."
If you've never read My Name is Asher Lev, you probably should.