Saturday, October 26. 6:38PM
I'm going to try this in chronological order (like the last paragraph of last weeks) and then no doubt I'll go off on some random tangent. To be honest with you, however, I don't remember last Sunday at all. Not even the slimmest recollection. So I presume I did nothing. If anyone knows what I did, please, email me. Monday was of course uni. The last of my nine hour Mondays, in fact (technically the Monday before that was the last as I didn't have the first hour this week, nor indeed did I have it last week, but I didn't know I wasn't going to have it last week so I still turned up, and hence didn't not get deprived of sleep or any such, so it still counted as a nine hour Monday). I had a test during Application Development, and Anh didn't come to the lecture, which meant I didn't have a chance to show her my finished assignment and hence lack of laziness, defeating the very purpose of not being lazy. She did however, give me a book, who's name I can't remember, but it does look very cool indeed, except I'm not reading it until I finish my current book. I would put down my current book and exchange it for this book, but for the fact that on the cover of Anh's book is a quote from the guy who wrote my book saying how good Anh's book is, and if I were to put down his book, I could hardly take his word on Anh's book being good without at least finishing a book of his. Aside from that, I hate putting down books halfway through, and it's turning out to be a ripping good yarn. I'm going to eat dinner now, but I'll continue this later.
A little later. 7:16PM, in fact. Tuesday was the last of my media classes, which was, as always, a bit of a laugh. I prefixed my speech with "call me an ignoramus if you will", and I think I may have made quite an idiot out of myself. I briefly saw my good friend Rhonda at the tram stop (she's such a good friend that I can poke spaghetti in her bra), and we exchanged a few words, and she indicated how extremely jealous she was that I had just had my last class of the year. I then played pool with the M-Man, which, as always, ended with one game all.
Wednesday I walked down to the video store, and spend some time there looking for Martin Scorsese films for my impending assignment. All I ended up with was The Age of Innocence and Goodfellas. I have yet to review Goodfellas, and The Age of Innocence was reviewed ages ago. I really should have asked, in retrospect, as it cost me $8.60 for two films, and would have been $10 for five.
Thursday I had to hide from the cleaner, so I went up stairs and put a little more effort into my Applications Development assignment. I watched some other movie on TV in the afternoon (The Night We Never Met, reviewed), and played a little X-Com Apocalypse. I ended up loosing too many agents to those damn brain-sucker bitches that I quit in disgust. I like TV on Thursdays because there's a fair bit of stuff I can watch, but there's this break of half an hour after Backburner that pisses me off no end.
Friday was the one year anniversary of the last day of school, so I met up with some of my old palls, and we went to the Steakhouse opposite school, the smell of which tempted us every day as we walked passed on our way to the station, and to where we went after school ended last year. It was pretty good. It would have been cooler if I hadn't seen any of them since, but I see them all all the time, so it wasn't that big a deal. After that Jonathan and I took in Red Dragon at the Jam Factory, which was all right, I guess. I've reviewed it, of course. I really should link in these reviews, but I can't be bothered. It led to an interesting discussion about movie crossovers and how it would be cool to have Hannibal Lector Vs James Bond, or perhaps Sean Connery from The Rock Vs Hannibal Lector. We had a whole bunch of better ones. It all really started with this cracker jack joke about how Edward Norton should always have one imaginary character in every movie he's in (like his black friend in American History X, or Marlon Brando in The Score, or Bitch-Tits-Bob in Fight Club.
After that came a brief sojourn home for a few hours, and then it was off to Andrew's for his eighteenth. I arrived in a cloud of glory, and was sort of following Andrew around as he reacquainted me with some old acquaintances and some strangers, before getting to the back yard where I met none other then Wesley fucking Rowe. Some of you may remember this guy from way back. He was sort of my pal years ago, when we were young and geeky, and then he fell in with these guys and got on pot something hard-core, and became a major Goth. Then there was this thing where I captured his ex-girlfriend (whom he was still obsessed with (so obsessed, in fact, that I conceived an evil plan to gain access to her email and send him an email purportedly from her, phrased in such a way that it would have just the right effect on his pot addled psyche and he would kill himself. It never came to fruition, however, as try as I might, I couldn't get her password.)), and this other thing where we exchanged some quite offensive emails and I blocked him. Anyway, last night, it seems, he was overjoyed to see me (gave me a beer in fact, which was VB, which usually I can't stand, but was fairly pleasant. Oh how the mighty have fallen.) on account of the fact that for years he has been longing to apologise for all that went on between us, specifically the email exchange, as it was actually my friend Nick who dispatched a vicious email to him, and he mistook me for Nick and reciprocated. Now, I don't believe it for a second, and I thought, "Man, this is one drug fucked fuck", but I smiled nicely, drank my beer, and then excused my self, after informing him that he had my forgiveness. He gave me his number and said, "call me, we should catch up." Well, "ha", I say. "Wesley, that's unlikely."
Later on, in the night, however, I drank another beer, and some of this aniseed Turkish stuff Jonathan had (like Uzo, or Sambuco, except better), then started on my own Vodka, which some fucks stole a great deal of. Jonathan told me to pick up this chick called Mel, so I pulled a slight move, and had her hanging off me for a while, and I could have had her, but at the critical moment I passed her onto some guy called Nathaniel, and they were making out when I left (and Andrew was about to punch Nathaniel in the face for being a sleeze-bag). I also had a shit load of this stuff from a UDL can, which I think may have been red-wine and something, and a bunch of Champagne, and a few other mixers and things. All in all, I got to the stage of drunkenness where one is really, really fucked. Before all this, however, I lost at cards, bonded with the younger siblings of some of my old Wesley classmates, had some conversations with someone's fourteen year old brother (who wouldn't drink, despite my best efforts), and Andrew's fifteen year old sister (who wouldn't drink, despite my best efforts). I called this guy who looked very little like Michael Jackson when he was young and black Michael a great deal, and this other guy who's name is Dave but I call Max (because he looks like this other guy called Max). I lost my lighter, but this guy said that he would give me his lighter, which, on closer inspection has turned out to be my lighter. Some girl called Emily looked me straight in the eye and said "this is going to sound really like I'm trying to pick you up, but you're really cool, and I'd like to see you again. Can I have your phone number." It was quite dark, but she didn't look all that heinous, and I was impressed by the woman's confidence (and she seemed sober, so maybe she was serious) so I gave it too her. She hasn't called yet, but you never know. I've never been 'picked up' like that before. In a way I hope I never see her again, as out relationship hasn't even started and already I'm the bitch. At 3:00AM I staggered home. I'm really, really surprised I made it, both because of the distance and the sense of direction required in a partially unfamiliar neighborhood (well, when I got closer to my house I naturally knew it better).
Today I was sleeping when about eleven, the phone rang. I listened to the answering machine reveal Will wanting me to call him, and seeing as I didn't really have a hangover, I thought "why not take Will to a play I have tickets for this afternoon but was planing on giving to my parents". So I did. Doctor Faustus Lights the Lights. Good old fashioned soul selling Satanic fun. After that we walked through the gardens, quoted Po (Edgar Allan), and eventually met up with Allan, at which point I went home to write my log.
In other news, they caught the sniper in Washington, which is kind of sad. He had so much more style than your average dude with automatic weapon who kills a few people in brief moment of glory. I would have been better if he had been a rouge gentleman who only shot the rich or something, or, I dunno, something cool. He was verging on a popper villain, like from a movie of some kind (well, not a villain, but a villain's chief henchman), and we all know that's how villains should be. Funnily enough, I saw on Entertainment Tonight that Hollywood is already doing the ground work for a tele-movie about the whole affair.
I had one intelligent thought today, so I'll end with that:
Isn't it ironic that the symbol for infinity, the snake eating it's own tale, would only result in the snake's slow and very painful death.