Psych!!! One more post...

Ah, the night before I leave, and I'm suddenly a hot commodity. People want me to hang out with them and shit since they won't see me for a whole week. Which is nice--especially since I see some of these people only once every week or two. Me saying I'm going to Hawaii for a week should be at the same level as me saying I'm going over to Ralph's to buy a loaf of bread and some corn nuts (though I eat neither, and I don't shop at Ralph's; if you're a Big Lebowski fan, though, you understand that it's more than just a grocery store).

However, I spent my last evening in Hollywood where my friend showed his film. It was shown in a gallery next to Paramount Studios with other short films. They served free beer! FREE! As in, you could just walk over to a tub, pull out a Tecate, and drink it. No charge. Free beer--a Hollywood Miracle. I could not understand this.

I could not understand some of these short films. The most incomprehensible to me went something like this: opening credits, and then me thinking, "Wow, these opening credits are long, but nothing stays on the screen long enough for me to read it," and then it was over. Lots of strange drawings that morphed, lots of colors, some text, but that was it. The guy that made that film explained that it was an anti-war film. What? What war is he protesting? Some sort of digital war that involves warring multi-colored blob figures and bizarre, shapeless lines?

Another was a documentary that followed a woman and her family as they and her family came to terms with her father's death. 10 years ago. When he fell while hiking. This is sad, of course. It was a sad situation of course, and she interviewed her mother, brothers, and grandparents. She relied on a lot of old videotape footage from her childhood. And she was sort of raising the question of, "Was his death an accident? Or did something more sinister happen?" Of course she never answered that, and seemed to forget she'd even asked it. But the whole thing taken together was like splicing family videos with a scene from the middle of an old, dusty episode of Columbo, and topped off with a shot of Oprah (well, a white attractive Oprah, at least).

We did miss SOME of the films. We were at Astroburger while the event started. We didn't get to the gallery until about halfway through. I had to explain to my friend that it might be a good idea to be at an event you've been invited to or that might lead a bad impression. He didn't understand. Hm. All well.

All right. I wake up in about 4 hours. Goddamnit.

Know this, though, before I go: I will never say the word "Procrastinate" again. I'll never see myself in the mirror with my eyes closed. I didn't apologize for when I was eight and I made my younger brother have to be my personal slave.

Now it's over I'm dead and I haven't done anything that I want, or I'm still alive
and theres nothing I want to do.

In case you didn't realize it, that was your Plagiarism of the Day. Which album? Who sang it? Why?

BONUS QUESTION:
Why can't you tell someone you miss them without sounding like an idiot?