(no subject)

"...yes, i met them through ________. you know him, right?"
"yes, he is...lost, right? kind of sadly lost for no particular reason?"


ha-ha-ha-ha-ha.

now, why didn't i think of that?

wawawa

so i went to this party at my professor's house up by columbia (he was the prof for my walter benjamin seminar). it was like a caricature of a stereotype of an academic party. on the way there i was issuing over what was an appropriate bottle of wine to bring, within my budget and yet not cooking wine, finally settled on some random $15 merlot, which was added to a consortium of, like, 12 bottles brought by the other students. needless to say, i got really drunk, and ended up in a retarded conversation about psychoanalysis with people who were either freudians or were devil-advocating, i was not very clear on that through my merlot-cabarnet haze, but their argument was that everyone is screwed up by their parents, and if i am screwed up, it's because of my relationship with my dad, which pretty much sums up the ideological reductionist all-contextualizing approach that makes me hate classical freudians. when i replied that i had a wonderful, functional relationship with my father, they said that i was protesting too much and obviously i was repressing. from there i fissioned-fusioned over to some poli sci theory guy who kept talking about machiavelli, and wanting to rule the world, and got offended when i called him a closet nietzscheanist, all the while making me teach him cat's cradle, which is a difficult embodied knowledge to pass on from one inhebriated party to another.
then the professor put on motown, and made us dance to it because "it's historically significant music." after that, it is all a bricolage of surreal conversational fragments encouraged by the always fruitful mixture of cold medication and wine.
now i have to write a 35 page paper for my film theory class, which makes me want to cry. like, real tears. send help. and hankies.