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Danny Djeljosevic

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[Apr. 1st, 2008|12:49 am]
It's unfortunate to follow someone for such a long time. Immediately you start to think if this person is wondering if you're trying to stalk them.

Really, I wasn't. I was just walking to my car.

I held the door for her after class ended and she spat out an abrupt "Thanks." I was maybe too nervous to grin or even reciprocate with a "you're welcome."

Then she ended up walking the same way I did towards the garage. Walking behind her, it felt like we were on the cusp of a conversation. At least, it would have felt natural. At this point I had enough material: what did you think of the show we both happened to be at last week, did you like tonight's movie. One problem, though.

She was always incredibly quiet in class. Creates a sense of unapproachability, like I just might get the cold shoulder. Maybe that's how I come off. Too quiet and thus unapproachable. Like looking in a feminizing mirror. As if I needed that.

Soon enough, thankfully we went separate ways. A wasted opportunity, but then again, I felt a little intimidated.

"There's no need for that," I muttered in my car as I turned onto the road.

I wondered what the hell I was referring to.
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Feels so unnatural, Peter Gabriel, too. [Mar. 26th, 2008|12:08 am]
A social outing with the creative writing class seemed like a good idea. Shaun organized it, inviting outsiders from previous creative writing classes he was in, too, and other interested individuals. Even our esteemed professor, Padgett Powell, joined us.

A tall boy of PBR and some likeable characters at the outdoor area of Tim & Terry's sounded like a recipe for an alright time, but for some reason it wasn't working for me. Maybe it was Zach and Greg monopolizing the conversation and being generally funny (as I attempted to throw in some jokes that went largely ignored) or that we were a large group, a set-up that never really worked for me, be it embarrassment in restaurant seating or plain and simple unwieldiness.

Gradually people began to disappear, and I found that there was a group of pairs all having their own conversations, except me and the girl to my left. For a moment, I considered striking something up, but then I wondered what my intentions were, and thought better of attempting ponderous conversation.

Resorting to simply watching other people talk, I wondered what was wrong with me.  Why couldn't I be charming, sociable, or funny? It occurred to me that maybe I wasn't funny. Maybe I'm only amusing in some social inside joke context (see: interaction with Rafael Gaitan). It was existential, worldview-changing stuff. Lately, I've been trying to not joke so much. I should try harder and eliminate the whole damned thing from my repertoire. It's not done me any good thus far, anyway.

Soon even the people I was most familiar with had run off--not home, but they were elsewhere at the joint--at which point I heard actual erudite conversation and Todd Portnowitz utter the phrase "Isn't Wallace Stevens like reading a Van Gogh painting?" So I grabbed my bag and left without saying goodbye to anyone.

Francesca and Casey caught me at the door, but as soon as their attention went away from me, I slipped out, just barely able to hear Casey bid me adieu over the fiddler on the porch.

For a while at the table, "Cape Cod Kwassa Kwassa" by Vampire Weekend was in my head, so I put on my iPod and played the album for the umpteenth time since first hearing it last Friday.

Stopped at the library and, buzzed, picked up some DVDs: Robinson Crusoe on Mars, Hyenas, and Stranger Than Paradise. Walked slowly back to my car so to sober up. Stood in front of Century Tower and looked up like I had never seen anything so tall.

It was a bitter, cold night, at least for Florida.
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A smattering of distant applause [Mar. 16th, 2008|10:27 pm]
Spring Break began with a trip to Orlando for MEGACON with the gang.

I used to look down on conventionss because I find geeks incredibly irritating and don't relate to them at all, but the energy of the whole event is infectious, particularly because of the people running around in costumes. Really made me want to get back into anime/manga, which I am in the process of doing.

Then there's the dueling tournament, where people (many dressed like Cloud Strife and other cool Japanese characters) fight with foam weapons. In character. It's amazing, and well worth the price of admission.

Saw Adrian Pasdar, a.k.a. Nathan Petrelli of HEROES signing autographs. Didn't care enough to get his for 25 bucks, though it was cool to see him. I later learned he's a UCF grad. Attended a Q&A panel with Erica Durance (Lois Lane of SMALLVILLE) and Noel Neill (Lois Lane from the 1950s Superman TV show).

Wandering around by myself for a bit, I came across the area with the professional comic book creators signing books and talking to fans. I spied prolific DC comics writer Mark Waid, whose work I read as a kid, and got incredibly nervous. This was a guy who wrote some of my favorite non-Grant Morrison, non-JLI Justice League stories, among other things, sitting right in front of me. I ran over to a comic seller and searched for an issue of Waid's current series, THE BRAVE AND THE BOLD, to get him to sign, but I realized I wasn't sure what to say to him that wasn't gushing (which I make it a point not to do). I swore to maybe try approaching him the next day, but he had left by the time I got there.

I did, however, talk to Darwyn Cooke, who does THE SPIRIT now and NEW FRONTIER. I pointed him out to Nick B he approached Cooke for an autograph on an issue of THE SPIRIT. Nervous, I managed to sputter out a question about The Spirit and we got to talking with Cooke about his taking on the character and the potential problems with Frank Miller's upcoming film adaptation. It was very pleasing. A glimpse into his shirt pocket revealed a pack of Marlboros, which I found kind of badass.

Picked up some comics including the first volume of Grant Morrison's DOOM PATROL, DOMU by Katsuhiro Otomo, and Mike Allred's RED ROCKET 7. Searched around for some cool Japanese stuff, but nothing really stood out. All the non-soundtrack Japanese CDs were of goth-hair-metal bands like Malice Mizer and the like, so there went my hope of getting into anything cool like The Pillows.

The one thing that always depresses me about Cons is what little interaction I have with the actual people there. It seems like more connections should be made with all these people with similar interests gathered in one place based exclusively on said interest. Then again, maybe that does happen and I just have a serious problem making friends.

I did, however, see several people I knew but did not actually make contact with (Hideous otaku from high school Japanese class? Check. Redheaded not-twins-or-brothers-but-awesome-cool-nonetheless from Gainesville? Check. Possibly Amelia D's ex-roommate Steven, who I tried not to make eye-contact with? Possibly check). Ran into my dear friend Allison who, up to this point, I had only known from the internet. It was lovely.

We stayed at Lisa's parents' house for the weekend. They were really, really nice.

After a good amount of shopping at the outlet mall during which I got a new pair of particularly fly Pumas, I drove home Sunday night. Shuffle mode on my iPod brought me to a Postal Service song, so I decided to listen to the whole album. It was a heartbreaking half-hour. Seriously. "Such Great Heights" almost made me cry.

What the hell is it with driving away from Orlando and discovering that I've made an emotional connection with an album that I hadn't before?

GIVE UP by The Postal Service is an album everyone listened to four years ago until we all got sick of it and it became a little too well-known. Returning to it, I've realized it's a great little indie pop album for sadboys whose Smiths albums melted in their CD players from spinning them too much. Ben Gibbard's lyrics have always been perfect in their over-precociousness like a heartbroken creative writing student who just bought his first guitar. Pair that with JimmyTamborello's homemade Game Boy beats make it feel like an album someone recorded in his basement to impress a girl.

I've got a thing for albums like that. NIGHTTIMING by Coconut Records has that feel (Jason Schwartzman holed away in some Coppola winery with a copy of Pet Sounds and some instruments), as does MEANINGLESS by Jon Brion (the first track, "You Gotta Start Somewhere," can easily be seen as an expression of the insecurity that this little thing he's recording brings nothing new to the table, which I totally relate to). Lock me in a basement for a month with some instruments and recording equipment, and I might come up with some marriage of the three. What I'm saying is someone please give me a recording deal regardless of my lack of musical training.

Choice tracks: "Brand New Colony," "The District Sleeps Alone Tonight," "Nothing Better," "Clark Gable," "Such Great Heights."

A week in South Florida was miserable except for all the going places with my visiting sister. Only problem was the returning home. Sure, there was a delicious home-cooked meal from my mom, but it was paired with general marginalization in the collective family unit.

Showed the family a couple of my movies, and they responded more to the Natalie Andres-directed shorts that I acted in than the ones I actually made. Fuck. I figure THAT'S NOT FUNNY is only funny to Rafael and me, anyway. Regardless, I'm not showing them anything anymore, because it only kills what little confidence I have. I felt like I wasted everyone's time showing them TYBALT BE TRIPPEN, but screening it for my friends (some of whom where not involved in the production) made me happy.

Went to the Morikami Museum with my sister. Walked around the gardens and saw the awesome Japanese tiger art show. Raf and Nick B came up from Miami to hang out/go to Tate's on Friday (items purchased: PERSEPOLIS, a promising manga called METRO SURVIVE, the TEKKON KINKREET manga, and an awesome Tate's T-shirt). It was a lot of fun.

South Florida needs more cool people that want to hang out with me.

Movies viewed: Hairspray (remake), In the Mood for Love, 2046, A Scanner Darkly, Sunshine, Definitely Maybe, The Bank Job, and Funny Games (remake). Also, some of Veronica Mars season 1. It's surprising how technically sloppy the show was in the early episodes. Still great, though.

Drove back to Gainesville with Kevin. Our music selection altered between cool indie rock (The Kills, Stephen Malkmus, Magnetic Fields, etc) and Ghostface Killah albums. I've gained a new appreciation for Ghost.
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Please please please let me get what I want [Mar. 3rd, 2008|02:06 am]
Been depressed enough lately to almost exclusively listen to The Smiths. It's poppy enough to enjoy and wallow at the same time; for shy lonely boys who are on the verge of tears all the time, whereas The Cure is for people who wear black all the time and have divorced themselves from any recognizable form of society to write poetry amidst a commune of vampires. That said, I like "Friday I'm in Love."

Based on said wallowing, I have realized two things.

First, their compilation Louder Than Bombs (accompanied by an MP3 of "Girlfriend in a Coma") is the only necessary Smiths album, considering they released their best songs between albums and not actually on their studio records. "Ask" is probably my favorite song, for reasons obvious once you hear the lyrics. I once saw an '80s Smiths performance on VH1 Classic and realized that Morrissey's fans are in love with him. They do not love him; they are IN LOVE with him. I am not in love with Morrissey.

Maximo Park, despite being more guitar-driven British indie rock (Brindie?), also satisfies that sort of wallowing. Give "Books for Boxes" a listen.

Second, I have gone full circle. I was listening to this stuff in my freshman year of college, wandering through Turlington Plaza on my way to Cultural Anthropology, CD player in hand. Wonder what there was to be depressed about back then. Probably not having any friends aside from the high school people who carried over. Now I'm back to it, yet again a walking, sometimes talking cliche.

Now my senior year is winding down and the end of my apartment lease is essentially the end of the world. Going home is not an option.

Where I'm going and what I'm doing is one of several concerns forming a miasma of pressure and woe. Other concerns are far more immediate and painful. Learning from my last moment of weakness, I'll refrain from broadcasting them for everyone's sake.

My having not shaved in weeks is symptomatic. I vowed not to shave until I finished my short story for creative writing, but I put the final period on that a week ago. Now, I just have no reason to get rid of it. It feels weird, but I'm intrigued by how thick it has gotten-- at least, thick for what I expected from my ability to anything particularly manly. I might shave tomorrow if I'm feeling particularly optimistic.

Maybe I'll save the facial hair to play a part in that short film project I plan on finishing in time for Cinerama. Maybe.

Working on movies is a good distraction from all the angst and inner turmoil. I get to work with people I like and respect, and I can learn a thing or two for my own projects when I help out with theirs. It's fulfilling.

Writing, too. Today, I started dusting off MADWINTER from that Superheroine contest of a couple months ago and began writing a full treatment to round out the whole thing.

Speaking of dust, also thinking about getting a big Sam's Club-sized can of Pledge and tackling BUGMAN once again. It was always a good way to channel all my emotional strife about girls and stuff into something useful and not-festering, so there's that, too.

I really wish I could draw.
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Lies Lies Lies [Feb. 21st, 2008|09:49 am]

New Alligator article up discussing the 2008 Oscars. I think it's a rubbish article and the editing is a bit sloppy, but there it is.

I imagine everyone now wants to fight me.
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In return, you will bring me women [Feb. 14th, 2008|12:37 pm]
New Alligator article up, entitled "Moviefone for the painfully alone," which is maybe the best headline I've had thrust upon me. Kudos to David Low, my editor, for coming up with that one.

I've nothing else to report.
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[Feb. 5th, 2008|01:18 am]
Submitted an entry to Newsarama's "Who Wants to Create a Superheroine?" contest at the end of January. The idea was to come up with a cool superheroine idea for Image/Shadowline as a counterpoint to Bomb Queen, a silly comic about a supervillain who runs an entire city. The results are up, and I am not a semi-finalist. No surprise, really. My entry wasn't the sort of thing that condenses well into a brief summary, for one thing. It had a teenaged girl with superpowers, but she was hardly the traditional superheroine.  It was a high-concept thing with a bunch of characters and a big conspiracy, with a clear Veronica Mars influence (but not so much that it reeked of rip-off). I dunno why I thought that would suffice. I wanna work on it, but there's no point when there's no one to draw the big stupid thing. So I've got a half-baked story idea that will languish indefinitely.

My other idea was about a fashion model who thought she was the reincarnation of Cleopatra. Maybe I should have gone with that.

Acted in a Film Slam directed by one Natalie Andres today. Probably one of my better acting gigs in terms of my own performance.

She gave me a copy of a short she shot with me last semester that I never got to see. Popping it into my computer, I was shocked to see myself channeling Rivers Cuomo. While wearing a pink coat, at that!

Earlier today, I sat on a bench in the Plaza of the Americas and tried to read Around the World in 80 Days. The seat of the bench was composed of three logs that weren't lined up or even remotely close. It kind of hurt my ass.

Just then a pair of nice young ladies came up and asked me if I had time to talk about Jesus. Not just any Jesus, though, it was the special Jesus. The kind that fled to America after his failed tour of Judea. The pair was nice enough and I figured I'd let them talk and feel like they were accomplishing something. Apparently, there's free lunch to be had on Fridays in addition to something called a "forum," but I doubt it's vegetarian. Though, considering the creepy niceness of Mormons, they probably do provide vegetarian alternatives. And Hi-C.

The strangest bit of the talk was that one of the girls had a nametag that read Sister Yaphid (though I might be misremembering the name).  I wondered if she was a Sister or if that was just a weird stage name sort of thing.
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I shit rubies [Feb. 1st, 2008|03:14 pm]
Aqua Teen volume 5 DVD review is up. Has its moments.

Was in a rotten mood today. Whatever illness I have is making the world uncomfortably warm. Couple the feverish head pains with all the various concerns rattling around my head and you end up with a morose bastard ambling down University Blvd. listening to the depressive acoustic folk stylings of The Kings of Convenience. I wasn't identifying with the lyrics, but the sombre music was working out well.

After my one class today, I saw a band playing in Turlington Plaza: a Decemberists-like (without the tendency for sea shanties) group of guys dressed in old-timey garb. It was like some 1800s street performers got time-lost. They're called Bombadil, and they're performing at 1982 tonight. This made me feel better.

Walking further down to the Plaza of the Americas, I noticed the wall of prejudice (They have kids write all the nasty names they've been called on cement blocks, make a wall out of them, and smash it) was being destroyed. I've always seen it get built, but never destroyed. They do it every year (semester?), but it's a great symbolic act.

On the walk back home, in considerably higher spirits, I listened to Ghostface Killah.
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What the Smurf is it with fucks? [Jan. 31st, 2008|11:46 am]
Apparently getting a bunch of Smurfs in one place is some sort of world record thing, and a bunch of Croatian Smurfs attempted it.

The Smurfs are more interesting now that I know they come from a Belgian comic book (France and Belgium being countries that treat their comics right). In the original French, they're called "Les Schtroumpfs." Sounds like a pastry to me.

Walking home from class Monday night, a girl on her cell phone walked behind me, and I couldn't help but overhear her incredibly banal conversation. Thing is,  she kept saying "goes," as in "I go, " and "he goes." I started counting. Within a minute or less, she said some variation of "goes" 13 times. Wow.

Watched Blade Runner: The Final Cut Tuesday night. What a beautiful-looking, hollow film, driven exclusively by conceptual artists.

Went to the Girl Talk/Grand Buffet show. Grand Buffet was impressive/hilarious. Girl Talk, I cannot stand, because I find his mash-ups (and, really, non-Danger Mouse mash-ups in general) to be annoyingly ironic ("Look! Mike Jones rapping over a sample from an Of Montreal song! I'm making a career off of this!"), but it was an amazingly fun show.

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Apparently, Dubai is a shithole [Jan. 29th, 2008|06:08 pm]

Dubai is supposed to be this lovely tourist destination, yet they seem to arrest people at the drop of a hat and subject them to Kafkaesque interrogation and imprisonment.

Newest example: a man has been arrested for carrying melatonin (a drug you can buy over-the-counter in both the US and Dubai). A search of his bag revealed some dirt (!) at the bottom that authorities allege is hashish.

The guy's partner has made this story public on her LJ, including some links to other stories of foreigners being falsely accused of things in Dubai. My favorite is the boy who got gang-raped and then accused of homosexuality by authorities. The one about the woman who was hospitalized and given painkillers only to be arrested for having painkillers in her system is a little less heinous, yet still infuriating.
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Here is a review. [Jan. 28th, 2008|11:13 am]

Alligator finally put up my review for There Will Be Blood.




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LIVE ACTION SMURF PORN [Jan. 28th, 2008|08:30 am]

It really does exist.

"...and then they all died of lead poisoning from their cheap body paint."

(Thanks to Kat for the link)
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Think I came on too strong? [Jan. 28th, 2008|01:27 am]
[01:14] gainesvillejoe: hello
[01:14] discostevex: hey
[01:14] gainesvillejoe: how are you? horny i hope
[01:15] discostevex: the only thing that's horny is MAH DICK
[01:15] gainesvillejoe: let me cum suck it
[01:16] discostevex: no, you'll hurt your mouth
[01:16] discostevex: it literally is horny
[01:16] discostevex: i can't wear a condom, on account of the horns
[01:16] discostevex: so i'll only spread my horny disease
[01:16] discostevex: but i guess you can do it in the anus
[01:16] discostevex: Do you like sexual intercourse in a man's anus, billy?
[01:17] gainesvillejoe: i don't do anal
[01:17] discostevex: me neither
[01:18] discostevex: Heavy petting?
[01:18] discostevex: I practice on my roommate's pets. They seem to like it.
[01:18] discostevex: I dunno if people like being pet, though.
[01:18] gainesvillejoe: lol
[01:18] discostevex: maybe if you have a tail.
[01:19] discostevex: do you have a tail?
[01:20] discostevex: answer me, boy
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Holy holy crap [Jan. 26th, 2008|04:00 pm]
The secret behind George W. Bush's favorite painting.

It's things like this that give me faith in the world.
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Lover in the snow [Jan. 24th, 2008|11:14 pm]

This is usually the part where I post a link to my newest movie review, but my review for There Will Be Blood is not online for some reason. Ah, well.

Last night, went to the Top/The Atlantic. Did not drink. This made the night more tedious than it should have been. Waffle House, surprisingly, was fun, though.

While at Steamers' outdoor seating with Shaun, Shawn, and Raf, a homeless guy on a bicycle stopped by.

"Hey guys," he greeted us, "at the Sidebar tonight, it's Drink and Drown."

"Drink and drive?" said Raf. "That's not safe..."

"No. DRINK and DROWN," said the homeless guy, enunciating the words. "You come in at nine, pay five bucks, and you get to drink until two. You can just drink beer all night! The Sidebar employs me."

"Oh, wow. That's cool, man," said Shawn.

The homeless guy approached the table. "Do you guys have any change? I wanna get a four-pack."

It took all my will not to laugh. Hard.



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Danny rambles about the Oscar nominations [Jan. 22nd, 2008|09:44 am]

Oscars in general don't mean a whole lot to me. I don't really care what won in the past because most of the movies I watch and love do not score Oscar noms, much less actual statues. Possession would never win an Oscar. Apparently Zodiac wouldn't, either. Paul Haggis' Crash
has an Oscar, though. I hate Paul Haggis' Crash.

The only ones that matter to me are the interesting ones. Three Six Mafia possessing a statue is important to me.

It's a fairly interesting group of nominations.

Best Animated Feature

Ratatouille
Persepolis
Surf's Up

Okay, so we've got two respectable animated films up there. One more guys... how about a movie about a surfing penguin? The Simpsons  Movie deserved one for making a movie that didn't suck (oh, and then there's the animation). Beowulf deserved one for being awesome (I swear to God, I'm the only person who thought that movie was legitimately good).

 I wanna see Persepolis so bad.

Best Documentary Feature

No End in Sight
Operation Homecoming: Writing the War Experience
Sicko
Taxi to the Darkside
War/Dance

None of these are called "The King of Kong". I rest my case.


Best Actor

Daniel Day-Lewis - There Will Be Blood
George Clooney - Michael Clayton
Viggo Mortensen - Eastern Promises
Johnny Depp - Sweeney Todd
Tommy Lee Jones - In the Valley of Elah

That's quite the all-star powerhouse line-up.  That's the Justice League of acting. John C. Reilly would have made for a fantastic wild card.


Best Score

Dario Marinelli - Atonement
Alberto Iglesias - The Kite Runner
James Newton Howard - Michael Clayton
Michael Giacchino - Ratatouille
Marco Beltrami - 3:10 to Yuma

No nom for Johnny Greenwood's score for There Will Be Blood, and here's why. Shame. It was fantastic, and seeing a member of Radiohead win an Oscar would have been cool.

Best Original Screenplay

Diablo Cody - Juno
Tony Gilroy - Michael Clayton
Tamra Jenkins - The Savages
Brad Bird - Ratatouille
Nancy Oliver - Lars and the Real Girl

None of those people are named "Judd" or "Seth and Evan," but Diablo Cody's nom (as many problems as I had with Juno's script is nice. The headlines will read something lame like "Stripper wins Oscar" when it should read "Ex-stripper wins Oscar."

Come to think of it, none of the adapted screenplay nominees are named "Neil and Roger" either. Those guys deserve something (besides money) for making sense of Beowulf.

Best Original Song

"Falling Slowly" - Once
"Happy Working Song" - Enchanted
"Raise It Up" - August Rush
"So Close" - Enchanted
"That's How You Know" - Enchanted

If "Falling Slowly" actually  wins, I just may shed a tear of joy. I like how there's also a nomination for August Rush, which looks like a poor man's Once (ironically, with a bigger budget). Oh, shit. I just realized: no Walk Hard nominations in this category. Wow.
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just to be the man to fall down at your door [Jan. 19th, 2008|05:33 pm]

After class on Friday, Chris Heck came over with a solid idea and we brainstormed a script for an Upstart Films Film Slam due on the 4th of February. The rule was pretty lame ("Make a short film called 'That's Not Funny'"), but Film Slams are the only way I can consistently work on shorts (see: Fall 2007, wherein I did not make a single short of my own, not counting Tybalt Be Trippen, which I feel does not accurately represent my abilities as an attempted filmmaker). We'll see if it gets done.

The brainstorming session resulted in much ribaldry as we were trying to come up with jokes for the script. This constant attempt at comedy carried on past the living room of my apartment all the way to dinner at the Top with Kat and Bryan (I'm sure we made a bad first impression), and later, hanging out in my apartment with the same people, plus JB and Amelia D.

In grade school, I had a crippling fear of authority and getting in trouble, coupled with the general shyness (all of which I'm sure still remain, albeit somewhat less than back then), so I stayed quiet all the time, so much that I was known for being "the quiet one." Occasionally when I'd get comfortable and maybe go too far, people would say "I liked you better when you didn't talk."

I guess what I'm saying is that I need to learn when to shut up.

Tried to go see There Will Be Blood with Raf and co., but the movie was surprisingly sold out and nothing else was starting at a decent time. So we did the next best thing: play Rock Band with Tyler Katz, which was a surprisingly decent time, and probably the reason for my throat being so sore today.

Playing with his new electric-acoustic guitar, he told us how he competed in the Rock Band competition on campus and how a somewhat superfluous Kevin's obnoxious stage presence (speaking of restraint) cost them the win. Of course, it being the year 2008, it has been immortalized in a video on Facebook. One only seed to watch 20 seconds or so of it. Considering the prize was a copy of Rock Band, Tyler was really only after glory.

Stayed up until 6am with Chris and Amelia for some reason. It was painful.

At some point in the night, Amelia took a sharpie and drew a somewhat misshapen cock on my neck. I didn't mind. Not that I enjoyed it, but I'm rather apathetic. I deserved it, for a miasma of reasons.
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[Jan. 17th, 2008|08:41 pm]
On the walk back home, it occurred to me that the previous entry may have been a bad idea--a drunken overreaction and an embarassing attempt at catharsis that's only been misinterpreted because of my ponderous lack of clarity. All it really seemed to do is make me look like a histrionic lunatic. That's a lot of adjectives.

Review for "Terminator: The Sarah Connor Chronicles" is online and in the paper today. Came out easier than my movie reviews. Next up is a review of "Aquateen" Season 5, which I don't know how to handle. I like Aquateen okay, but to write a review of it? We'll see.

This, of course, is leading to me writing erotica for The Independent Florida Alligator.





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Heartache/heartbreak [Jan. 17th, 2008|02:22 am]
I should have said hello to her.

I caught a glimpse at the restaurant, but I got scared for some reason. I guess I like her so much that my heart flutters when I see her and I hope she notices me, but she never does. I know she at least enjoys my company so a certain extent, but nobody sees anybody, especially those who so easily disappear into obscurity like I do. There, but not there. Should have made myself known. Be  a star instead of an extra.

Two opportunities to do so. I like her so much that she makes me nervous when our meetings aren't planned and I just run into her. Again with the fluttering. I play it off all cool, hoping she notices me, but she does not. If there's one thing I need, it's courage and daring.

At the club, I have a pretty enjoyable time with my friends, drinking and dancing and chatting. Coyly text messaging her as if that will accomplish anything. Then she appears with a group, boy with his arm around her at a booth. If alcohol is a depressant, I am well within the Earth's core, burning up with the pain of magma and fire and heartbreak. I talk to Chris to  stave off the pain, becoming annoyingly chatty when I drink.

I want to go up and say hi, but she looks busy with her friends. What good would I do when she's with this guy and I stand by the table and wave and try to hide the heart that's clearly breaking?

I order another drink.

At the bar, I talk to an old friend from my freshman, Robert, and we realize we've wasted a few years not talking to one another. Story of my life: time wasted when more productive, meaningful relationships could have flourished. We talk class and film for a while, which serves to distract from the problem at hand. Then again, we're probably both drunk (I know I am), so the conversation may mean nothing and may be completely forgotten tomorrow.

I turn to the dance floor, where she (I think it's her--the club is drunk and I'm dark and I feel lightning bolts of blackness crashing into my brain and my heart) dances with said boy, arm around her neck, by the last song. Still talking to Rob, but when he steps away I continue to wallow.

"You can't hurry love," says the song booming too loud for me to talk to other people. What if you've been waiting years and years and it's been a series of false starts and minor embarassments? What then? Of course, pop music has no real answers outside of defeating alien forces in Robotech. Throw me another platitude and see if I can make it work for my miserable life. My life is not a romantic comedy. My life is a self-indulgent indie flick that has no appeal to anyone outside of pseudo-intellectuals and those who laugh at the misfortunate.

It occurs to me that I'm a poor excuse for a man, undesirable by most people and those who do find me of any sort of use should probably check into therapy as soon as possible. Why advantage do I have on any other man who has ever existed? There are surely better specimens, capable of romance and conversation and wit and sex and companionship better than I. I'll have to settle for sad girls with so poor self esteem, they'd settle for nerdy, geeky, out-of-shape guys when they'd rather be with real men who are capable of satisfying a woman on multiple levels, which I am incapable of. I can barely satisfy myself, so why do I yearn for a woman so badly? It's like wasting a million dollars on some frivolity one cannot upkeep. Like a rocket car. Better off alone? At least only one person suffers.

Watched her and her friends leave as the house lights flashed and the DJ announced the end of the night. Sure she had a wonderful time. I did not.

Talked with Ruth, a friend from a previous class, for a little bit. Nothing substantial; just our one frame of reference we can relate to, being a film director we studied last semester and the DVDs I lent her. My friends left for breakfast, which I wasn't remotely interested in. I preferred being existential, introspective, and generally depressed/devastated/stupid.

So I walked home, sighing loudly to myself instead of partaking in further human interaction. Surprised a car didn't hit me out of sheer sympathy/drunken stupidity.

Naturally, it started to rain. Out loud, I cursed symbolism for making this moment possible, a forlorn outsider walking home in the rain. How appropriate. Whoever is responsible for this scene (God/Allah/Buddha/Zeus/Ra/Galactus/Superman/Godard/etc), I'm accusing him (or her) of sadism. No one should feel this rotten.

I read (or maybe heard from some overwrought heartbreak pop song) that when it's raining, no one can see you cry. I somehow manage to keep from crying. Don't ask me how.

After stripping down to my relatively dry underwear and toweling off, I began writing the self-indulgent, self-pitying, irritating internet journal post that I composed in my head as I walked home.

Of course, it did absolutely no help but advertise my feelings to whoever is bored enough to read. All I can hope now is that no peripheral character or casual reader asks me about it.

But what do I know? I'm drunk and depressed. There's really one thing I want that I cannot have. Who cares aside from me?
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The Return of Gatordude [Jan. 14th, 2008|10:58 am]

For those that don't remember (I have more conversations somewhere in past entries), Gatordude is a guy who IMs me via Yahoo Messenger and solicits me for sex.

And he's back!

Soon as I got online this morning:

[10:06] gatordude252000: hi
[10:08] gatordude252000: u there
[10:10] gatordude252000: ?
[10:10] discostevex: oh, hey
[10:10] gatordude252000: wuts up hottie
[10:11] discostevex: nothin'. you?
[10:11] gatordude252000: nothin sittin here naked
[10:11] discostevex: isn't it cold?
[10:11] gatordude252000: no
[10:12] discostevex: i dunno, it's 50 degress outside
[10:12] discostevex: i wouldn't want to be naked in 50 degree weather
[10:12] gatordude252000: not in my house
[10:12] discostevex: ah ,okay
[10:12] gatordude252000: well you can cum warm me up
[10:13] discostevex: you just said it wasn't cold
[10:13] discostevex: I'm not gonna go warm you up if it isn't cold
[10:13] discostevex: That's a waste of everyone's time
[10:13] gatordude252000: well just cum join me
[10:15] gatordude252000: ?
[10:15] discostevex: i dunno about this...
[10:15] gatordude252000: y
[10:16] discostevex: I got some serious chlamydia
[10:17] gatordude252000: we can wear condoms
[10:17] gatordude252000: cum on
[10:17] discostevex: i'm gonna need like seven.
[10:17] discostevex: At the same time.
[10:18] gatordude252000: ok i got em
[10:18] gatordude252000: i can just fuck if you want
[10:19] discostevex: Ah, so you put your wiggle-woggle into my poopy-cavern?
[10:19] gatordude252000: yea if you want
[10:20] discostevex: hmm
[10:20] discostevex: intriguing
[10:21] gatordude252000: do u deepthroat
[10:23] gatordude252000: ?
[10:23] discostevex: Have I been an informant about a big scandal? Nope.
[10:26] gatordude252000: lol
[10:28] discostevex: Well, I'm gonna wash my ass. Be back in a little bit (BBIALB)
[10:34] *** "gatordude252000" signed off at Mon Jan 14 10:34:18 2008.
I was hoping I'd come back from my shower and mess with him more (or get sex for free from a stranger on the internet), but alas.
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