Watched “Last Days” last night. Forgot that it was a Van Sant film and was therefore pleasantly surprised. Was expecting (for some reason) more of a Nick Broomfield “there oughtta be a law” type abortion-of-a-film, but instead was treated to 10 minute long shots of a living room window with trees dropping leaves gently in the twilight, and a very funny scene involving two mormons named Elder Friberg talking to a bunch of shitty junkies who appear genuinely blown away that “you guys talk to Jesus, seriously?” And some nice kittens and a cool personal jam session and a whole lot of mumbling.
Conclusions to be drawn:
1. Kurt Cobain was apparently mentally disabled?
2. If you have junkie friends, you’re on your own, man.
3. Wait, you also are a junkie.
4. “that was not nearly long enough to cook macaroni and cheese.”
5. Harmony Korinne is very funny when he tells the story about how he played D&D with the Grateful Dead, and it turned out Jerry was like the most amazing Dungeonmaster
6. Gus Van Sant is an awesome filmmaker
What a deep dude! You guys seen Gerry? You got to see Gerry. Beautiful shit.
The whole thing was depressing for obvious reasons (Conclusion 7: For the last time, DON’T DO HEROIN) but I must hold forth and say that Van Sant has delivered another beautiful piece of art. Nobody makes films like his and frankly I don’t understand why not.
I suddenly realized that Gary had been slowly pilfering all of my hard-won raspberry schnapps, and by this point was quite drunk. We went to bed and I had a dream I was escaping from a “Gay Pride Compound” where everyone was trying to get me to have sex with everyone else, and where I overheard Gary talking about how he was “deeply unsatisfied” with our “lovemaking.” I tried to crawl out a window in the men’s bathroom but it was too high. Then I found a secret care package from my old roommate, Casey, that had six cigarettes in it. The note read, “smoke these!” and I started crying so hard I fell off a bed and landed on the floor, and then I saw there were a bunch of people under the bed staring at me.
My brother was hired to drive our movie star friend around for 3 days while shooting some film. He said some guy on set sent him to Whole Foods and instructed him to purchase “ten kombucha energy drinks; a pink-grapefruit scented candle; and a jar of applesauce–i don’t know the brand, but it’s the kind with the mountain man on the label.”
I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again: Hollyweird!
I have had $3.32 in my bank account for many days. My new money was just deposited into my account, but it will take up to 3 days to process. All I want is to go out to breakfast for pancakes, and yet that small pleasure is continually denied me by my lack of funds. I am depressed for a lot of reasons, one of them being that I am a shitty wastrel child to my parents, who loaned me $1,000 to pay my deposit in the summer and who I am unable to pay back in full. I finally budgeted it so I can pay them half, and then they said, “don’t worry about it right now.” This is great, because I won’t lie and tell you I don’t need the money super bad. But it also makes me feel bad to feel so glad. Then again, I feel my financial situation is possibly mildly misunderstood, for example when they advise me to put some money in the bank every month. When one is living on $40 a week, that is not necessarily the most plausible life plan. $18,000 is a lot of money, but when you live in LA and your rent for the year is $12,000, well, need I draw you a picture?
But I am nearly 30 years old. I should have saved up hundreds of thousands of dollars by this point. My cousin has tons of money. She works hard and is good at her job. What have I done since graduating? Temped for a whole lot of jerks. Nannied. Delivered newspapers two days a week. Driven an ice cream truck. Been a bicycle delivery girl. Done data entry for a company specializing in chemical animal testing. It’s not a pretty sight, my resume. I can tell you that.
To be 28 and to still be so broke when in my life I have been granted every privilege, every opportunity. What does it mean? However, I am disillusioned with the concept of money and private property, and I have always felt very strongly that quality of life is more important than size of paycheck. My quality of life is unbearable when I work 40 hours a week in an office. Therefore, size of paycheck must diminish when I quit to drive an ice cream truck, thereby giving myself ample time to write music, read books, go jogging, go on tour in Japan, write/film/produce/perform an opera, lay around on the couch thinking about sharks, and play in bands with my friends.
i have thought about this a lot over the past 10 years or so. What is quality of life? How does society judge quality of life as opposed to me, or my friends, or my family? We as a society value work and money. Work + Devoting your life to work = shitloads of money = you are a success.
I don’t believe that, and I also think that most of the shittiness of our country/world stems directly from those who DO believe that (poor and rich people both).
However, I WOULD like to have a lot of money without working for it. I would spend it on myself, but also on various humanitarian and environmental pursuits. Does this mean I am lazy? Or like, how can you want the money without valuing it? Valuing it spiritually, I mean. But I have no desire to actually do anything uncomfortable in order to attain it (wealth).
I am getting bored thinking about it.