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coup de tete OH, DIARY, ALSO - I had a dream about Tom Cruise. I HATE Tom Cruise. I had a dream I was at his wedding and my father-mother, who was a businessperson, was also at the wedding. We were seated towards the back but in different rows. The church, as you can imagine, was sparsely populated, because EVERYONE hates Tom Cruise. His terrible babyspawn might have also been in the dream; regardless, this afternoon I was in the bookstore and saw a real live magazine with a real live picture of said babyspawn and I'm still so grossed out by the entire sordid thing. ALSO, diary, I went to a French film tonight and it was TERRIBLE. It gave me a headache. C'est vrai, I am now much more fluent in French than I was four hours ago [(je suis fatiguee) (je ne sais pas) (le jardin du luxembourg) (sacre bleu)] it was a waste of time BECAUSE: it was about too many things, and mostly it was about stuff that I don't want to sit in a movie theater for two and a half freakin hours watching. This all strengthens my belief that I should only write stuff that's fun, I should not write serious stuff. Serious stuff is boring and I hate it. Okay? This movie was about way too much and I kept thinking "OH COME ON, just end, s'il vous plait". Like, it was about all of this: mental hospitals, drugs, cancer, suicide, incest? (implied), breaking up, lazy good-for-nothings, boobs, kids, death, memories, crying, visitations from the dearly departed, bastards, single mothers, French laws of inheritance and birthright, adoption, jerks, musicians, jealousy, servants, euthanasia, armed robbery, etc. There was a funny guy and the movie should have been only about him: insanity, tax evasion, stealing, sex, what? I don't know. It was a terrible movie and from now on I will write nothing serious. I'm feeling a bit better now, though, having gotten most of the French out of me with a glass of orange juice. But I still have mal de tete.
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