Something Strange

I should mention that I've been exchanging e-mails with a lovely new lady on one of my dating sites these last few days. It's remarkable because we've each sent two messages, which, except for the boringest girl alive, is the furthest I've gotten since meeting the ex-wife. What's more is that I want things to keep going. Amazing, right? And this girl messaged me first. Crazy!

But she's cute. She's not morbidly obese. She's actually interesting. She's funny and seems to be pretty smart. She can write complete sentences. She converses. She's a few years older than me, which I think is way cool. Her name is Jennifer.

I think I like her. So far, anyway.

I feel really good right now.

Lots of Swearing

I'm feeling a little assholey today. Mostly towards my ex-wife, but others in my life are not helping anything.

You know what, ex-wife? You're not getting any more pictures of our son. Oh, sure, I'll tease you with small versions of them, but there's no way you're getting your hands on the full-size ones. Fuck you. I asked you months ago for one simple favor -- to burn off the pictures you had of him so I could archive them. I asked you on his behalf because I think it would be cool for him to have someday. The excuse you gave, preemptively, for not doing it? You're a slacker. Well, fuck you, slacker. You're going to be a slacker with none of my pictures of our little boy, and eventually, when your hard drive dies, no pictures at all. And all those moments with you and him together will be fucking lost with no hope of ever getting them back. And that is what he'll have to remember things by when he's all grown up. And that's what you'll deserve.

And now? You offered to e-mail me something I could use. Nothing big, but you said you'd do it. It would take you all of five minutes, at the very most, of your very "busy" day of unemployment to do it. But more than twenty-four hours later, after two polite reminders, still nothing. "Oh, I'm sorry!" you said, both times. "I'll do it right now!" Fuck you. Today, of all the shitty days in the world, you ask me to do something -- something that takes effort and going out of my way -- and I do it without complaint. It's like so many other times when I've gone out of my way to do things for you, to be nice to you. Time and time again, you thank me for doing these things, but then I ask you for a simple little favor, and you can't manage to do even that!

I'm sick of it. I try to be your friend, and sometimes you act like you want to be mine, but other times, you're a cold, uncaring, thoughtless bitch. And it's funny how the timing works, isn't it? When I do something for you, you're glad to have me in your life still. When I ask for something, well... it's not as convenient for you anymore, is it?

And of course, if I said any of this to you, you'd no doubt hold it over my head that you "give" me time with my son that you don't have to. Well, fuck you again. That's playing dirty, and you know it, but you don't care. Because you're selfish. You think only of yourself. You see only what you perceive yourself doing for others. You see only what you want.

I'm about to be done with it. You're never going to give me what I want anyway. Why should I bother trying to be nice to you anymore? I don't get anything at all back for it. In fact, you're probably going to take my son away from me, just because, you know, I'm such a nice person and everything.

Wouldn't want that kind of role model in your son's life, now would you?

Bright

Okay, yesterday morning was hell, and you can probably guess from the previous night's post what the reason would be for that. My head felt like it had been smashed in with a sledgehammer until around noon.

I dumped the remnants of my vodka down the sink in a fit of reason during the drunkest of my moments. I'd say I'm done drinking, but I've said that before.

I'm not determined to stop, but it's also not currently a big deal.

* * *

I must have done something right recently, because once I got home from work, my day got pretty good. I had a productive conversation with my ex-wife, got to see my son's smiling face, got a food processor, and was e-mailed by no fewer than three women on my dating sites. Three women that I'm not very attracted to, but... I can't complain too much.

It's hope.

Really, I dread having to log on and read the messages and then reply. Especially the reply part. It's something I'm not sure I should even do, but it doesn't feel right NOT to. As much as it sucks to hear someone say that they're not interested, at least I can move on afterwards. When I don't hear anything back, I get rather pissy and the torture just lasts even longer. Is she not replying because she's not interested, or is she just busy?

So, I'm going to reply. I guess.

Fuck this shit sometimes.

It makes me wonder if my standards are too high. And wondering that makes me thereafter wonder if that's even possible. I'm great-big not-attracted to these ladies. Why settle for less than really wonderful when relationships are so much work?

I have all the patience in the world right now.

I'm just worried that maybe I'm missing out on getting to know some great people just because they aren't pretty enough. But the more logical parts of my brain are telling me that I'm right to just keep waiting, even in spite of all the "looks fade, personality doesn't" hullabaloo that I've come to understand over the years.

Anyway...

* * *

I started a painting last night. It seems a bad time to start it, though. First of all, I ran out of fucking white paint. Second, I was going for a gray-and-gloomy look, but I'm not feeling gray and gloomy right now for some unknown reason. I feel almost sky blue, in fact.

I don't know if I'll ever finish a painting. Maybe I'm just not a painting kind of guy.

* * *

I wish that one girl hadn't been so damn boring. She really was pretty cute.

* * *

I'm kicking butt and taking names at losing weight so far. I mean, really, it seems like so little in a way, but considering how much work and dedication it's taken to get this far, it's awesome to be able to see results.

I'm down five pounds in the last three weeks or so.

It's encouraging because it seems like the weight you take off slowly is weight that's easier to keep off.

I've been running and walking on a regular, scheduled basis, and I've been eating like a reasonable person instead of pigging out for almost every meal of the day. I'm also doing crunches at night to try and build some abs. I've always wanted abs. :)

I want some good running shoes, but the stupid running store nearby is not open at any time that's convenient to me. I refuse to buy anything before I go there, though, because it's the only place in the city where they'll watch you run to determine what kind of shoes you need. I'm sure I'll end up paying more there, but I am fairly certain that it will be worth it.

Untitled #1

Hey, look! It's my first drunk blog post. I'm sure it's going to be the most eloquent thing ever to appear on the Internet, so...

* * *

I saw the most amazing-looking woman at Wal-Mart this evening. Definitely the most attractive female I've come across in quite some time. Maybe since I first moved here.

She had blue eyes that could burn through anything that she directed her gaze towards. They sure as hell burned through me pretty well. She smiled at me and it broke me heart because I'll probably never see her again.

I don't want to do this anymore.

* * *

I want to go home. Wherever that may be.

* * *

Breaking Bad is my new happiness show. How have I not heard of this yet?

Good stuff.

* * *

I'm not used to being concise. Maybe I should post like this all the time.

Maybe This Is What You're Looking For...

I'm a normal person who does normal the things that normal people do. I like to hang out and watch TV. I might be an alcoholic and I have no control of anything that happens in my life. I like the outdoors because it's the only way to get away from work and responsibility. I'm a lot of fun.

I'm very interested in sex, but I try to hide it because I'm afraid that everyone will think I'm promiscuous. Really, I'm just human, though, and you're just frigid.

I work at a dead-end job and live week-to-week, paycheck-to-paycheck. My car's a piece of shit, and I don't care.

Those pictures of me? They were taken twenty pounds ago. I tried not to gain weight, but I'm depressed and can't stop stuffing my face with junk food. I haven't exercised since high school. I'll be dead of heart disease before I'm 50.

I have no original thoughts, which scares me, because it seems like everyone else does.

I dress like a giant slob because, well, what's the point, really?

I say that I like movies, but what I mean is that I like jokes about poop, people getting punched in the groin, and naked breasts. I also say that I like music, but what I mean is that I want to hear folks singing in a rather generic way about life's issues that I -- along with everyone else -- can relate to. The radio in my piece-of-shit car hasn't changed stations since I stumbled by luck into setting it to my favorite fifteen minutes after buying the damn thing.

I will secretly think that things won't last from the very moment we first make contact. This will last until one of us dies or you decide to leave me. Once we've been together for a while, I'll feel guilty a lot about checking other women out, but I'll do it anyone because I'm bored with you. When you make me angry, I'll consider smacking you around a bit because I'm a fucking monkey deep down inside.

My home is full of pizza boxes and beer cans and dirty dishes and laundry. There's a pair of boxer shorts hanging from the ceiling fan in my bedroom. They've been there for a year and a half. That was the last time I had a date. If you're lucky, I'll clean up right before the first time you come over so you won't know what it is that you're getting yourself into.

I have no useful skills to speak of. I'm not creative. I'm unloving and unaffectionate. I expect a lot more from you than is reasonable, and will give only as much as I have to. Less if I can pull it off.

What I'd really like is someone who won't bitch at me for farting and who really likes to have sex. You should anticipate putting both traits to use simultaneously at times.

You'll know right away when we meet that I'm an asshole. I'll convince you that it's actually charming.

I'm always fucking right.

And I don't believe in love.

* * *

I'm just pissed that my creative profiles don't seem to catch the attention of many. Maybe one like this would.

I'm in a pissy mood. Sorry.

There's Always a Never Again

That fucking movie. I am suffering from a severe lack of productivity thanks to Charlie Kaufman and his goddamn wonderful obscurity. And I might as well just change the name of my blog to "The Synecdoche, New York Blog: All Synecdoche, All the Time." It's now 60% about that movie in terms of number of posts, and even higher in terms of word count. Oh well.

I didn't have time to watch the full movie again last night, but I did get through the first fifteen minutes again right before I went to bed. I might have been a little sloshed, too; it appears that I'm driving a burning car (as I can't seem to escape referencing Synecdoche, New York) and my sorrows needed a little drowning. My parents bought this car for me about a year ago, trying to replace a car that I didn't feel any need or desire to have replaced. Now, the electrical system is going out in this new one, and once it degrades to the point where repairs are necessary, it will set me back about $3000. Thanks, Mom and Dad!

And it sucks because I know they meant well, but at the same time, fuck them for not listening to me.

Anyway, I'll just let the fire burn for a while until, ya know, I probably die from smoke inhalation or something.

To add to the unending suckitude of yesterday, Amazon has decided to ship my Synecdoche shooting script with the requirement of a signature upon delivery. I'm never home when UPS comes by, so... I have not yet received it. And I might just let it get sent back, since I may be even more broke in the near future and can stand to spare every penny that I possibly am able to.

I did read through an early draft of the script, though, and I'm increasingly convinced that the connection between Caden and Ellen is a vital part of the film. Moreover, I am almost certain that they are meant to be the same person. I was tempted to discard as symbolic this blurb:

You are Ellen. All her meager sadnesses are yours; all her loneliness; the gray, straw-like hair; her red raw hands. It's yours. It is time for you to understand this.

However, I think maybe this is one of the keys to understanding the movie (if it is possible to do so).

I considered the scenes where alternately Caden and Ellen are at the door to Adele's apartment, with the old lady asking each time if he/she is Ellen. It is to be assumed, I think, that Ellen is the person who cleans Adele's apartment.

Why would the old lady not recognize that Caden, clearly not a woman, would almost certainly not be named "Ellen?" It's not as though it's anything close to a gender-neutral name.

But what if Caden is Ellen?

What I didn't catch until I read the July 2007 script (PDF) (which much of my thoughts in this post will come from) is that this isn't the first instance of Caden/Ellen name confusion. Here's part of the scene in which Caden calls Adele in Germany:

ADELE (PHONE VOICE)
Hello? Hello? Who is this?

CADEN
It's Caden!

ADELE (PHONE VOICE)
Ellen?

CADEN
Caden! I can't wait to see you and
Olive on the 12th. um... I went
someplace without you tonight, Ad.
I went some place you couldn't come
with me. I'm sorry.

ADELE (PHONE VOICE)
What? Who is this? Oh, I have to
go. There's a party. I'm famous!

I arrived at an important question: Was Caden actually married to Adele? Again, what if Caden really is Ellen?

While Caden is having a seizure:

OPERATOR (PHONE VOICE)
911. What's the problem, ma'am?

CADEN
I'm sick.

OPERATOR (PHONE VOICE)
We're out of ambulances, miss, but
we'll send a taxi. Please wait in
front of your house, miss.

I thought this was meant to just be humorous while I was watching the movie; I mean, I have a pretty obviously masculine voice, and even I have been called "ma'am" by some apparently deaf person on the phone before. It seemed like just another one of those glorious Kaufman odd-but-real life moments.

But maybe it's more than that.

Something that didn't make it into the final version of the film (unless I just didn't catch it):

INT. 31Y WALK-IN CLOSET (INT. WAREHOUSE SET) - 2050 - MORNING

Caden lies on his back, and opens his eyes. His pumps drone.

CADEN
(quietly, mournfully)
Eric.

Caden looks over. No note from Adele. He gets out of bed,
glances in the mirror, seems surprised by his reflection.

(Emphasis mine.)

And after communicating with whoever is actually cleaning her apartment as "Ellen," the following takes place:

INT. 31Y WALK-IN CLOSET - 2029 - NIGHT 146
Caden sees an unmade cot in the corner and a few cardboard
boxes marked "Stuff for Olive." The "Olive" is crossed out
and replaced with "Caden."

147 INT. 31Y WALK-IN CLOSET - 2029 - LATER 147
The boxes are empty as Caden finishes making the bed. The
room is decorated in a girly manner. Pink bedspread. Girly
lamps and furniture. Girly prints on the walls.

There's lots of evidence woven into the film, and even more cut out of the final product. But it's still not easy to make sense of it. This duality seems to indicate confusion about gender identity and sexual orientation in Caden or Ellen or whoever the subject of the movie actually is. I think a lot of us can relate to that, even if only a little, and this very well exemplifies that when we are looking at these parts of ourselves, there is no one of them that is the single "real" us; they are inseparable, one and the same.

With respect to the narrative, though, it's difficult to make sense of. Maybe it's impossible, in fact, and intentionally so. The foremost question is who it is that the real world sees at any given time. Was the main character Caden first and then became Ellen? Or vice versa? Or was it always just one of them?

I wondered if Ellen came first and was just living under the delusion that she was married to Adele when, in fact, she was just the housekeeper. Or perhaps Adele's lesbian lover.

I don't know if it was just my own mind, perpetually in the gutter, that felt some sort of static in the air when Maria first appeared with Adele, but I definitely felt it. Is it there? Caden certainly seems suspicious of them in that scene. Maybe it's just because they're intoxicated and he assumes that his being "bothered" while high is a universal phenomenon. But we find out later that Maria and Olive end up becoming lovers, so Maria is definitely inclined towards homosexuality. She's also quite obviously very close to Adele. It's easy to wonder just how far that closeness goes.

And then there's "Women I Love," Adele's collection of tiny paintings of naked ladies. Are they naked because "love" is meant sexually, or is the nudity more innocent or symbolic than that? Olive is among the subjects of these paintings, so I'd guess that the word is used broadly to cover friendship, motherly love, love of self... but perhaps also sexual love. ("The whole 'romantic love' thing is just projection. Right?")

Going on a momentary tangent, I also am compelled to ask, why are the paintings so small? You need magnifying lenses to even see them at all. This is another one of those things that I thought was just typical bizarre Kaufman humor, but it's not a stretch to say there's some obvious symbolism in it as well.

So, anyway, one of the paintings is of Ellen. Here's the description of the scene wherein Caden looks at the painting from the early screenplay:

He comes to a wall titled: "Women I Love." He sees
a self-portrait of Adele, a portrait of Maria, a portrait of
Olive, naked and covered in tattoos. Then he comes to a
portrait entitled "Ellen Bascomb." He steps back for a
second, unable to look. The people behind him are impatient.
Finally he flips the glasses and studies the painting. Ellen
appears to be a chubby, 40 year old white woman, her mousy
brown hair tied back in a kerchief. She is naked and
spreading her vulva for the viewer. She has a kind face and
what appears to be an appendectomy scar.

(Emphasis mine again.)

Earlier, while pondering over this movie, I wondered if maybe Caden saw this painting, noticed similarities between the subject and himself, and then used that image to conceive the Ellen of his theater. But this description would seem to say that he already knew it was himself (/herself/whatever).

Note the age attributed to Ellen. I will mention now that the age given for Caden in the first scene of the film is 40.

So, does this mean that Ellen's is the face that the world sees? And if so, does this remain true for her/his/their/its entire life? Does Ellen get a sex change and become "Caden?"

Then why, when talking with Tammy before they "fuck," does he say that he thinks he might have been better at being a woman? Is he only voicing regret? Or simple confusion? Or is all of this meaningless to unlocking an underlying narrative?

Olive refers to Caden as "Daddy" a number of times, Adele refers to him as "Dad" at least once (in the car, during the plumber conversation), and as "Caden" several times at the beginning of the film. And although I take most of Olive's diary entries as figments of Caden's imagination, one entry expresses how much better her other daddies are than drunk, smelly, rotten-toothed Caden ever was.

(Adele's two husbands also provide a gentle shove against the innuendo suggesting her lesbianism, though they certainly don't preclude her bisexuality (or even homosexuality) from being a possibility.)

Hazel never calls him anything but "Caden" that I am aware of. Nor does Claire.

Charlie Kaufman has already given us one movie (I speak of Adaptation) in which, during the process of trying to interpret it, we, the audience, are forced to ask questions about things beyond both form and content -- about the very process of the creation of the story itself. Synecdoche does not beat us quite so squarely over the head with this requirement. Adaptation was effectually about the screenplay itself; in contrast, while Synecdoche contains a lot of contemplation of the process of creation, storytelling, etc., it is first and foremost a raw and visceral attempt to make us feel something. To oversimplify and probably sound like an ass: Adaptation is about creating a story's life, whereas Synecdoche is about creating a life's story.

So, how the screenplay is made is less important in this case, but we are still led there. Is there a story being told here, in however a nontraditional way? Or is Kaufman working purely in images, sounds, and symbols to try to make us feel the emotions that he set out to stir up in the audience?

Maybe he just sat down and wrote, thinking about the things he wanted to say and just stringing scene after scene to say those things. Maybe he was speaking in universal terms, speaking of life and the conclusions that he has formed about it, unconcerned with the specifics of any given person or type of person or sequence of events. "The specifics hardly matter. Everyone's everyone." In which case, all of this searching and thinking was in vain, and I have missed the point.

Or maybe he had a specific story in mind as he wrote. Maybe as he went along, he asked himself how he could cast the events of our protagonist's life through a prism of perception so we could come closer to understanding the inner workings of that person's mind as he or she experienced various events. If this is the path he took, we could maybe figure out what is actually happening (as though it matters). Unless Kaufman decided that life is incomprehensible and confusing and can't be figured out, and he decided that the specifics should be muddled and blurred... in which case, my struggle to make sense of the mess of this film reflects the pointless struggles of the film itself.

With all that being said, is it built into the script that we will never find the answers?

I'd say that these are the most likely scenarios that we could use to explain the Caden/Ellen duality:

1. The world always sees Caden, and Ellen is a strictly internal representation of his sexual/gender conflict.
2. The world always sees Ellen, and Caden is a strictly internal representation of her sexual/gender conflict.
3. The world sees Ellen at first (i.e., the main character was born Ellen) and then she changes her sex outwardly (perhaps surgically and permanently, perhaps not).
4. The inverse of scenario #3.

There are problems with each of these, though, if you're looking for consistent evidence against all doubt.

The painting of Ellen kills off scenario #1 (for me, at least).

Caden being distressed at his reflection near the end of the July '07 script may break #2. Of course, at this point, he is playing the role of Ellen, so maybe that's the cause for his surprise. Or maybe it's just surprise at his age or state of unhealth. I'm not sure what Kaufman's intentions were with that scene.

But does it make sense that Ellen would only show up in her own psyche towards the end of her life? Even if she'd allowed the Caden part of her to step up to the forefront of her personality or what have you, why would she just suddenly be "cast" so suddenly so late in the show?

Also, Caden is definitely a father figure in Olive's life. Maybe all the instances of her and others referring to him as a father are merely being filtered through Ellen's perceptions. It seems unlikely, though.

#3 seems most likely to me, thought it's not without problems. The surprise at the reflection works against this one, too, although it doesn't quite deal a fatal blow.

But how could "Caden," anatomically a woman, produce a child with Claire? Could this give meaning to his "real daughter" comment? There's so much that's not shown that it's difficult to tell if the gaps are just omissions of obvious, mundane details, or places where (fuck you, Charlie) it would make it too easy to figure out what the hell is going on?

And Olive also could not really be his daughter. Not a problem with the scenario, really, just an observation.

What would pose a problem is Caden's confession to dying Olive concerning his abandoning her to have a homosexual affair (and more specifically, anal sex) with Eric. To repeat my thoughts from a prior post, we may have reason to doubt that this confession is a sincere one anyway. I mean, Adele took off to Germany with her. We have a few holes in time, once again, to obscure what may or may have happened afterwards, though.

I think it's very interesting that we never actually see any part of the process of divorce from Adele. But that could work in the favor of several different possibilities.

Regardless, it wouldn't make sense for Adele to start off calling the main character Caden and then to call him/her Ellen later on. Would it?

I hate it that these inconsistencies come up, because it seems so perfect in so many ways. If I can form some sort of apologetics to make these issues go away, this would appear to be a great jumping off point for unraveling the rest of the chaos of this film. It clearly explains the overt menstruation references, and the picnic dream, and the disappointment at never having had a child while simultaneously mourning the loss of a child, and probably a whole lot of other stuff.

Bah. Oh well. Moving on, and finally...

Scenario #4 seems unlikely to me because of the dream with Ellen and her mother and, again, Tammy's questioning whether Caden wishes he were a woman. (Really, I guess that's a problem with #3 as well.)

Of course, this all might be a million miles off from whatever actual explanation there may be. This is likely all meant to be taken figuratively. We've still got "you are Adele, Hazel, Claire, Olive" to contend with, so... All I can do is try to make some logical guess.

In parting, for your consideration, here's the song from the beginning of the movie that Olive sings:

There's a place I long to be
A certain town that's dear to me
Home to Mohawks and G.E.
It's called Schenectady

I was born there and I'll die there
My first home I hope to buy there
Have a kid or at least try there
Sweet Schenectady

And when I'm buried and when I'm dead
Upstate worms will eat my hand
For every person that you know
Once you say, think you've seen...
You won't see them again

There's always a last time
That you see everyone
There's always a never again

Schenectady

I watched Synecdoche, New York again last night, and I now understand more of the layering and role-switching that takes place at the end of the movie. I still do not understand the full content of the film, though. Really, I'm sort of lost even as to what direction it goes in and what the underlying structure is.

Some of what I said yesterday doesn't feel exactly right anymore, and much of it seems as though it was never meant to be quite as mysterious as it was to me upon first viewing. Then again, I've never been very good at all at these puzzle-type movies. And in a way, I'm worried that Synecdoche is a puzzle that was never meant to be solved. I don't know. But I'm going to try to figure it out, nonetheless.

I'm being forced to increasingly question whether or not anything we see in the film can be taken literally. My strong first impression was that it couldn't, that everything on the screen was being filtered through the lens of someone's mind -- probably Caden's.

Last night, when the end credits started, I flipped back a few chapters and watched the last few scenes again. I can follow everything pretty well until Caden says that he's out of ideas and that he's dead (I think it's "dead" and not "done." I'll have to check the script when it arrives this evening). He takes the part of Ellen, and then everything swiftly breaks down. I can take nothing out of these final scenes but confusion.

The problems are made clear for me by one short scene in particular: The voice in Caden's ear tells him to pick up a note from Adele, which turns out not to be from Adele at all. A male voiceover reading the note informs us that Adele has died. Caden looks at a set of picture frames next to him, which contain pictures of 1) his daughter, 2) Adele, with some other person cut mostly out, 3) Hazel, 4) an old man (I think his father), and 5) an old woman (I think his mother).

Is he still playing as Ellen in that scene? It wouldn't make much sense unless these five people were part of Ellen's life instead of his own. Which I can't discount as a possibility, because I really am confused.

We see Ellen, who is still playing the part of Caden, in bed with Eric, and in the kitchen with him, speaking to him. ("Everything is everything.") Is this supposed to mean that Caden really did have an affair with a man? I got the sense at first that his admission to Olive on her deathbed was not sincere, that he was merely seeking forgiveness so that peace could be made between them in the seconds before she passed away.

I noticed one of Caden's notes this time around, though, and it seems that his suppressed homosexuality may be more of an issue than I'd realized. Scrawled in his near-illegible hand was (if I'm not mistaken) "I think I might be gay." We also hear some things from Caden that suggest that he feels effeminate, or that he's had some internal struggle over whether or not he should have been a woman. They're not pervasive, which led me to believe that they were merely ponderous thoughts. But they are there and given the shifts that take place at the end of the movie, I have to try to examine their importance.

I have a vague notion that this doubt about his sexuality and gender may be manifesting itself in the story in the form of the various actors and roles that revolve around Caden, though it still doesn't add up to something that makes sense to me.

Of course, if one of the big issues in the movie -- or Caden's life -- is that he is, in fact, gay, I think the most important word I've used in the last few paragraphs is "suppressed." Caden lives in a world full of women. He interacts with them, almost exclusively, it seems. Just look at the top acting credits and this becomes very evident. We hear mention of Eric once, and see him three times, all in adjacent shots, and it's not Caden who is with him; it's Ellen, playing (as far as I can tell) the part of Caden.

Ellen says that she feels she somehow disappointed him, and we see Adele and hear her saying that people always disappoint you after you know them for a while. Does this imply that Caden and Eric have been together for a while?

I really do not know.

On the other side of this role-swap, you've got Caden taking instructions from Ellen on how to be her and how to feel the things she feels. At one point, she expresses regret that she never had kids. She relates a memory of her and her mother (if I understand correctly) where she's making a promise that she'll one day take her own daughter on a picnic just like the one they were having. She is greatly saddened by having failed to make this dream come true.

As Caden, she then cries and asks out loud where her (his) daughter is. It's very poignant, but confusing. The trick here, I believe is trying to separate the things she is saying to Caden through the earpiece and the things she is saying as Caden. It's so blurred together, it becomes even more difficult to reject the suggestion that they are somehow two sides of the same person.

If that is the case, then that would lead me to the conclusion that Sammy is yet another splinter of Caden's psyche.

Strange, isn't it, how the only people we ever see Caden taking auditions for are the two who want to play the part of Caden himself?

It would make other things in the movie make sense. For instance, all the times we see Sammy watching Caden, and the way Sammy appears to know everything about Caden, including his thoughts.

If I had to hazard a rough guess as to how everything would come together in this setup, I would say that Sammy would be some part of Caden's mind that he created to make himself more likeable. He is an act that he puts on, the part of himself that he decides to show to the world after he comes to the conclusion that his life will never be what he wants it to be if he lets his real self show through.

Sammy is the fun part, the joyous part, maybe also the sexual part.

This may be why Hazel seems to fall for Sammy, and then shifts her affections to Caden. She even states that she only wanted Sammy so she could get to Caden. She fell in love with the facade because it was easier to do, but ultimately, she realizes that it truly is the person inside him that she loves.

There are extra layers that would seem to complicate this line of thought; what about the man who plays Sammy? And what about Tammy's simulation of Hazel? Perhaps the latter could be a result of the unavoidable discovery that Hazel, just like everyone else, is more than she seems to be at first.

If Sammy is the outward persona, I'd guess that Ellen is the less socially acceptable parts of his sexual identity. That's why we only see her with Eric. And that's also why she does not become recognized until the end of the film. She has been repressed or suppressed -- who can say which -- but as Caden nears death, he allows himself to see her.

But again, this explanation is not without comlications. What do we then make of the dream with Ellen and her mother? Why does she lament over never having had a child if she is a part of Caden, who has two daughters? I'm left totally unsure about how much validity this theory may have.

What I'm worried about is that there is no way to put fit all the pieces of the puzzle together. More specifically, I can't completely remove the idea from my mind that perhaps the whole movie -- or most of it, at least -- is some dying dream. Life flashing before his eyes. Maybe a dying man is merely trying to make sense of his life in whatever way he can. That would disappoint me in many ways; it's too David-Lynch for my taste. Charlie Kaufman, I believe, is beyond that. I want to have hope that there's a key to all of this somewhere, but that I just haven't found it yet.

All of the playing with time that goes on seems to be the means to its own ends, but one observation has me wondering if there might be a clue in them somewhere; Caden wakes up at 7:45 at the beginning of the movie, and before he dies at the end, he sees a clock spraypainted onto a wall with the hands indicating 7:45 as well.

Hazel says that the end is built into the beginning. I don't know what to make of this connection, but it must mean something, right?

I just came across an interview with Charlie Kaufman wherein he says that the film is not a dream. This leaves me hopeful, but saying that it's not a dream isn't exclusive enough for me to understand what the movie is or is not.

Anyway, I'm not going to go quite to the same lengths in writing today as I did yesterday. I'm still considering a lot of things and should probably take some time to let my thoughts percolate a bit before putting them down in writing. (Maybe I should have thought of that before writing all of this bullshit, no?)

I'll close with a lovely list of random ideas, observations, and questions that have popped up in my head:

1. So many scenes fly by so quickly that I basically missed them the first time I watched. I'm sure there were things I missed the second time as well. One such scene: Caden uses his cane to push up a flap on a "Map to Warehouse #2" lying on the ground. Under the flap is a smaller "Map to Warehouse #2" with a flap in the same relative location. When he pushes up that flap, there is (we must assume, since it's too small to really make out the details) an even smaller copy of the map. Like a tunnel of mirrors.
2. What the hell is with Caden's father randomly walking into the room and saying, "Hey, kiddos," when (I think) Caden and Adele are discussing her going to Germany in the kitchen?
3. The house is on fire and it still makes me laugh, but I still haven't decided what it is I believe it's intended to mean.
4. The titles he chooses for his play are 1) Simulacrum, 2) Flawed Light of Love and Grief, 3) Unknown, Unkissed, and Lost, 4) The Obscure Moon Lighting an Obscure World, and 5) Infectious Diseases in Cattle
5. At the movie's end, Caden (as Ellen) mentions that the buildings in the "theater" are full of other people's dreams and memories, and that he would never know them. Strange, vague idea: What if the buildings are people, or perhaps representations of their lives? Recall the scene wherein Caden orders one building set to be walled up, that set being the one with Claire flirting with another actor. He's done being a part of her life, so... the walls get built. And what would that mean for Hazel's burning home?
6. Who is the person who is partially cut out of the picture of Adele that Caden looks at when he finds out that she died?
7. Does Caden really marry Claire? I don't have a lot of reasons to question this, but my gut tells me maybe I should.
8. Why is Caden so distant from Ariel? Why does he act like Olive is basically the only real daughter he has?
9. Of what significance is Sammy's suicide?
10. Why are there paintings of Ellen in Adele's collection?
11. What is with the cow and sheep cartoons?
12. Of what significance is cleaning?

I'm going to be digging through the shooting script this evening, and a set of earlier scripts I found. Maybe I'll find some clues there.

Synecdoche

I can't believe how very affecting Synecdoche, New York was. It is almost certainly the best movie I've seen since Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind. I feel certain that I can safely say that I will see anything that Charlie Kaufman ever writes, and will almost definitely love it.

I've only watched it once so far, but I'm going to buy the DVD today and I'll be watching it for many years to come. (Or will I?) Some things are fuzzy in my memory, and I'm sure I don't understand all of it yet, but I'd just like to write some things about it with the somewhat vague impressions I'm left with, mostly because I figure Charlie would respect that.

With every movie I watch that his mind was responsible for, I feel more and more connected with him, like we are very much alike in many ways. Not in terms of talent, of course, but rather in how we think about the world. I've seen a lot of comments in the light research I've done since watching this movie where others felt that this movie was written TO them, or FOR them. Without a doubt, I completely understand what they mean.

I'm a shy person. I could probably be diagnosed with Avoidant Personality Disorder if I thought it would do any good, but a label does nothing but put you neatly into a group so that assumptions can be made about you and you can feel better about all the horrible things you do to ruin your life.

Women are enigmas to me, and I long for love and connection with them. But at the same time, on some level, by experience and by reason, I know that my life will always be full of problems because of them, whether it's because I cannot attain connection with them or because the connection that I have with them is flawed. And I'm always waiting -- "for a phone call or a letter or a look from someone or something to make it all right."

I don't know that I really like myself, and I'm sure that, even if I do, I'll always be unsure of myself.

It's hard for me to relate with others. I love people, but they scare me. All of them.

I'm a sad kind of person, generally, even though I think people are beautiful -- that the world is beautiful. I love life, even as it breaks my heart.

These are some of the things I've seen in Charlie Kaufman's "protagonists." Joel in Eternal Sunshine, "Charlie" in Adaptation, a few people in Being John Malkovich -- I identified with them all more than any other fictional characters that I can recall. At times, I even saw myself in Chuck Barris, oddly enough.

If Charlie Kaufman is not a lot like me, he sure as hell is good at writing characters who I can REALLY connect with, which is something that few screenwriters have been able to accomplish.

This movie succeeds again in that respect, I think. Maybe it's just because Caden is such a lonely mess. I'd have to watch it again to say for sure what it is that makes me empathize with him so much. Really, though, I think he was meant to be relatable to most people.

Since it is a glaring, important symbol, I'd like to address his name first: Caden Cotard.

First off, Caden's surname is undoubtedly of significance. The Cotard delusion is a condition in which a sufferer believes that he or she is dead. Some people think that this choice for a last name is meant to tell us that Caden is, in fact, afflicted with this delusion.

That seems too simple to me, though. It doesn't make sense to apply this to the film as a whole. First of all, there are too many motivations that seem to be driving Caden for me to accept that he simply believes he is dead. He has wishes and goals and behaves as though he believes he is alive on a literal level, although it is definitely not a stretch to say that he may FEEL that he is not. And I think that's the point. Nothing in the movie seems to be literal at all. It's symbols and metaphors, through and through. He's not dead, and he knows it, but he might as well be. The life that he's living is troubled and not at all what he wants. He tries to create a show, tries for all his life to do something that might make some meaningful impression on the world. He tries to figure it all out, get his shit together, direct people to say and do the right things so that his "play" will be something special, so that he can finally have an audience who appreciates his life as something more than what is seen. But he has no real control over the "actors," so things never do come together, and in the end, it makes no difference whether or not he ever existed at all.

Certainly a depressing picture to paint, but Kaufman has never shied away from pointing things like this out. And how many of us have felt this way? I think most people want to know that they'll be missed when they're gone, that they'll be remembered long after death. Even those who have resigned themselves, for one reason or another, to the conclusion that they will fade from the world as though they were never here usually want to make sure that certain loose ends are tied up -- peace is made with folks, loved ones are taken care of, and so on. We struggle to make these things happen, even though it won't matter to us one way or another once we actually die.

All this leads me to believe Kaufman chose "Caden" as a first name with knowledge of its etymology. I can't be sure, of course, but it makes sense to me. It apparently means "spirit of battle" or "little fighter." If what we do is meaningless in the end, why do so many of us struggle so much to bring meaning to our lives? Why bother at all? Why not just jump off a tall building and be done with it?

Caden, I believe, is supposed to be any one of us. A normal person in a normal life. And he's a little fighter in a BIG fight. Perhaps one we have no hope of winning.

On the other hand, I could just as easily accept that his first name was selected for ironic purposes. In certain respects, Caden does not fight; he accepts everything that happens to him, quite in spite of him having a role as a director. I can't think of a single time in the movie where he really takes control of any situation. (Again, I've only seen it once.) He may try occasionally, but when he fails, he pulls away.

Staying on the subject of names, I haven't seen many evaluations (disclaimer: which obviously doesn't mean there aren't any; I just haven't looked very hard yet) of the movie's title that went beyond "'synecdoche' sounds like 'Schenectady'," which, ya know, is true, but to attribute Kaufman choosing that name to a simple play on words is pretty lazy. I mean, in the film itself, the main character makes a big fuss over titles. It's clear to me that this was a perfect, well-thought-out choice that deserves some investigation.

"Synecdoche" is a new word for me, as it probably was for most people, so I had to look it up before the movie was even released. It sorta has a rather flexible definition and refers more to a type of figurative expression than any specific one.

Basically, anything where the name of a part of something and that something's whole, or a specific subset of something and a more general category to which it belongs, are used interchangeably is a synecdoche. The previous link has lots of examples, which I won't repeat here.

My first thought on learning this, though, is that the title actually is referring to New York City, rather than Schenectady. This makes sense even more in the context of this (beautiful) quote:

There are nearly thirteen million people in the world. None of those people is an extra. They're all the leads of their own stories. They have to be given their due.

The population of NYC is approximately thirteen million. That's the only way I can come up with to make sense of that line. (And really, what's it matter what the setting is? "Everyone is everyone.") And when you put those puzzle pieces together, you get a wonderful string of connections: "the world" is equated to NYC -- a synecdoche; the title basically can be interpreted as referring to "New York, New York," wherein the same word denotes both part and larger, enveloping whole -- maybe not exactly a synecdoche, but something close; and Caden's theater, its own little world, built to represent NYC and, by extension, the world.

There are even more layers to it as well. To summarize the themes of the movie, it could be said that it is about "everything," and Caden attributes the same description to his unfinished play. It's about dating and love and life and so many other things... but it's not really everything. When he says that word, you know what he means, even though no movie or play can ever really be about EVERYTHING. But as humans, the stars of our own shows, we often think of "life" and "everything" as interchangeable terms.

Life is not everything, though. Nor is the world. We feel like it is, and we want to believe that it is, but we are really all alone and such a small part of the universe. In the minister's eulogy monologue, my absolute favorite moment in the film, he says:

Even though the world goes on for eons and eons, you are here for a fraction of a fraction of a second. Most of your time is spent being dead or not yet born.

Millicent Weems, directing Caden through an earpiece, breaks the news to him:

Now it is waiting and nobody cares. And when your wait is over this room will still exist and it will continue to hold shoes and dress and boxes and maybe someday another waiting person. And maybe not. The room doesn't care either.

We are everything to ourselves and to no one else. Ever. No exceptions.

We're short-sighted in that way. We watch this movie about a man's life -- compressed down to two hours. We feel we know this man, having seen only this small chunk of what a full life is. Were he real, we might make the mistake of believing the film somehow IS him -- his essence, the meaning of his existence.

At the beginning of this essay, I mentioned all the ways in which I felt I actually knew the screenwriter of this and other movies in certain ways based on what it is that he wrote -- that small part of him and his life. I've seen other reviews of his movies that implied that their authors felt the very same thing. The characters in his movies, though, are merely his thoughts, and nothing more. Maybe they share some of his characteristics. Maybe they do some of the same things that he does. But they are not him. We just get so wrapped up in our own stories that we often fail to realize that what we see of people is only what they choose to show at the times when we are around them. We don't ever really know anyone. Everyone is only the ideas we have of them.

And I keep saying the word "story" because that's the way Caden puts it. I think we all know the feeling, don't we? If someone asked you, "What is your life?" you would likely answer by telling a story. That seems to be the best way we've found so far to relate our lives to others. I guess it's easy to say that we don't make much of a distinction between the story of our lives and the lives themselves.

I just can't fathom how Kaufman ever came up with such a perfect title. He's probably had a grin on his face from the very moment the idea came to him.

Of course, I find myself wondering if you could even really say that this movie tells a story. Is there anything at all that can be taken as a literal event? It would be nearly impossible to sit down and write a narrative that told the story of Synecdoche, New York, would it not? Sure, we could interpret and extrapolate and perhaps guess at what the literal story is. But it would be just that: a guess. There's not really a clear sequence of events that I can see. Cause and effect don't appear to be very firmly linked.

After the first twenty minutes of the movie, I was under the impression that this was some attempt at dramatizing Caden's life as he perceived it.

Everyone is just so honest and blunt, saying exactly what it is that they WANT to say. All the way through to the end, this quality seems to persist in the dialogue. I could maybe still accept this explanation, but I'd say that the more significant purpose of the characters is to represent any one of us and those we know. Caden and those who surround him are cartoon people in an informative diagram. They are placeholders. But people like myself have very emotional reactions to what we see because those placeholders could easily be us.

I was just divorced from my ex-wife a few months ago. I can say that the sadness and hope and anger that I saw in Caden when Adele was leaving were very representative of what I felt during that dark time in my own life. And to hear Adele say that she sometimes wished Caden would die so she could start over again, guilt-free -- even though my ex-wife was the one who initiated our divorce, I am both sad and a little bit ashamed to say that I thought the very same thing at the times I felt the most unhappy with my former spouse. Even when I was angry with her, I still couldn't help but feel wretchedly saddened by that realization. But these are the things that real people really think, whether they want to own up to it or not.

The movie also conveys very touchingly how it feels to love someone and to find yourself unable to be who he or she wants you to be. To long for that person. To try and try and try to win that person's heart and fail every time because you can't be someone you're not. To look somewhere else -- anywhere else -- in some lame attempt to replace what it is that you actually need. Again, how many people have felt this way? Isn't it nearly universal?

And all of us have bodies that break down. Hell, I'm in my mid-twenties, and I'm already feeling horribly old. I can't run without my knees hurting, my back hurts for weeks at a time for no apparent reason, and my hair's already getting thin. Parts of us eventually stop working that we assumed would always work. We go to doctor after doctor to try to fight the inevitable. We don't know what they're doing to us or what their words actually mean.

We're embarrassed by other people knowing that we're falling apart. We're afraid that we're dying over the smallest things. We watch the color of our poop because, well, you just never know what could go wrong next. And we basically just take it all as it comes and there's nothing we can do to stop it.

This is the misery that we all share.

You have struggled into existence, and are now slipping silently out of it. This is everyone's experience. Every single one. The specifics hardly matter. Everyone's everyone. So you are Adele, Hazel, Claire, Olive. You are Ellen. All her meager sadnesses are yours; all her loneliness; the gray, straw-like hair; her red raw hands. It's yours. It is time for you to understand this.

Synecdoche, New York is without a doubt a very depressing movie. It is all hopeful struggle in the beginning, hopeless conflict in the middle, and loneliness and no hope in the end. I would contend that it is honest in its lack of hope, though, and that it isn't a downer movie merely for the sake of being a downer. It is meant to portray the tragic nature of life, because it can't end in any other way. And it always ends.

All those people we thought we knew, all those people we cared about -- they disappear, and we get more and more lonely. The scene where Caden walks out onto the street and sees no one but dead bodies brought tears to my eyes because he wasn't just alone; he was left to miss everyone who he'd known. Even if you're "lucky" enough to make it to an old age, you are surrounded by strangers. They might as well all be dead. You are left with nothing but the memories of loved ones, and when you get to that point, the world is simply empty.

As the people who adore you stop adoring you; as they die; as they move on; as you shed them; as you shed your beauty; your youth; as the world forgets you; as you recognize your transience; as you begin to lose your characteristics one by one; as you learn there is no-one watching you, and there never was, you think only about driving - not coming from any place; not arriving any place. Just driving, counting off time.

The meaning of the final scene in the movie isn't quite clear to me just yet. Is a perfect stranger, only heard of in a story, the person he loves in the end of his life? Is he just looking somewhere, anywhere, for company, for love, for connection? Would this be a sign that he realizes that the life of loneliness that he lived was only lonely because that is the path he chose for himself to take?

And did he really choose to take that path? It seems like the pivotal moment in his life really comes when he cries while he's having sex with Hazel, who is almost certainly the primary object of Caden's desires. It wasn't a choice, really, but it seems like Caden feels like it was. No doubt he regrets it. Would his life have turned out differently if he hadn't done that? Would he have ended up with Hazel? Would he have been happy?

When he saw that magazine article about Adele, it said something about her only wanting to be around happy, fun people. (Maybe not those exact words, but something close.) The importance of that statement, in my mind, relates directly to why he feels that Hazel doesn't reciprocate his love for her. He's a sad, desperate man. Who wants to be with someone like that?

But then, you have to consider, would he have been sad and desperate if things had worked out with Hazel? Might her presence in his life have made him more bearable to be around? One can only speculate.

Ultimately, I think Caden somehow accepts responsibility for his choices while simultaneously coming to the conclusion that he was wronged by forces beyond his control, that he never had a chance to make the choice that might have brought him and Hazel together. And this would be another link to the title's "Synecdoche", which is derived from Greek words that translate to "the acceptance of a part of the responsibility for something."

By crying in that single, irrevocable moment, he was unknowingly setting himself on the path to a terrible future. And he only cried because of his confusion -- because of being with a woman other than his wife, the absence of his wife and daughter, and all the other stresses of life. Speaking through the minister, he curses the nature of it all:

There are a million little strings attached to every choice you make; you can destroy your life every time you choose. But maybe you won't know for twenty years. And you'll never ever trace it to its source. And you only get one chance to play it out. Just try and figure out your own divorce.

And they say there is no fate, but there is: it's what you create.

It's definitely self-contradictory at first, but what I parse from this is: Sure, we may have some illusion of free will, and the choices that we make shape our future. But how comforting can that really be with the knowledge that the choices we are forced to make will have consequences we never could have forseen -- when we will never have the chance to correct any of our mistakes? If there is no such thing as fate, there might as well be. Once time has passed, it's passed for good.

What was once before you - an exciting, mysterious future - is now behind you. Lived; understood; disappointing.

So much of the movie revolves around the notion of time and its passing. There are obvious clues from the very beginning of the movie that the subjectivity of time is one of the themes that is being explored. The date changes by days (or weeks -- I'm not sure how far it goes) all during the course of a single breakfast.

Clocks and newspapers are the boring part of Kaufman's attempts at warping time in this film, though. I'm more touched by Claire's statement that she "used to be a baby," like it was some sort of shocking revelation. And by Caden's visions of his young and innocent daughter as her older, far less innocent self was dying. While this is definitely not the first time such a juxtaposition has been shown in a movie, it feels like it's written into this one with a higher purpose than simply pulling at one's heartstrings. It's strange the way that time changes us, even though we are somehow the same people that we've always been, and this scene puts that into perspective while also further displaying the limits of our ability to know other people, even those closest to us. To Caden, Olive is that little girl. That's the only way he's ever really known her. Again, she is to Caden only what Caden's idea of her consists of, which he never really got a chance to update because of the distance between them.

Anyway, I need to stop writing for now, but I want to get one more thought out because I think it's important.

I want to go back to the depressing nature of the film for just a moment. Make no mistake: it is a sad, sad movie if you really let it into your psyche. I've had my eyes well up with tears before, but this is the first movie I've ever seen that made me actually cry. It hurts because it takes the stuff that the optimistic part of you mind doesn't want to ever have to deal with and it punches you in the face with it, over and over and over again.

But when the credits stopped rolling and I got a grip on myself, I suddenly felt as though my spirit was truly lifted up. Maybe it doesn't make sense, but that is what I felt.

While the film speaks for our helpless isolation and the final meaninglessness of anything we struggle to do, you have to ask yourself, what possible reason could Charlie Kaufman have for trying to depress the living fuck out of as many people as he could manage to convince to watch this movie? If he's such a nihilist, why would he even bother to take the time and effort required to make this movie? Why communicate to people the utter hopelessness of their existence?

When I really sat down and thought about this movie, I get conflicting thoughts about nearly every conclusion that can be drawn from it. The message is that we're all alone, but if "everyone is everyone," don't we have a lot more in common than we realize? The message is that it doesn't matter what we do, but then shouldn't that just encourage us to try to live the lives that we want for ourselves? The message is that time is short, so shouldn't we try to make the best of what we have and stop worrying about whether or not we will be remembered?

But while alive, you wait in vain, wasting years, for a phone call or a letter or a look from someone or something to make it all right. And it never comes or it seems to but doesn't really. And so you spend your time in vague regret or vaguer hope for something good to come along. Something to make you feel connected, to make you feel whole, to make you feel loved. And the truth is I'm so angry and the truth is I'm so fucking sad, and the truth is I've been so fucking hurt for so fucking long and for just as long have been pretending I'm OK, just to get along, just for, I don't know why, maybe because no one wants to hear about my misery, because they have their own, and their own is too overwhelming to allow them to listen to or care about mine. Well, fuck everybody. Amen.

Am I just sitting around, wasting my time feeling sorry for myself, trying to get everyone else to understand how miserable my life is?

If we're all just waiting, maybe Kaufman is telling us to do something. Maybe he's trying to scare us and scream at us, "EVERYONE'S LIFE SUCKS, SO GET THE FUCK OVER IT AND LIVE!" Whether or not it's because it doesn't matter in the end, maybe that's what he's trying to say.

Or maybe I'm just missing the point entirely.

Life Gets Revenge

Sitting here at my computer desk, I was practicing on my guitar for the first time in months. It was... well, embarrassing, despite me being the only person (that I'm aware of) who could hear me.

I saw motion in the corner of my eye. It was a spider. A fairly large spider -- maybe nickel-sized, including the legs. Yeah, I know that's not REALLY big, but when you're slightly afraid of spiders, that's DAMN BIG.

So, I think, great, I get to kill a spider! I set my guitar down and stared at the little creature for a moment, pondering over what instrument of destruction I'd like to user to complete the task. Do I have time to get a paper towel, or should I just grab my shoe?

Now, I have to say, as much as I don't like to have spiders around me, I hate to kill them. First off, I hate cleaning up spider guts. Yuck. More than that, though, I just don't feel... RIGHT about doing it. Most people, I'm sure, think, ya know, it's just a spider.

But even spiders deserve a chance to live, don't they? I mean, as long as they don't fucking touch me.

Poor little guy. I got a little sad at the thought of squishing this arachnid invader.

Well, I don't have to kill it, I considered. He's moving awfully slowly. Catch the bugger, and set him FREE!

(Yes, the spider is a boy. I could see his little spider genitals, and it was a boy. Trust me.)

I looked around for an appropriate spider collection device, but was coming up short -- literally. I needed something long enough to make sure he couldn't crawl all the way across it before I got him outside, and it needed to be flat so I could scoop him onto it. Mr. Spider was progressing inch by inch up the door, towards what end, I did not know, but I did know that I had to be quick before the opportunity was lost.

I saw an envelope -- a short one, but... if I was swift, I thought I could pull it off. I grabbed it and ran to the door. I put the envelope directly in the spider's path, urging him out loud to get onto the damn thing.

He complied.

And to thank me for sparing his life, he crawled towards my fingers, delicately gripping the opposite edge with as little of my fingertips as possible. He just kept crawling and crawling and crawling.

"LET ME HUG YOU!" his creepy, needly little legs shouted at me.

I opened my door in a panic, and I tossed my new friend to the ground. I wished him no goodbye as I closed the door between us.

"ROUGH LANDING, BUT THANKS JUST THE SAME!"

And then, in that first second after staring into the face of fear in order to do a good and noble thing...

A fucking mosquito floated through the air right in front of me.

It had flown in during the second or two that I'd had the door open.

That mosquito, dearest reader, that FUCKING MOSQUITO, on MARCH FUCKING FIFTH, is now deceased.

WTF?

* * *

By midday yesterday, I was praying for the girl I'd messaged the night before to not reply. I got some kind of sense of dread, like I'd made a big mistake.

I was very relieved when she got online and off again without replying.

I'm not sure if it was a sudden lapse of confidence yesterday, or if it was a lapse of judgment on the night I messaged her. I really don't know.

* * *

I sent another message to another girl I've never met before in the hopes of meeting her in the future.

She also did not reply.

She was only somewhat pretty, so strangely, I wasn't very nervous when I messaged her. I just wrote what I felt, basically.

Fuck it, ya know. Let's go and see what happens.

Even more strangely, I was actually disappointed to not receive anything back from her, though she was definitely less desirable in certain ways.

I'm still not heartbroken over it, though. Discouraged, yes, but... I understand how these things work, I suppose.

* * *

I'm taking the day off work tomorrow. It's the last day of a week of a certain amount of freedom -- for a while, at least -- from taking care of my son. I figured I should take advantage of the time as much as I can.

It's been good in certain ways to have this time off from him, though I do love him. It has made me feel free; no parent reading this should be surprised that I feel bound to an extent when he's around.

I'm not sure what I'll do tomorrow. I'd like to take some pictures somewhere, but I don't know where to go.

* * *

I got on Flickr today to see what kind of pictures people near me had taken and, more specifically, to see if there were any good-looking female photographers in the area.

I discovered... well, I'd be most likely to call it a "gimmick," but maybe "subset" is a little more polite... a subset of photography techniques called "lomography," which, far as I can tell, means using the shittiest functioning equipment possible to take pictures. "Lo-fi," so to speak.

More than that, it's about documenting life -- having your camera around at all times -- and using instinct more than precise thought to make photos.

The look does have a certain appeal to it, and I can definitely get behind the ideological aspects.

So, I ordered a $25 camera to try it out. Should be here tomorrow or Monday. It's of the four-lens variety.

Seems like it'll be a lot of fun.

* * *

Fuck Daylight Saving Time.

Defeat

I guess I don't really need anyone. Maybe if I were the last person on Earth, it would be easier for me to know that. I know it already, but it's so very hard.

I lie down in my bed each night and remember the time in my life when I had someone to wrap my arms around. It might as well have been a million years ago, because it's all just memories, and my bare skin has nothing but fabric pressed against it.

Things weren't perfect; maybe they weren't even good. But they were okay. They were all right, and I don't know if I could say that about things as they are now.

Who knows what she's doing or who she's with? I honestly can say that I don't care anymore. She's nothing to me.

But she keeps telling me that she was just drunk. In my head, over and over again. I don't know if she means it -- if she meant it when she said it, and that makes it harder than anything. I can't understand how she possibly could have been telling the truth. But I don't understand much about what she did during that difficult time.

Am I some horrible, ugly troll? Sarah, she said I was hot, but Sarah's long gone. I am someone else now, and I live in a different world.

I didn't hear Sarah as I typed that message. It was Casey. Saying that she was just drunk, like it's what I need to hear, but really it's just what her goddamn selfish ass needed me to hear. She needed to hurt me -- no, to BREAK me. And it's working, because I wanted this girl to like me, but how could she like someone like me? I put two hours into two paragraphs, and I didn't believe a word I said.

There was hope then. And I went to bed, hoping, praying that she'd see, I'm a real person and I'm a good person and we'd get along, no matter how I look.

I expected no answer, though, and I got none.

It doesn't break my heart. I don't really need anyone. But it makes me wonder, did Casey mean it? Was hers the opinion of the majority? Or should I listen to Sarah?

* * *

I'm thinking about taking off work on Friday. I might go take pictures somewhere. Or I might see Watchmen. The trailer for that just looks so good.

* * *

I've got a lot of shit going on in my head that I should probably write about, but I am feeling like I want to just keep it bottled up. I wish I had someone to talk to about it, but I don't. My family wouldn't understand. They'd just make things even harder.

I miss having someone around to listen to me.