October 11, 2008

Had a fun night laster day. Emily and Jesse were a lot more fun than I gave them credit for. HDTV is up. Back to work. Chew your gum.

- Later -

My dreams have been sort of weird lately. When I say weird, I mean on an emotional, subconscious level. My spectrum of weird is much different than others'. People get chased by zombies or sit through biology class naked while Napoleon Bonaparte teaches in a clown outfit. That's not weird in my mind. Weird for me is feeling something for a girl that's not my girlfriend. Weird for me is being at a move premier with Scarlett Johansson fawning over me, but feeling uncomfortable about the situation for some reason. Being kissed by a line of girls, all of whom I've met over the last two years, one after another, and none of them being giddy about the act - that's the weirdness. I've no qualms about sexy dreams. I just don't appreciate feeling depressed or guilty after the fact. Weird.

- Even Later -

Is it strange to talk about my balls? Is it inherently immature to refer to scrotum and testicles as "balls"? No? Okay - that's good enough for me.
Today was unseasonably warm, which usually puts me in a semi-depressed funk, both mentally and literally. I was running way behind this morning. That means I've been sixteen or so hours without a shower in up to eighty degree hear. Moving, lifting, walking, sweating, sleeping, eating. My hair and my balls really take the blunt side of the "naturale" bat. It's not an annoyance or anything, I just seem to notice them more.
My hair is straighter, less free to frizzle or get in my face. My balls get lazy. They sag between my legs acting less like visitors and even less like the little managers of my world they are supposed to be. I do not stress "little", I simply acknowledge the reality of relation. When I am overly warm, my balls are the friend who plops himself on the couch and doesn't get up.
'Have you got anything to drink?'
'Yeah.'
'...like, what?'
'Water, tea, milk, Coke...'
'Hey - Coke sounds great.'
'...'
'...'
'Okay...I'll get one for you, then.'
'Hey, thanks.'
An aspect of casual life one is not harassed by, but merely forced to endure. I put up with my balls when they get saggy.

A quick Randy Newman side note (more to come later - it is well past eleven and I need to shower and go to sleep): he performed "In Germany Before the War", a wonderful short sketch off his character-piece driven Little Criminals. That song reminds me of the film M. Peter Lorre is a pedafile murderer in 1930 Berlin. The stark melody - excuse me, stark arrangement and unsettling accompaniment really pull you into the sad, yet terrifying and brutal world of the narrator. Much like Lorre's anti-hero, he can't seem to help himself. All he's looking for is someone to be with. It always ends the same though. To quote Fight Club: "I just felt like destroying something beautiful."
I bet Newman had that film in mind. He seems like a hip enough guy to draw inspiration from cats like Fritz Lang. Hell, when I listen to "Sail Away", I think less of Gone With the Wind and more The Sound of Music. It's a story of greed and prejudice put on such a grand scale, like Cabaret or something. Honestly, it really reminds me of "Tom Traubert's Blues", or/and "I Stay Away". There's a little Berlioz and Moondag atmosphere in there as well. Randy's all about looking backwards with a disturbing, sly eye. His smarmy use of Dixie-land is quite timeless. Like Tom Waits. Instead of living in that out-of-time world like Tom does however (he's virtually straight out of a Universal horror picture, and that doesn't even count his voice), he simply recalls it with his arrangements. There is something utterly unique about using a muted trumpet to make a point about agnosticism. Tickling the consciousness along with the ivories is a singular feet that only Randy Newman can pull off.
Kudos.