I just watched David Lynch's Lost Highway. Some people might try to tell you this is David Lynch's best movie. These people are, to put it plainly, retarded. They are the ones who don't understand that David Lynch is working with themes, and has a point. Lost Highway is a great David Lynch movie if all you see is weirdness, if you thought that Mulholland Drive was unintelligible but you say you enjoyed it anyway because it was just so Ca-Razy! No, all his movies make sense- I'm including Eraserhead when I say this, along with Mulholland Drive, and everything Twin Peaks associated. (Sidenote: Fire Walk With Me is fucking awesome, although it requires a knowledge of both seasons of the series. The series is pretty great, possibly the best show ever on TV, and the David Lynch directed episodes were the best of the series. I take it as part of the larger body of work, and it's one of the high points, despite the lack of some of what made the show great.) Lost Highway, not so much- I've read some stuff that seems to imply that even Lynch didn't know what he was doing. This isn't to say it's a terrible movie, it has some interesting moments, it's compelling and creepy. I can see why people would like it. But the people who like it more than any other Lynch film are not to be trusted. The narrative is largely nonsense, and the themes of identity are discussed far better in Mulholland Drive. Also, the soundtrack is shit- there's Rammstein on it, where there should be Angelo Badalamenti. Granted, I saw it on a piss-poor DVD- bad print, full-screen. It just looks ugly, which might not actually be the case. Still, in terms of narrative, it's not that strong. If anyone's written any analysis/explanation, I'd be interested in reading such a thing. Really, next time you talk to someone who says it's their favorite, ask them to explain it. They will probably get really offended by the idea, but I can explain what Mulholland Drive was about, and I can explain what happens in Eraserhead. They might think I'm lying or being pretentious when I say this, but no. David Lynch usually makes sense, and people who disagree with this thesis are assholes.

Before Lost Highway came out, David Foster Wallace wrote a great essay on David Lynch that's published in his book A Supposedly Fun Thing I'll Never Do Again. I recommend reading it next time you're in a book store. It should be located right next to the new Sarah Vowell book, Assassination Vacation, which looks awesome.

I haven't written in this for awhile, which isn't a sin on its own, but not doing so essentially means that I'm blowing off a large number of my friends. Still, I have my excuses.

Mostly my life is a really boring thing. The new thing, though, is that I'm very much running out of money, and employment opportunities aren't exactly presenting themself. I want to stay in Olympia over the Summer, but that would require jobs to exist in this town.

The other thing is that as an outlet for writing, I find the authorial voice used for these things to be not particularly interesting. This isn't to say I've been doing a lot of fiction writing, but writing about elements of my life for the informing of a handful of friends isn't the most exciting thing to do. Especially since it feels like all I ever write about is music and books and whatnot, and there are message boards for things like that, that have more immediate feedback, and are more specialized and likely to be interested in the subject matter I'm discussing. Also, Blogger won't allow me to cut and paste, meaning I can't edit, which further reduces the quality of my posts.

In addition to that, there's the film class writing, which is not particularly rewarding, hung up on both really boring subject matter (most of the films suck, with the notable exception of Fritz Lang's M) and a really boring approach to it. (They want analysis in terms of things like lighting and mise-en-scene, not criticism- they just want to get into how things work, and in the most basic sense, EVERYTHING WORKS.)

There's a film festival in Seattle I might have to attend, but I really don't have the money to spend for such a thing, and even though my mom's said she'll send me the money, the money would probably be better spent on just about anything I regularly spend money on. (i.e. food, paying off student loans, saving)

Did I mention that I've seen every episode of Twin Peaks, and Fire Walk With Me, and its largely fucking amazing, with the exception of a several episode stretch in the middle of the second season? I also saw Wild At Heart, and that's pretty good too. Two Netflix accounts going at once here in J208. We watch more than David Lynch, but there's too much I haven't written about to write about here, especially in the cursory recommendation mode which is not particularly satisfying.

I've been stealing books from Barnes And Noble, but I'm not very good at it, as I'm too much of a pussy to take more than one book at once. I'm going to stop for awhile.

Awhile back, on this blog, I wrote at thing about how I had a plan to stop reading comics, but decided it was a dumb plan. As it turns out, it would've been a smart plan, because most new comics output right now sucks ass. Best thing I've read recently is Daniel Clowes' Like A Velvet Glove Cast In Iron, which is several years old, and I stole from Barnes And Noble. A certain amount of my enjoyment could also stem from the fact that I got it for free, so that lowers the standard considerably. Stray Bullets is now being reprinted in the ideal format, and I picked up a copy of The Innocence Of Nihilism in softcover, but it read better the first time, with surprises intact. It's good though, you should read it if you haven't already. Oh, and after my first trip to Barnes And Noble, they stopped shelving things like Daniel Clowes and anything else I'd be interested in entirely. Fuck you comics. I get my music for free, (which I frequently feel bad about- there's some stuff that I should own) I get my movies for cheap, (which is less bothersome, because I very rarely watch movies over and over again) but you remain overpriced and underambitious, and take up large amounts of physical space.

As soon as I get a job, the new steady cashflow will go towards buying amazing records in genres unrecognized by my music collection, namely, the kind made by black people. I might buy these on vinyl, so it seems less shameful. I don't have a record player, but my roommates do, and I'm sure I will have one at some point before I die, especially if I buy things on vinyl.

Last night Alex and I went to a party downtown, not quite knowing what to expect, although we were expecting something different than what we got. What we got was an art project, orchestrated by two people from Portland. They get some kids together to build cardboard houses, a living space, a community in miniature and metaphor, for the geography that doesn't cut it. Talked to two people who make music and have record deals, one of whom I've talked shit on in the past. Didn't know who they were until I left.

Went back this morning, planted the homes in the dirt that lies beneath some pavement on a street that's soon to be repaved.

Rode back on the bus and saw a car with a We Shall All Be Healed sticker affixed to the glove compartment.

Olympia.