I can only update this once a week, now. Since my computer crashed, which I explained in detail in the last entry, I've not had the Internet in my apartment. So now I have neither Internet nor Television. I think I should start building fires and drawing pictures of The Hunt on my wall.
The television is by choice, though. You all know that.
For my dose of television, I come home to do my laundry and watching movies until the sun comes up. I have now seen nearly everything that I'm "supposed" to see. Both Kill Bill's, "The Terminal," "Love, Actually," "Secret Window," lots of Michelle Pfeiffer movies, lots of Johnny Depp movies, old movies, like "Portrait of Dorian Gray," odd movies like the Holocaust movie, "The Pianist," and weird things, which usually come on in the morning - these are kids' movies, made in Britain, about Merlin and witches and leprechauns and magic. They're awful, really, but they're a nice change from whatever comes on a four in the morning and makes you cry.
There's a psychology about entertainment and time of day. I've noticed this trend on the radion, too. Earlier in the evening, the fluff is on. Popular music (my only reference is the classical station on the radion, by the way), popular movies, lots of action, murder, sex, horror, silliness. Around three in the morning, stranger stuff comes on. Psychological movies, dark, thinking movies. For music, at three in the morning, background, boring Baroque stuff comes on. Mathematical, lulling, nothing jarring. Makes sense.
Now, at four in the morning, if you are still awake, this is when your emotions are on edge due to lack of sleep. At four in the morning, heart-wrenching stories come on, whether they be about Nazis or falling in love, or whatever feeling we've buried that we can only feel in the early, early morning when our defenses are down. Every damn movie Mom and I have watched at four has made me tear up for whatever reason. Boo.
And on the radio, at four in the moring, the strange, complicated, nightmare music starts. Weird, atonal violin concertos. Twentieth century composers who have veered away from the relaxing, mathematical way of writing music and have put terror and death and war into their pieces. It's good music for brain stimulation when you're asleep and dreaming.
Wanna know something about my life? Huh? Huh? Too bad! Prepare to be disappointed. I have stopped whoring around since my last entry, which I guess was around Halloween/Thanksgiving. I know I stopped around Halloween, I think. Yup. So I've got no extracirricular drama to recount, because I'm doing nothing like that, now. 'Tis no longer the Soap Opera channel. I've filled the void with lots of fish, a new snake, renewed interest in my mice, an obsessive interest in my piano, and I'm trying to quit smoking. That's tougher than I thought, but I'm working on it. A cigarette here and there, days with none, then an embarrassing slip and the pack that was gone in a two day gap between patches. Boo.
Oh yes, to get me out of the house, my parents bought me season tickets to the Symphony. So every month, on a Thursday night, I get to go to the theatre (you must raise your nose into the air and pronounce it "THEE-uh-tuh" when you say that.) I enjoy it very much. The seats are the Titanic's equivalent of Steerage, meaning I'm two rows from the stage, down front on the right side - I can see the musicians sweating. But I don't mind, not at all. Last week they played a Rachmaninoff concert on the Symphony's brand new Steinway Concert Grand piano that the mayor and his wife donated. $100,000. I've thought about a Steinway piano. But the size and the prices. Even a small one would cost me upwards toward $40,000. I would own nothing else. I would have to sleep under it, I would have to cook on it. Guests would have to sit on it. I would have to be able to bathe in it.

"Hello, welcome to my piano."

Feeling all cultured down here in Knoxville.

~ me

9:08 p.m. - February 21, 2005