some thoughts

I have a consuming fear that I am Jared’s Annette.
And that Jared is Tim. And that in a few years—
My world will be turned upside down.
And changed forever. And I’ll look back to this time—
And wish that I had played it all very differently.

I want to watch Lost in Translation again. I hated it the first time. Really truly hated it. Everyone around me had built it up so much that I was convinced it would be my absolute favorite movie. But I was bored. And I don’t really like Bill Murray. I guess I liked him in What About Bob?—or maybe I just really liked What About Bob? I’m not really sure. And I don’t like Scarlett Johannsen. And I hated her character in Lost in Translation—I wanted to smack her, but I’m beginning to relate to her—and I want to smack myself. And this is why I want to watch it again. Plus, I like the soundtrack.

I watched Goodbye Lenin last night. Fell asleep halfway through, but it was about 90th time I’ve seen it, so I think it’s fine. I love Goodbye Lenin—everything about it. The characters, the storyline, the way it’s shot, the humor—everything. And I love that it’s in German. I always feel more intelligent after foreign films.

**note to reader: if you enjoy chick flicks, but don’t like to admit it, watch foreign chick flicks, because then you can say, “I watched a really great foreign film last night” instead of, “I watched a really great chick flick last night”.

**recommendation to reader: Priceless with Audrey Tautou. Cute, fun, and French. Really can’t go wrong.

Dear Mr. Fact Omitter,

Please stop omitting facts—it really makes me not want to be anywhere near you. And I don’t think I really trust you. And I don’t think I really want to live with you. And though, your omissions make great fodder for my blog, they really make me feel like shit about myself.

Mr. Fact Omitter, I’m sick and tired of sneaky fucking scumbags.

Love Always, LUCA

here on out referred to as "my bits"...

"hey baby, nice clavicle. sexy sexy clavicle."

trapped tired overwhelmed indecisive
I’m back in Sydney. I’m back in my beautiful house that overlooks the ocean.
shallow frantic lost confused
An awkward kiss at the airport and a day full of longing and regret.
Singing songs that remind me of things I shouldn’t be reminded of.
Indecision regarding things I’ve already decided.
Wishing I hadn’t decided anything and wanting all decisions to be made for me.
empty sad hopeful alone
Wanting to keep my bags packed. Wishing I had enough money to fly back at my discretion.
warm dismissed forgotten dropped
And maybe that’s a good thing after all.

“YOU ARE an idiot. YOU ARE a fuckin’ moron. YOU ARE soo dumb.”—Luca’s mama

Maybe she has a point here. I mean I definitely do not deserve intelligence points for last Friday…not by a long shot. I realize this.

But how was I supposed to know it was a prison? I don’t know the Acton/Concord area. And the windshield was so dirty that I couldn’t even see the barbed wire. It’s the reason I pulled into the parking lot in the first place. More wiper juice.

And sure, it’s probably the reason why the statey ran my plates, found out I was driving an unregistered and uninsured vehicle, pulled my ass over, and towed the jeep away. And the reason why I hung out at the Acton Mcdonald’s for several hours waiting for a ride back to Coho.

And I do feel bad that it’s costing Sally a buttload of money that she doesn’t have and forcing her to miss work that she really shouldn’t be missing. I’m just an asshole.

Despite the shit details of the situation I did meet a wonderful wonderful dude named Brendan. Brendan, if you are reading this, I think you’re a wonderful wonderful dude. I hope you are having an excellent day.