Up late again, obviously. The roommate is long-since asleep--or so I assume that she still is, anyway--and I myself only came in the room an hour ago. I stay up still because these late night hours are the only porn hours I get in the day--the roommate never leaves, after all.

It's been a quiet weekend, here. Friday night was a wasteland, and most of tonight was, as well--until Mike and a lot of the guys downstairs got back from Madison at midnight or so, and brought the dorm back to life. Mike amuses us--he comes back to school with vodka and cheap beer and blares Radiohead, and it's assumed we once again have a party. I chilled in his room until I got a little too weirded out by this girl there--she kept on insisting to listen to (Green Day's album) Dookie over and over, and sang along loudly. Small and thin, decked out in Green Day pins and a red skull t-shirt, "gifted" with a nasal, piercing voice, she reminded me too hauntingly of myself at thirteen. I had to leave. Anyway, Green Day's the soundtrack of middle school. No one wants flashbacks to that.

I wonder, honestly, what the soundtrack of high school was. Perhaps there were just too many. After all, I got into Nick Cave freshman year there, and went to a Radiohead concert, and got into techno and all that... Certain CDs and songs do have certain connotations--the first Cowboy Bebop OST will remind me eternally of late-night drives and the fourth of July in Finley; Stone Temple Pilots' "I AM SMELLING LIKE A ROSE" song is forever remembered out of tune and yelled in a Denny's parking lot. But nothing too severe, really.

I wonder what it will be, here. Right now I listen to Placebo's Black Market Music on my headphones, but it's not as if I'm exclusively listening to them. I've had the Pansy Division concert, obviously. Perhaps it will not be my own music I remember, but rather, that of others. Radiohead's light bass-beat coming up from Mike's room. Weezer from Jean. The Beatles, always, from Ani as she smokes another joint and swoons over Paul. Janis Joplin down the hall. The absurd "What's Your Fantasy" Ludacris song which is sung, off-key and drunkenly, while we dance dirty and laugh in the room next door. Perhaps.

And perhaps others will remember things from me. Perhaps my roommate's freshman year soundtrack will contain things she hates--an eternal wash of Placebo and Einsturzende, currently...

Speaking of Einsturzende, I became an official supporter recently on their website, and I encourage you all to do the same. I mean, obviously you may not be fans. I'm just putting it out on the plate. And I do get to see the video for The Garden, which makes me love Blixa that much more. One doesn't realize exactly how haunting his scream (inhuman as it is) is until one sees a video of him performing it...

Oh, and two more fliers, by the way. Both last-minute shit, I may add--I made them both a grand total of ten minutes before I needed to run them to a copier. Let's note that as there are two of them, I apparently did NOT learn my lesson the first time. Pee Wee's Big Adventure was one of those movies you forget, over the years, the exact NIGHTMARE LEVEL it was set at. Watching it again reminded me how it was my generation became so fucked up, after all. The Dark Crystal I look warily forward too. After all, one never knows if that were a nightmare too, or not. I've not seen it in quite some time. Labyrinth was only re-viewed for it's sheer Bowie content.

Finally, to my friends. VK, shake that moneymaker. Keep your drunken post up. You'll want to remember it later--in some perverse fashion. And Kat, don't get discouraged. It's not as if I ever have anything much to say, either. And parties aren't always what they are made up to be. After all, most of tonight's was spent watching Seven. Earlier in the evening, when it was still dead, I watched Blue Velvet as well. The latter I hadn't seen in quite some time, and forgot just how wonderfully David Lynch it was--and just how lovely it was to see my dear Mr. Brad Dourif. Ahem. But back to it--don't worry. At least you're not all alone. And things will come up again. I promise.

Well, back to my porn. I have to sleep sometime as well--I do have to be up by 1 to go to the Film Series meeting.

Final extra post-script: this is freakin' adorable. Even with Snape looking like someone's cross mom, there... (Thank irk for finding this baby)