An Internal Monologue

Had the Harry Potter experience tonight. A full theatre of pubescent girls screeching at a volume that could liquefy concrete. Cameras, costumes, fun and frivolity. They all ignored my screams: "You are all diseased!" "You are all going to prison!" "This is a plague!" "This is a cult!" "Repent! Repent!" The projection work was shoddy and the sound was messed up. I took this to be their punishment and my annoyance. It was actually a rather enjoyable film: pretty, fun, genuinely exciting and surprising at times.

Fifteen minutes before the end, amidst a scene of well-presented dramatic intensity. The movie explodes. The film goes up in flames. As usual, we sit around for the requisite 45 minutes, amidst repeat calls to the rioting masses that "we'll be back together in 5 minutes, 10 minutes, 10 more minutes." I know better. They apologize, offer us refunds or exchanges, but not tonight. We have to come back if we want what we paid for.

Bastards, trampling on teenage dreams. They'll pay, the lot of 'em.

Oh how I love my bizarre life.

Now I just have to fit some sleep in. I seem to be forgetting that my life has not really calmed down. I'm only pretending it is, and I wonder how long before that comes back to bite me in the ass. I guess I better play it for all it's worth now.

Nite.