I've been engaging in an incredible amount of eye rolling lately. Life seems to lack the verisimilitudinous details that can really only be created by a piece of well written literature or lyrics, even. Of course, I suppose I could be a bit less passive about the entire situation. So what do I do? Oh, you know, take the afternoon off to reread some Kafka. God, could I be any more pretentious? Haha all I can think of is that scene from The Squid and the Whale: "Yeah. I mean, it's gross when he turns into the bug, but I love how matter of fact everything is." "Yeah, it's very Kafkaesque." "Cause it's written by Franz Kafka." "Right. I mean, clearly." I absolutely love that film, I think it perfectly captures the essence of the incredibly flawed human idiosyncrasy known as arrogance and portrays it as the childish behavior it is; I suffer from chronic arrogance, I'm trying to get better at it but people make it really difficult. Besides that, what else? Oh, I accidentally binge ate today then engaged in some damage control, typical bulimic stuff. Am I the only person who thinks artistic license is the absolute most incredible concept ever? It used to drive me nuts in high school, poetic license in particular, because I spent countless nights memorizing different metric, line and rhythmic patterns (I still have nightmares about iambic pentameter) then came along these license holders who screwed everything up. I actually never recovered my love for poetry, I'd be fine if I never had to read another poem ever again. Well, maaaaaybe some Pablo Neruda in the original Spanish, but I digress. I love witty use of artistic license. Symmetry is beauty, they say. I'm not sure. Happy Monday!
"Penélope" Joan Manuel Serrat*
Photo via Fotografie de Moda
-melidee
