48 hours without weed and I've already had roughly 40 bajillion internal doctoral theses (thesises? thesii?) on every topic of the entire spectrum of humanity. Hilarious. I thoroughly enjoy my brain's ability to entertain me the way it does. But I can also see why I sometimes also enjoy dumbing the damn thing down. Like do we really need to have 50 internal Ted Talks per day? We do not.
It's fun but every once in awhile I yearn to turn on the television like normal people and let it do the thinking for me. I'm better at sitting through documentaries, but I'd rather read a history book while soaking in epsom salt under my galaxy projector. The ultimate!
A lot of women I know are watching Wednesday on netflix and are really enthusiastic about it and it's cute. I tried to sit down with it but the moment I finished my pho I turned it off. It wasn't bad, it just didn't grab my attention enough, even though everyone thinks it's right up my alley. It's overdone and the acting is ... well it's the Addams Family, it's meant to be campy and caricature-ish. I'll try watching it again next time I'm stoned, if that ever happens again. I haven't decided yet. It doesn't matter much either way since it's december and I'm walled up anyway. But still, I'm curious if quitting will motivate me to climb Everest or whatever the fuck.
Going through a death and a breakup makes me want to be fully sober apparently. I am a very strange woman. I want to feel it all. I am not afraid of my feelings. I want to hold her and love her like those mean men weren't brave enough to. She's starting to believe she just might be invincible. Maybe she is a real witch like the men say.
Reminder to self to watch Carol Morley's The Falling, which I decided I must see after reading this review by Joanna Mason on a FANTASTIC blog called Screen Queens:
"Abbie’s teacher criticises her: “try not to be quite so empathic”. There is a deliberate irony in this criticism of stressed expression preluding the falling; the girls are forced to adopt a violent, physical form of expression in face of their verbal one being denied. The girls are later again aligned with Miller’s witches when a man cycles past them on their walk home through the woods. “Crazy witches!” He cries, before promptly falling off his bike into a pile of wet leaves. Unlike Miller’s ‘witches’ in The Crucible, Morley’s girls are able to find a mode of peculiar empowerment in their hysteria."
2:39 p.m. - 2022-12-06