Friday 1 February 2013

Garden State

Fridays are unfortunately my busiest day at Uni. My timetable this term is decidedly terrible, with late afternoon classes and lectures all day Friday. The bane of my life is a three month module about research and dissertation planning. Today, in a group of six, I was the only one that had done the reading, and consequently had to perform like a dancing monkey and give my vague, undeveloped thoughts as legitimate ideas. Bit of a nightmare. 

Today I marched into Uni, armed with a flask of tea, nearly fell asleep in the lecture half of my class on rhetoric, waking up to discuss Princess Diana and the dramas surrounding her life and paparazzi nightmare. It's a class that I really enjoy, but being talked at for an hour about Aristotle is enough to numb anyone's brain into sleep. A coffee injection over lunch gave me strength to survive the killer three hours this afternoon.

Sadly the caffeine survived until I arrived home, at which point I completely crashed and was forced to nap until my brain returned to a vague state of normalcy. 

Having decided to spend the evening in as a house, it was the perfect opportunity to educate my housemate in the wonders of Garden State. Having become one of my favourite films when I first saw it, a few years have passed since I watched it again. This time it was even more magical. The soundtrack, the weirdness, the general delights of Zach Braff. I mean really, what isn't there to like. 

I've said it before, and I'll say it again, the screaming in the rain part, well, that is one of my absolute favourite scenes of all time. In any film. I need to go find myself an infinite abyss to shout down. In the rain. With a nice man. If you can organise any of the above, I'll be a very grateful Londoner. 


Oh If You Insist


...One teeny, tiny, new post. This is one of my favourite quotes, from a phenomenal novel by Michael Cunningham called The Hours. 

If you haven't read it. Wait. Go read Mrs Dalloway by Virginia Woolf (work through it, you'll survive) and then pick up Cunningham. He will blow you away with his talent and his cheek. And his genius.


'She could have had a life as potent and dangerous as literature itself.'

This is Michael Cunningham.
With glasses like these, how could you resist his
genius words.