What's Up, Tiger Lilly?

His first movie, finally watched after this two month marathon of his movies, and tomorrow morning I will watch his second one, Take the Money and Run. I was too tired to watch it tonight, thought I should get plenty of sleep prior to the advent of my crazy work schedule. Then there is Bananas and Match Point, which just opened here, and then I will be done with having seen all of his movies, all forty or so.

It was better than I had thought it would be, What's Up, Tiger Lilly?, but also worse than I had hoped it would be. It's a pretty brilliant concept - he dubbed over a Japanese spy flick with comedic dialogue and made it a movie about various factions trying to obtain this egg salad recipe. There are some really funny moments in it, but the gag wears off pretty quickly.

I am reading Fran Lebowitz's Metropolitan Life right now and finding it mildly funny, but like so much humor writing, I find the delivery a little flat. I don't know why but I have such a hard time reading humor, finding it funny without it being delivered by a human voice.

The human voice that I was in love with at work today was Diana Ross's and I played "Keep Me Hanging On," over and over again at work. The track sans vocals itself is amazing and then layer those painful lyrics on top of it, and I cannot get enough of this song. The rhythm sounds so futuristic for some reason and maybe it's because I want to get there, to that point to be able to say those things so tough, so not lying - and motherfuck, it must be eighty degrees in my apartment even though the windows are wide open and have been for the past two hours. I wanted to leave my apartment as soon as I came home. I never like being here lately. The orange is going to be repainted on my next day off, on Saturday, because I have decided I hate it. I come home and I know people and I know this space and its dimensions, its constraints, these orange walls, this always just too warm for comfort temperature, and I like wandering the streets, taking my time coming home, hoping to encounter someone, but never doing it, but the hope being there that maybe that connection will be made and I know I could pick up my phone and seek it out but obviously I don't want it, I tell myself I don't want that, but really, it is probably that I don't want it if I were to be honest, that's why I hope for things that I could obtain but don't want to, why I look for it out there. I really like walking at night down empty streets and want that now, wish I could turn off my lights and say goodnight and it would be dark and I could sleep in something other than fits and masturbate not quietly because waking up at whatever hour with a hard dick seeing the light of the tv outside my door and knowing someone was out there awake and so cumming quietly into an empty cup that I found next to my bed, within arm's reach because I did not want to get out of bed and look for a towel, letting it be know that I am awake.

Let it be know, I am awake. And I claimed that I could not stay up for a second Woody Allen film this evening. Good night.