Well, I guess this blog needs a little dusting off. I left it for greener pastures when I trotted off to Japan for 8 months, so prompting the creation of a new blog (link can be found in previous post) to record down to the tiniest detail my adventures overseas. However, as is often the case, and quite apparent from a cursory look at the pattern of this blog’s archives, I am a poor excuse of a conscientious writer. At any rate, this summer has felt quite different from previous ones, which is likely a direct result of having been in a place that I absolutely loved and wasn’t too keen on leaving, so my homecoming has been lackluster and dull at best. My brain still seems to be trying to sort things in ways that make sense, but generally my head is full of half-thoughts of english and japanese.
If there is a single aspect of this summer worth noting, it is as my summer of True Blood. I have been watching this show fanatically, without pause, for the past few weeks, and have managed to get myself so raveled up in this fictitious tale that every second thought is somehow related to the show. To be unequivocally clear, I am really smitten with the character Eric Northman as portrayed by Alexander Skarsgård. Ho boy, does that vampire have a compelling physique. And his story is pretty interesting too. Apologies to Edward Cullen, but he and all the rest of the Twilight vampires really seem like a bunch of sissy-willows. I mean even the more emotionally prone Bill Compton still maintains extreme levels of badassery when pushed to his limits.
Oh, I also saw Super 8 today with my brother. It was a great little story, I thought. Definitely got my full $5’s worth of entertainment value. Plus, there was a really great preview for Rise of the Planet of the Apes, which I inadvertently called when I whispered to my brother that the whole thing felt like Planet of the Apes mere seconds before the film title flashed up at the preview’s conclusion. I won’t lie, I felt very cool. But yeah, Super 8 was, well, great. I have also decided that anything set in the 1970s and involving aliens is destined to receive Steven Spielberg’s approval. If I were anything of a mathematician it might be kind of fun to come up with some function that describes this behavior, but as I am an idiot with numbers and equations I’ll stick to my meager arsenal of words.
One more thing: nostalgia is the arbiter of apathetic individuals’ decisions.
And sleeplessness is the reason behind every vaguely philosophical utterance of the adolescent mouth.
That’s all. Off to bed now, chitlins.