2003-03-27 - 4:48 a.m.

Just finished True Colors, one of those just OK films with flashes of awesome tucked away. I like those films--quirky, with elements of cheeze, but with something.

John Cusak and that other guy were both excellent--I really like Cusak. I like how he darts his eyes, how he knows when to overact, when to be subtle. How he thoughtfully flicks his tongue before he speaks--no I do not want to fuck him--I just think he�s a good actor. That�s all. Mmmm, versatile.

The film is ostensibly about politics (like literally, like the senate and congress and stuff) but its really about the politics of friendship. And there�s mafia guys in it sometimes. And you get shots of Bridgeport, Connecticut.

And it�s a politics (like, literally) film from 1990, so it�s not wicked slick like Primary Colors, Bob Roberts, or Wag the Dog, three of my favest films eva. I liked that, too, cheezeroni and literati--it was kinda like Network and St. Elmo�s Fire were accidentally scheduled to shoot at the same set on the same day, and the directors said oh, why not.

Oh, and this whole short paragraph goes out to all you flim (yes, flim) students out there--wanna make a good movie? Don�t cut corners when it comes to music. It�s difficult to concentrate on your idea when listening to dialogue eclipsed by a porn soundtrack, and it's also difficult to masturbate to your idea.

OK--so enough with that. I wanna talk about the balloon.

So there�s this balloon that�s been following me around.

I got it for my infamous (at least to me) superbowl party, and it�s still heliumin it up, but it ain�t doing so good.

It was tied to a little yellow plastic smiley-face weight for awhile, and I had it parked on top of my television, but when the balloon started to show signs of age, I cut it free--I kinda retired it, put it out to pasture.

Since then, it�s been roaming the hallway, checking out the rooms, weighed down now by even its own ribbon, amazingly halfway between the floor and the ceiling, drifting.

I think it likes me. Or misses me. I think it knows that it�s going to die soon.

I�ll be doing whatever, writing, playing music, making coffee, and I�m instantly terrified by something peripheral moving.

Balloon.

Or, I�ll snag something from the fridge at night, and there�s something lurking in the shadows.

Balloon.

That thing has scared the shit out of me way more than any other object in my apartment.

But I kinda feel bad for it. It was a good balloon. Just yesterday I was playing some guitar in the living room, and I felt something brush up against my arm.

Balloon.

It�s a second roommate that creates no messes, doesn�t make any noise, doesn�t really contribute anything, usually keeps to itself, but creeps me out anyway. Like it could be watching me right now--that type of thing.

Balloon.