He or she gets a phone call from a friend and they proceed to have a conversation about someone’s cat or the date one of them just went on or what he or she got shopping that day while you sit there and mock interest in some old text messages on your cell phone.
Someone directed me to the Wikipedia entry for “stampede” the other day. I read crazy things there—stampedes that caused the suffocation of over 4,000 people, weird instances of mass hysteria, a link between consumerism and human herd-like behavior. This article explains and catalogs, to a somewhat limited extent, human stampeding and mass hysteria. Overall, the phenomena mostly seem bleak, as these behaviors allow us to witness, generally, people losing control of their minds.
Christopher Nolan’s epic masterpiece Inception is just about as narcissistic as movies can get. I mean really: it’s 2 ½ hours long and you have to stay put the whole time or you’ll miss a crucial plot twist. Also: nobody knows what it’s about.
Today The Stranger parodied, satirized, honored, pastiched, complicated, and/or reimagined (or somethinged) the Franzen-cover issue of Time…
This is the message a high following to low followers ratio sends out: “I’m not special and exclusive enough for you to even be somewhat proud that I’ve followed you. I follow everyone! I even follow more people than follow me. My follow is basically worth nothing (unless you have a crush on me).”
I can’t count the times I’ve had conversations with my college friends about how irritating Derrida is, or Foucault, or any theory with a capital “T.” Now that’s all moot. I used to question the point of Lacanian film theory. Now I question the point of getting out of bed.
On the clipboard was a paper that asked for your name and the organization that you represented. At the top of the paper was a paragraph that said that by writing our names on this paper we agreed not to publish anything ‘review-like’ until the day The Social Network was officially released.
We were on the subway and someone standing near us threw their water bottle into the air and collapsed onto the floor of the train. The person started shaking. I couldn’t tell if it was a man or a woman. The train stopped at a station and I remember looking frantically from the person shaking on the floor to somewhere outside the train.
On television, people have accidentally shot and killed their best friend while playing with their dad’s gun. In books, people have cried silently as their uncle slid his dick between their prepubescent thighs. How could my story compare to those? Nobody wants to hear about the time as a child I was offered a blowjob.
I don’t think the movie is that complicated. People dream in the movie and sometimes they dream within dreams. There are four “levels” of dreaming in the movie.