[May, 1995] Not Just The Weather
I feel like hell. I don’t know what this is but last night this odd fatigue came over me and I got a sore throat. My throat’s better now but I still feel strange.
I saw “Paris, Texas” last night, but only really paid attention to the last hour, which was really good. I’ll have to see it again some time. And I want to still see “Until the end of the World” as well as any other Wim Wenders movies (films actually because they’re too deep to just be called movies) that I missed.
This is a bad day. Two more classes left and chorus (don’t think I’ll sing today though).
“We scratch our eternal itch
our twentieth century bitch
and we are grateful for our iron lung” – Radiohead
Reviewed The Bends for the Observer. Raved about it.
I think I want to see “Wings of Desire” again. I’m sort of in the mood for it.
I’m reading The Bell Jar which my English teacher said would fry my brain. That, combined with getting 3 more Cure tapes isn’t the best thing for lightening up my mood. I think it’s just the weather.
It wasn’t just the weather.
I still vividly remember my English teacher’s warning about the book and how I dismissed it. After all, this was the same teacher who did not give good grades on papers that disagreed with his viewpoints and managed to ruin The Great Gatsby for me (luckily I reread it again years later and it became a favorite). So I was looking for a reason to contradict him and was determined to enjoy the novel without absorbing any of its darkness. That didn’t work out so well, though, and I still slipped into a depression for a good week or two. Though watching a sad movie like Paris, Texas (even if only the second half) and listening to lots of The Cure probably contributed to that some.
[I just need to pause here to comment on my use of the word "film" over "movie." While I still make that distinction from time to time, I cringe at the way I corrected myself in this journal entry. This is me rolling my eyes at my pretentious teenage self.]
While I could never read The Bell Jar again knowing what it did to me, it wouldn’t be the last time that my emotional state would be profoundly affected by something I read, watched, or listened to. I saw Requiem for a Dream in the theaters and cried for days. When the DVD came out, I watched it again and was plunged into another depression and finally made the connection.
Maybe it’s the mark of a work of greatness or maybe I’m just too damn empathic. Either way, I always find it remarkable when a creative work could provoke such an intense emotional response. And while I still find a natural allure to dark and disturbing things, sometimes I have to proceed with caution so that I don’t end up in my own bell jar again.