Zombies

Here is my deepest thought from last night:

Milla Jovovich is the female Keanu Reeves.

Both pretty.
Both bad.
Both making up for their badness by being kind of heroically unpretentious.

You think they're being pretentious but then you realize they're actually trying REALLY HARD to emote and are unable to make their facial features respond in any way short of grunting and looking their uniquely pretty brand of ugly.

Yes, Seth, while you were whimsically viewing the sentimental piffle that is Godfather, Part 1, I was hunkering down for a sobering, academic contemplation of Resident Evil 2: Apocalypse. Notebook and light-up pen in hand, I and the other philosophers in the audience absorbed the text, subtext and supratext from a zombie film that is really more a metaphor for creation. Or destruction. Or maybe even life itself. I'm still tallying plotpoints and analyzing remarkably dense dialogue so let me get back to you regarding its implications for the future of mankind.

I, too, bemoan the dearth of nights you might find me up late smashing windows and huffing paint. There came a point where 8 hours of sleep became an asset to my existence. I like to think that without my job - being more a night person than a morning person - I would probably go to sleep most evenings around 4AM. Sadly, having to be up at 9AM does not make this possible. Lack of sleep plus minute levels of consistent stress = devolving Casimir. Literally, with too little sleep, my body just starts breaking down. I sweat at strange times, in strange areas. I get suspicious of inanimate objects. I drink large quantities of Fresca. It's not pretty.

I have given up coffee though - 6 days jitters free - and my sleeping has improved substantially. Though I am more consistently a little tired, the time I spend asleep is restful and healing. Maybe staying up late is better left to all the coffee drinkers out there.

Now, if I could only kick the Nuke I've been injecting into the space between my toes.