the reluctant lobotomist (fourfreedoms) wrote,
the reluctant lobotomist
fourfreedoms

Therapize me

I'm supposed to be writing a paper on the seriality of horror in the Scream movies (causeways, weird person I would sleep with...Skeet Ulrich as the villain, not Skeet Ulrich, but like the crazy person who will not die and likes hanging people up by their insides...I'm not even kidding. I wish I were), but instead I'm fiddling about with Band of Brothers, some weird gay novel, and the course schedule for next semester.

Dear God, the classes are going to kill me. It's like the professors in the program decided to throw lectures out the window and offer only evening seminars from 7 to 8:50, or for whatever reason the class I want to take is during the writing seminar I'm determined to take. Not that there's a lot. It's slim pickings this semester. Blaxploitation and the female body, Spike Lee, The Western, American Avant-Garde, and like every course I've already taken before. I bet you all are like, WHAT YOU TALKIN', THOSE SOUND AMAZING.

No. You do not understand. If you could meet these professors with their crazy rhetoric: "The fact that he uses the back entrance symbolizes his desire to dress his mother's dog up in a duck costume, a theme oft exploited in this director's work and the genre as a whole."

Dear Professors,
I almost miss the days where I was being forced to read dudes who derived their only joy out of life by imagining themselves as futuristic robots and thought that the camera was a transcendant being made to inspire the unwashed masses to dizzying heights of farming perfection. These classes suck. What happened to Irish cinema?
Subscribe
  • Post a new comment

    Error

    default userpic

    Your reply will be screened

    Your IP address will be recorded 

    When you submit the form an invisible reCAPTCHA check will be performed.
    You must follow the Privacy Policy and Google Terms of use.
  • 9 comments