Last night was Matt Levin's Angels & Demons Party, which was very good! I approve of the new location, though it's smaller and therefore much warmer than the Gardner House. I really enjoyed my costume because I like cream colored lace and glitter, which is all I did for the costume. I had glitter everywhere, and will continue to do so for months now, but I don't mind because I like glitter. I may even like it an inordinate amount. Oh, I also braided ribbons of paper into a halo. It was a little touch. Mike and I started early by having a 40 each so we arrived in a pretty good and drunk state already. It was fun, I talked a surprising amount to certain people whom I didn't expect to be so personable. He just sat down next to me and started talking and listening and being nice. It was a little disconcerting, but I like to think I handled the situation with an aplomb almost out of the reach of someone's who's ten drinks into the evening. Anyway, I like where he is now, and who he's there with, and I would never do anything to ruin that. He needs it more than I need him. Because I don't even need him, I just want to win. I need to work on that. ZMase and Keight were gentlemen and walked me home, and then Ver was ill, but she's very self-contained and wouldn't have me help her. She's fine.
Today, ZMase and I had dinner after I slept and then loafed about all day. We talked about certain Ver Issues, and how we wish we could make her see. Then we planned my life:
One day, I will finally make the short film about how Casey was assaulted while dressed as a large soft drink cup. People will love it, and thinking it's symbolic for something, they will give me an Oscar. At some point during my Oscars acceptance speech, I will thank ZMase, and a little later make a really outlandish comment, most likely racist, and I will be shunned. No one will work with me, and I move to France because France likes me as they figure I must have done something good to make all of America hate me. I'll buy the chateau next to Johnny Depp, and we'll become fast friends, as he understand my need to express myself as an artist. We'll roll cigarettes together, and he'll stand up for me in public. I'll continue my film work, and only the Cannes Film Festival will show it. Also during this period I will write a brilliant translation of The Aeneid, which will within ten years become the standard english translation. During this fame, I will tour univeristies to make speeches. At one university, I will be completely sloshed and once again earn myself some bad press. ACCLAIMED CLASSICS SCHOLAR KIRSTEN CROOKS GETS DRUNK, RAISES CONFEDERATE FLAG the papers will say, and I'll once again flee to France, where I'll busy myself babysitting Johnny Depp's children. A little after this, an industrious undergrad (a fellow ancient greek, latin, & english major) will notice how I've not translated so much as piecemealed lines of poetry from obscure eighteenth century Scottish writers into a loose semblance of The Aeneid. I'll become the pariah of classics academia and continue to make films. When Ver discovers the cure for AIDS, she'll speak out in public for me (Kirsten Crooks was my roomie, let her back in the country), and I'll make another short film. It will be unanimously popular even though it's dreadful boring. People will feel it's necessary to see the film about the cure for AIDS, it's really important even if they never really cared before. This is the film that will earn me my star, and I'll be studied in film classes for another 75 years or so until AIDS becomes a social blip, kind of like polio, and no one will really care anymore.
We also came up with another outlandish scenario after Parade magazine told me that Paris Hilton plans to be celibate for a year because people are bored of her having sex with everyone. ZMase thought it would be a better idea if she decided to have sex with 365 men in a year, which of course will lead to her getting AIDS. I'm hot, she'll say, but you know what's not? AIDS. And she'll begin to wear a t-shirt that says I HAVE AIDS by Marc Jacobs, and soon everyone will be wearing it, because it's symbolic. Too many Africans they don't care about are dying everyday, and it's cool to care about Africa. Marc Jacobs will make millions on his "We All Have AIDS" line, and even when it's announced that Paris is actually clean (it was a false positive, one in every hundred, they say), people will still wear their I HAVE AIDS shirts. And then Verity will discover the cure for AIDS, and no one will care anymore.
I should got do work. I keep being behind, I need to be a better student.