The Golden Era of Cinema

I fucked up my neck putting my backpack on last Thursday. It wasn’t even heavy. All attempts to solve the problem have only aggravated it. Now I can’t turn my head to the side, move it up or down, or raise my right arm. Reading is even more painful than usual as I keep tilting my head down. I bought one of those glorified rice filled sock contraptions that you microwave, the Magic Sac, though I prefer the French translation “Sac Magique.” It’s printed with little stars and makes me feel like a retarded child.

I cannot wait to move beyond the silent era in Film History. I cannot handle any more films about “the yellow man” or “the corrupt Burmese businessman” (who originally was “the corrupt Japanese businessman” until his race was changed on the intertitles to keep things more current.) Our film yesterday was titled “Sunrise: A Tale of Two Lovers” and was about a man who takes his wife out on a boat and attempts to drown her, then has a sudden change of heart and instead sails the boat to the city where he attempts to redeem himself by taking her to a restaurant and handing her sobbing ass a basket of bread, which actually works, so they spend the rest of the day having their portraits taken and dancing and playing carnival games involving sliding a live pig down a ramp because they have a ridiculous amount of disposable income for farmers. Then, sailing back from the city, there is a huge storm and the man ties the woman to a bundle of sticks for some unknown reason, then the boat capsizes and he floats away and when the search party goes to look for the woman all they find are the loose sticks floating around, so the man goes home to mourn but then they find the woman alive like 20 minutes later.

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