I watched Excited again. I thought I had only watched half of the episodes, but I didn't realize until the end that I just didn't watch the last episode.
I've read it all, but my head seems to be empty. It seemed like nothing was transmitted in, or maybe the strange intertwined stuff in the brain was sucked out. Inside my head was an empty, dim room, and if I could toss a coin, there would be a clear, continuous echo in the air. I am not a wishing well because coins are not crisp when dropped in water. I'm not a wishing well, I can't collect other people's wishes, and I can't have wishes.
It's a high school story again, and American high school is a good fermentation vessel for the plot. A lot of dramas I've watched are based on high school as a timeline. Everyone is brave and different. I am so envious that people do most things without thinking about the consequences first. Everyone recklessly did what they wanted to do. I really like the picture of the dance party, the lights are purple, flickering and dim. It is a public place, but it seems to be an independent space with compartments. No one will withdraw their edge because there are other people next to them, and no one will retreat because they care about other people's opinions. Everyone danced in their respective compartments, like a display in the window, making people unable to look away, wanting to be attracted by the glass window willingly. But there is communication between everyone, it is me who has a partition, and it is me who is standing in the glass window watching everyone. But this time, I am not a doll on display, my glass is vacuumed, I wish I could let some air in, I wish I could allow air to flow in.
I will always envy their courage and publicity. Maybe this is what I've been missing. I originally wanted to record some memorable plots, but I seem to have been asking myself to explore myself. If I had to say my favorite scene, it would be Jules making out with someone and Rues having a sore bladder because of depression. Obviously the two people are not in the same space, but the two people have the same expression. Pain and enjoyment are obviously incompatible things, but they can be conveyed with the same expression. Is it enjoyment or pain, and which of the two is enjoying the pain? It doesn't matter anymore, the pictures are intertwined and connected, and it's the two of them who are making out. Pleasure and pain may never have been synonyms.
I really like that scene.
I also liked that Nate put his hand in Jules' mouth by the lake, saying that it was open wider and Nate also made an appointment with his girlfriend to meet at that dilapidated hotel, the hotel where his father was staying. Nate showed his father's shadow in his words and deeds. I don't know if it was a subtle influence or a deliberate imitation of him. I shudder. The similarity seems to be coincidental, but it is in fact inevitable. He was destined to do so. It's not so much that he chose to follow some of his father's not so good aspects, but rather that he couldn't escape and became a human being. I was also impressed by him fighting his father naked in the penultimate episode. He was so strong but he couldn't beat his father. The father pressed him to the ground, and in the picture, the father and him also seemed to be having tough sex. He was also one of the father's dates, and he became one of them, but the joy was painful. Not because the orientation is wrong, the object is wrong, but because it is painful in itself. He was obviously arrogant and unscrupulous, but the image of him slamming on the floor with his body made it hard for me to breathe. It turns out that everyone will have moments of weakness, and it turns out that everyone has something they can't escape. I used to like to use bumps and bites to wake up my body too. Maybe it's a rebellion against myself. I struggle with myself. You are obviously me, why are you violent to me again? The violence here is psychological.
At that moment, I seemed to be able to forgive him. I would kind of want to hug him.
I also love the episode where the little boy witnesses all the fez heists at the end. He didn't scream or cry for help or help. He was just a child, and he seemed to be a bystander, an indifferent spectator. In fact he was the biggest victim of the robbery. Every fight was on his weak heart. Pieces of the heart fell into the blood, and he wasn't injured, but it seemed like something had collapsed.
It's only when you're injured that you realize there's no blood on your body.
Sometimes I'm afraid of being pointless, and I'm desperate to think about what I'm getting out of this show. But I obviously like meaningless. I like the pleasure of a sudden shock without a reason. I think unreasonable love is the clearest and most precious to me. I seem to have always been a contradiction. I asked myself to ask myself, and I constructed the question myself to overthrow myself. I'm chasing myself in a closed loop, like a puppy biting its own tail in a circle, which is meaningless in itself, but I always find meaning in it.
At least the puppy is happy, am I.
I do not know.
Whether you admit it seriously or not torture yourself are two different things. I remember this sentence. Someday I'm going to watch Double Lawrence.
I'll let you go today.
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