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It's late and I'm happy. In a weird way.
17.10.04 (03.45)
I was watching the last episode of Buffy ever, today, because I've been putting it off for nearly a month. When it was over, the only thought I had was that I'm so grateful Norway is incredibly far behind on the showing of Angel, 'cause I don't want it to end just yet. I remember seeing an episode when we lived in Colorado (looking back, I realised that it was in the first season, the one with the creepy demon-killing doll.), and being absolutely terrified. I was so scared I turned off the TV about halfway through (right about at the scene where it was crawling up to Buffy's window, to get very specific), and as such, I missed the reasonably happy ending, and have since - well, 'til this summer, when I bought the first season on DVD - been frightened half to death by it. How typical. It's one of those images that sticks to you for a lot longer than you'd think.
Just like the time I was sitting in the car with my father, we were driving, I can't remember where, but it was a long drive, and for some reason we were alone, but there we were. Listening to the radio, talking about this and that, and he told me about this program he'd heard about John Lennon, something of a biography, and how Lennon had seen a therapist to get over the fact that his father had left him when he was young. (Something like that, I'm a bit off on the facts) And in this therapy, he'd learned about the primal scream, and all in all, that had resulted in him using it as a basis for one of his songs. And my father was telling me this, and we didn't really talk a lot about it, but it felt so *right*. It was one of those things, I could sense how surprised he was at the fact, but in a good way. And it was one of those random moments you don't really think about until you realise that you won't forget them, because you can't.
I watched three episodes of Six Feet Under as well, and now I'm slightly teary-eyed and a bit off. Me and my brother are home alone, and he ran off for the night. In continuing my cool-sister-style, I told him to do whatever he wanted, but to let me know if he wasn't coming home for the night. He's gone off to the middle of nowhere for a party, but I trust him. I just wish he'd told me that he'd drank all my Baileys. I really wanted to mix it in with a coffee-drink - not because I want to drink, but it felt perfectly indulgant for a Saturday at home - but then there was barely enough for one glass. That's OK, though, I'll live. And I'll just have to hassle him to pay me for it, and to let me know the next time, so I can buy him something to drink that's a little less girly:D
And that's all you're getting from me right now.
Music of the moment: my iTunes is on random amongst 10.000 tunes... it's hard to say.
Favorite? "since when do you use your tounge to say hello? [...] [...] I guess since always, but nevermind..."
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