the manipulation: or how I'll never be able to listen to Noah and the Whale the same again.

Tribeca kicked off Thursday night; since then I have seen a total of three films. All three viewings have been affected in some way by my deteriorating mental and physical conditions. I am eating very little these days, somewhat relying on coffee and cigarettes to get me by.

The first film I saw, Lola by Brillante Mendoza, was on Friday afternoon. I felt ambivalent to it at first, but upon reflection I think it might have been more special than I originally thought. I want to rewatch it, with a proper amount of sleep the night before, and see how I feel.

The second film I saw, The Chameleon by Jean-Paul Salomé, was on Friday night. It made me angry. Everything about it I pretty much found repulsive (not content wise, although they did sensationalize the material). It was laughable, and I do not think I would be able to watch it again if I tried.

The third film I saw, Meskada by Josh Sternfeld, was mediocre-to-bad. It was a very by-the-books crime drama, nothing special about it. Nick Stahl was adequate.

The fourth film I saw, Sons of Perdition by Tyler Measom and Jennilyn Merten, was actually good. My bad streak has temporarily ended. It was a documentary about subject matter that I know little about but it engaged me the majority of the running time.

My lack of sleep is due to manipulation. The manipulator doesn't quite understand me, or himself, to know what the point is, or what the outcome of his manipulation would be. The collateral damage should not be collateral damage, but this is the way it works with people sometimes. I am still myself, he is still him, and doomed to be him for the rest of his life.

I've been avoiding this English paper up until now, but I'm finding it, like I usually do with English papers, therapeutic to write. I am thankful for that. Now to get some food in my body, until next time...