06 May 2003 - 12:20 a.m.

Man, I swear, I wanna be a genius so bad it hurts.

That's not a song title or anything, I'm just saying it.

I can't stop thinking about how Fellini was jsut so fucking cool, and trying to figure out if I could ever possibly be so revered without actually making films. Which is not something I want to do, so I guess I'd better pick some other outlet for being revolutionary.

I asked Are-Aitch-Etc. today if he wanted to see a draft of my thesis before the big turn-in in 6 days and 40 minutes. When I told him I would be relying on Are-Tee for line edits, he laughed and said that no draft would be necessary because the chances of him wanting to see a major revision of anything I wrote was too slim to be even worth the effort of reading it twice.

Which I took to mean either:

a.) my stuff is so plain-vanilla I can count on A's and mild approval forever

or

b.) in typical Are fashion, flattery and niceness were used to draw attention away from the fact that he's not really that interested in reading my thesis even once, and no way does he want to be responsible for major input.

Whatever. If I could get away with crap like that and still have all the ladies heart me, I wouldn't feel bad about it.

What I'm wearing: T-shirt, duck pants.

What I'm reading: Nino Rota, "La Dolce Vita"

What I'm doing after this: Contemporary Southern Lit. paper