Ode to Narcissism

Just because.

The Guy and I decided to watch a DVD tonight after a very short excursion to a bar (where I officially ended my one full week of no alcohol with a Margarita). So, we bought Eastern Promises. During the commercials (you know, the preview trailers in the beginning of DVDs), the trailer for Reservation Road came on. The track playing through the trailer is Damien Rice’s “Grey Room” (from 9). I just recovered from a months-long Damien Rice immersion (meaning: I listened to Damien Rice and nothing but for a few months). During this Damien Rice immersion, I had a rather unfortunate experience involving a guy (big surprise there). Essentially it was a hook-up gone horribly, horribly wrong. And I mean this in the most melodramatic way possible. I overreacted, causing a perfectly acceptable hook-up to go completely and totally wrong. It’s not completely my fault - but I should’ve known better and I should have been better able to cope. And I wasn’t. And this little event has caused me quite a bit of embarrassment. There is a Damien Rice connection here. I won’t go into the details, because they are boring and typical and personal and something I really don’t want to relive at the moment. The key here is distance and contemplation. Contemplation from afar. You get the idea. And I am well aware of what this implies - and you’re on the right track. Anyway, as much as I love Damien Rice, I haven’t really been able to listen to him without feeling a little pang of… regret. No, not regret. Pain. Not crippling, mind-numbing pain… just a little sliver of pain. So, this is what I thought about for a small part of my day.

So, thank you for that, Damien Rice. It’s not your fault - but you definitely had a part. Indirectly.

Eastern Promises was good. Very good. And Viggo was amazing (not unexpected).

I also spent a small part of my day remembering the Zidane headbutt from the last World Cup. You know, the one where Marco may or may not have insulted Zidane’s mother and/or sister, causing Zidane to headbutt him during the 2006 FIFA World Cup. This was due to a conversation concerning violence in sports. And my love of soccer - specifically (and get ready for this, because it’s going to make a lot of soccer fans hate my guts) my love of the Italian team. I’m obsessed with Buffon. Ok, that’s enough of that.

Two specific thoughts that occurred to me today:

1. Why does the nice guy always finish last?

2. I want to kill the part of me that gets sentimental over Damien Rice songs per their connection to unpleasant (or pleasant, but sadly-ended) experiences.