21 April 2008
While My Memory Gently Weeps
On my pitiful memory for names, particularly actors.
What people think about when they’re lying in bed at night: family, the war on terror, elections, bills, the monster under the bed, why oh why did she leave me?, would it really be so bad if I was dead?, I think I forgot to let the cat out.
What I think about when I’m lying in bed at night: What the hell was that actor’s name? The one that played the professor… I know him, I love him, but what the fuck is his name? He was in Meet the Fockers too, he was that idiot’s dad. He has a really distinctive voice. He’s the fucking Rain Man! He was in Finding Neverland too, not that I’d ever admit I’ve seen that. I’m sure it starts with a D. David? Nope. Maybe it doesn’t start with a D. No, I’m sure it does. D-something. Fuck!
And so on, ad infinitum.
And then I wake up in the morning, and I’m all “DUSTIN HOFFMAN”, but I can’t remember why, and I’m an hour late for class.
This is what my life is like. All the time.