crush with eyeliner

So I've been doing double duty: I've been reading depressing comics (Maus, Miracleman, Transmetropolitan) and listening to depressing music (The Cure, Weezer's Pinkerton, The Outfield).

No, you don't really think "depressing" when you think "the Outfield". You think more along the lines of "slightly annoying British power-pop band with a funny yet culturally-biased name". But listen to "Your Love" and tell me it's not really depressing:

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Josie's on a vacation far away,
Come around and talk it over
So many things that I wanna say
You know I like my girls a little bit older
I just wanna use your love tonight
I don't wanna lose your love tonight

I ain't got many friends left to talk to
Nowhere to run when I'm in trouble
You know I'd do anything for you
Stay the night but keep it under cover
I just wanna use your love tonight
I don't wanna lose your love tonight
Try to stop my hands from shaking
but something in my mind's not making sense
It's been a while since we were all alone
but I can't hide the way I'm feeling

As you're leaving please would you close the door
and don't forget what I told ya
Just cos you're right that don't mean I'm wrong
Another shoulder to cry upon
I just wanna use your love tonight
I don't wanna lose your love tonight
Use your love
Lose your love
Your love

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And it doesn't help that I'm having to watch John Hughes movies for a grade. "Pretty in Pink" is the most depressing movie ever made, at least for dorks like me.

You see, every John Hughes movie is the same: the entire thing builds the dork (in this case, Duckie, Jon Cryer) to the point where he can rescue the heroine (Molly Ringwald, Andie) from the abuse the outside world hurls on her (Blane seemingly rejecting her). Then, patented swerve time, it turns out the jock doesn't despise her after all, and the dork is forced to step outside becasue he loves her so much he would rather she be happy than him.

Jocks love this movie, because it makes them feel better about themselves, because, hey, pretty people have problems too.

Dork sympathizers think it's great because the dork is treated as a hero.

Dorks hate the movie and would spit on the grave of John Hughes if possible, because we get enough of this shit in real life, and we don't need to spend $7.50 plus popcorn fees to feel rejection.

Inside the heart of every dork beats the pulse of a hardened warrior, who wants nothing more than to kill an animal, grill it, and eat it fresh from the bone, preferably while impregnating several women along the way.

Movies like "Pretty in Pink" only serve to remind us that we are still dorks. And we apparently lack that little je ne sais quoi that would allow the aforementioned access to killing, grilling, and devouring small woodland creatures.

And we will end up Duckies, not Blanes, because we are sadly not named after major appliances.

Depressing, ain't it? Maybe not. I really need to take up recreational drug use.

I am smitten
I'm the real thing (I'm the real thing)
Have you seen her come around?
My crush with eyeliner