Secret diary of a film nerd

Things I've learned this week:

I've learned that not many people know how to pronounce synecdoche. Boy will they have trouble with Charlie Kaufman's directorial debut. For those of you playing at home, it's like this: see-neck-dough-key. There we are. Now if only we could all remember what it means when we walk out of class.

I've learned I can actually make my incredibly boring essay about international media and cultural imperialism a 2000 word ode to Michel Foucault's analysis of the subject and power.

And that if Michel Foucault could be reincarnated as Robert Pattinson I would marry him in an instant.

I've learned from finally reading The Intimate Adventures of a London Call Girl that deep down, men just want the same thing; to come in a high-class hooker's mouth.

I've learned that my office can seem a lot like the panopticon. Foucault is the gift that keeps on giving. Sigh.

I've learned that once Safety Dance gets stuck in your head, not even New York Telephone Conversation can absorb it.

I've learned that if I want to be a fan of the Kills I have to listen to Alison Mosshart coughing up her lungs on at least one track of each album. Ah, but it seems such a very small price to pay...

I've learned that the extent to which I am impulsive refers solely to impulse purchases.