A Window to the Past: I Get Mad Watching French Films


One day, I will find this man and punch him in the mouth.

As I mentioned in an early post, I despise artsy films. I hate them and wish that only bad things happened to their directors. I wish for all the food in their fridge to rot and their wines to somehow go bad.

But anyway, recently while I was looking for old writing samples, I came across something that reminded me of all the pain I once went through. I found the assigned blog that I had to maintain for my French New Wave class at Wayne State.

It’s all pretty bad; you easily can see where I stop giving a damn about it as the movies drove me insane. I begin to curse and swear and demand the head of Jean-Loc Godard, then cool down when I realize that I do need to write halfway decent stuff to get a good grade in the class.

(Well, it might not be that dramatic, but I do curse a lot towards the middle.)

So here it is!

http://antoninlooksatfrenchflicks.blogspot.com/

Looking at it, I wondered how the hell I got an A in the class, though it may have something to do with how I noticed that the professor (a married man) was always hanging around young girls on campus and taking them out to dinner……

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2 Comments to “A Window to the Past: I Get Mad Watching French Films”

  1. “Looking at it, I wondered how the hell I got an A in the class, though it may have something to do with how I noticed that the professor (a married man) was always hanging around young girls on campus and taking them out to dinner…… ”

    This reminds me of a certain professor I had who was dating this girl I knew. She asked me to keep hush about it and I did. As far as I could tell I didn’t get any special treatment out of it. I think the teaching assistant did most of the grading… Still it made the remainder of the class a little awkward.

    “Possibly related posts: (automatically generated)
    * Regret
    * Pain”

    lol

  2. You see, Antonin, some times those films are intended to induce those kinds of emotions and draw from, like a well, the passion from your emotional ego that dwells within you. Could also be related to smoking a cigarette, you light and first draw from it, feelings of joy and happiness emerge. You proceed further, those feelings intensify and distill in a concentration of more complicated notions like freedom and contentment. But once you reach the end—when the end is finally reached—those thoughts you had crash, crumble, disintegrate into little pieces of memory, memory of only the fact that something existed in its place.

    But who am I kidding?? I give you the A because I could relate to you Antonin. Your posts were inspiring, conjured feelings that I let remain dormant–your words, were my cigarette. Those draws of the cigarette incited feelings of hate and disgust for the films, enough to spit on them. Giving you the A, was just solidification of the foundation of the newly formed emotional ego inside of me….

    …And you caught me with my pants around my ankles.

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