half fiction, half documentary.

just got home from seeing the ring with marissa. i was totally freaked out while sitting in the theatre but as soon as we walked out, i felt better all around. it's weird how fictional terror pales in comparison to reality these days. last night nimmy & i watched a pbs documentary on the political history of liberia (called "liberia: america's stepchild" --wtf?) & it was much more horrifying than any urban legend come true. directly following, we watched life & debt which details the more recent economic history of jamaica, contrasting the shiny tourist industry (with narration adapted from jamaica kincaid's a small place) with the poverty & breakdown of jamaica's industries & workers, brought about by the "help" of the imf/world bank. there is something so discouraging & disheartening about feeling so much anger & injustice & simultaneously feeling as though there's nothing to do about it.

and then i come home to discover that another transkid was murdered & even the news about it is fucked up in so many ways.

fiction has nothing on real life. nothing.