If ever the blog should fall again to people stealing my money, please to advise that I do have a twitter that would give you a pretty good idea what the topic would have been that day. I don't bite over that, and I do reciprocate following with non-spammers/non-pornstars/non-prostitutes.

1) I can't believe The Exorcist, the novel by William Peter Blatty, has sat unread on my shelf for at least 13 years, probably longer. I loved it. The only reason I put it down was because of work, as I was strongly cautioned not to bring the book back to work to read on my lunch break. Stupid spoiled kids. The novel is beautifully written, with slight shifts in style depending on whether the subject was Chris MacNiel, Damien Karras, or the police lieutenant. Very, very subtle technique to explore faith versus doubt, and terrifying, to boot. Far greater than the film, though there was no way to really capture that book as a film and really stay true to the material.

2) I also saw Bruno with my brother. I enjoyed it for what it was. Honestly, I went to see Cohen's acting and was not disappointed. Unlike Borat, the man did not break once, even when everything was consistently exploding in his face thanks to certain groups of people making it their mission to call out his stunts whenever they could find him and wreck his film. If these big events weren't almost all ruined and cut short, the film would have easily been better. What's left is a frenetic mix of gags more like Da Ali G show than a workable narrative film.

3) Harry Potter and the Curious Case of the Awful Romantic Comedy. Too much lovey-dovey, not enough batshit crazy Bellatrix. And I got my hopes up way too high after HBC was allowed to act in her first scene.

4) As I said on the Twitter, apparently some counselors that don't like me from last year have taught their kids a simple way to tell the difference between me and another specialist: he's the chubby one, I'm the fat one. Now, let's go a little deeper: the "chubby" one is a lacrosse player for a major American university - he is jacked, very tan, and three inches taller than me; there is no way you could call him chubby. I'm exceptionally pale, chubby, shorter, and stay inside a cabin all day playing keyboard, guitar, wind instruments, and percussion to programs surrounding Radio Disney. I think there were other ways to teach the kids our names and I'm this close to throwing the one who started it in the toxic lake with condoms floating in it. I don't think anyone would blame me.

There's also a horrible epidemic at the camp: counselors are being fired because parents are calling up to lie to the directors. In two weeks, at least 5 counselors have been kicked out for anything from "he was mean to me" to "she said I was a bad child." Here's the catch: there are at least 3 counselors traveling with every group of kids. Wouldn't it make sense to ask the other two counselors what happened instead of firing someone on the basis of a first grade's sense of reality? The camp is cheap; that's the real reason for the mysterious layoffs.

I've been informed by parents that I'm an awful human being running music and drama like a boot camp. How dare I ask their child to stand up and play limbo on the Luau Day, or to please stop punching my guitar because it could break? What a monster. I know. I'm a horrible, horrible person and should never work with children again. After all, it's just music and drama - one told me I'd have to be a fag to actually believe children needed arts.

And that's my life for the next four weeks. Wonderful. I'm no longer allowed to ask everyone to participate, as that's too much of an attack. I have to start the activity and work with whatever students decide to not try jumping out the windows or piss in the corner. Worst of all: my cabin is the same cabin as the office of the camp; they can clearly see I've done nothing wrong yet I keep getting dressed down because of anonymous complaints about music and drama being taught at all in a sports camp. I didn't make the position, and I'm not going to half-ass it and feel guilty that students interested won't be allowed to do anything.

Tomorrow, I'll show up again 30 minutes before they'll even pay me, be yelled at for showing up too early, then proceed to make sure all my personal equipment is set up and ready to go for the first group of spoiled children who are so special they are always right no matter what they do.