Week One Of Unemployment: Nightmares, Apartments, & Serial Killers

Just think: this time last week I was a productive member of society, a part of the Great Machine that sucks the marrow from our bones and the light from our eyes until we are hollow shells of the human condition. Now I'm just unemployed.I am, however, no longer homeless. Yes, I found an apartment. A very tiny studio apartment in the East Village. I have no dishwasher, laundry facilities, or microwave. Oddly enough, I have a small walk-in closet. It will be fine. I am a small girl, and except for my frightening collection of books and DVDs, I'll be able to squeeze in no problem. So that's done. On the downside, the job hunt is growing a bit desperate. Nobody wants to hire someone with no qualifications besides a liberal arts degree, and no skills save the ability to read fast and make snarky comments.It's weird to realize that the scariest movie I have ever seen will probably never be viewed by the general public. I saw it at the Tribeca Film Festival with my friend Enne - The Poughkeepsie Tapes. Now, I could describe the movie to you. But it doesn't really sound scary if I do that. It sounds like a clever, forgettable film. You really had to be sitting in the theater, watching grown men running up the aisles, and women covering their faces and sobbing, and me and Enne sitting in our seats, literally shaking with fear. If you get a chance to see this film, I beg you to take it. It is the scariest film I have ever seen.Why am I talking about it? Not because the filmmakers have paid me to, although they really fucking should, simply because of how much this movie has damaged me. The therapy bills alone are astronomical. I get freaked out at GAS STATIONS, for fuck's sake. Due to this movie, I'm also afraid of* Video cameras* Cars* Basements* Amputees* Saran Wrap* Masks* Poughkeepsie, New YorkThe reason I'm harping on this film is because last night I was unable to sleep at all due to it. I am aware of how fucking ridiculous this statement is. A scary movie kept me up all night.I mean, I'm 21. And I like horror movies. A lot. I am prepared for the zombie apocalypse. I've already got a list of people to use as human shields if need be (my roommate is at the top of the last. OK, she IS the list). But this movie scared the ever-loving shit out of me. And, all these months later, it continues to genuinely frighten me. And last night, the movie kept playing on loop in my head, probably as punishment for something awful I did. For whatever reason, I kept remembering scenes from the movie, and ended up lying curled up in bed all night, convinced a serial killer was going to come, kidnap me, and do horrible things to me in a basement.When my brother got up around six and came into my room to watch TV, I screamed and threw a pillow at him, thinking he was the serial killer. I may need to increase my preparation for the zombie apocalypse. Pillows frighten no one. Unless you are allergic, in which case you probably aren't a serial killer. Did Ted Bundy have allergies? Certainly some serial killers must have had them - they're quite common. But we never hear about that. Strange. I wonder if John Wayne Gacy forced his victims to remove all cat hair from their bodies. Or if Ed Gein had to use nose spray before dismembering people, depending on the season.But I digress. The bottom line is, I am tired and paranoid and neurotic, and I blame it entirely on this scary fucking movie.I just did a quick internet search, and the film will be released in February of 2008. I'm glad, for one. We need more fucking scary movies, as opposed to just gross one (like Saw). And I WILL go see it again, even if it will reduce me to a sobbing pile of grey matter. But this documentary is brilliant, and truly terrifying. If you like horror movies, or serial killers, or good filmmaking, go.Yes, I will probably write more about this film as the release draws closer. Because I am that damaged. Also, the more people see it, the bigger my support group can eventually become! May the serial killer not come to your home. If he does, may you not give him my address in exchange for your own life. That shit is not cool.- LV

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