Suspiria

Last night I was watching the film Suspiria, a 1977 horror film directed by Dario Argento. The story, such as it is, revolves around a young American dance student (played by Jessica Harper) who goes to study ballet at a prestigious German dance academy. However on the night she arrives, two students are brutally murdered. As the new student settles in, she notices the mysterious disappearances of a number of other students as well as a range of bizarre happenings, which leads her to investigate the academy and it's dark history of witchcraft and the occult. There is not much story really, and what there is doesn't really make a lot of sense, instead the film is all about it's uniquely surreal and nightmarish atmosphere, utilizing bizarre camera angles and lighting the scenes in garish, vivid primary colours (especially reds, blues and greens), and ear-splitting music from rock band the Goblins (with contributions from Argento himself). The film also features some of Argento's most famous of his trademark gruesome set-pieces. It is probably the best of the Argento films.

I was off work today. Technically there is a strike on today, but I had already taken the time off on annual leave and so I still get paid! I went into Princes Street to meet my mum, who had vouchers for a free breakfast at a French restaurant called Cafe Rouge. It was a continental breakfast which meant a couple of differnet kinds of croissant and some crusty bread, After that we walked along to the Edinburgh Book Festival, where I bought the book Non-Fiction by Chuck Palahniuk. It's a collection of short non-fiction stories, essays and interviews from the weird and wonderful world of Chuck. Then we went to see the author Alan Sillitoe (author of Saturday Night and Sunday Morning and The Loneliness of the Long-Distance Runner). It was a really good talk, and very enjoyable.

After that we went along to the National Portrait Gallery to see an exhibition of celebrity portrait photographs from Vanity Fair magazine. Some of them were really good. After the exhibiton we went to a stand-up comedy show by comedian Andy Zaltzman which was really funny. Then we went along and had a prawn sandwich and coffee.

It's weird though but I noticed, and not for the first time, how much less worried mum is about stuff than I am. I worry about: being mugged, money, being murdered, getting beaten up, work, death, failure, my lack of success with women, being humiliated, being laughed at, my shyness, my weird voice, my ugliness, my awkwardness and my stupidity. This is all completely seriously how I think. I even worry that I worry too much. Seriously. A lot of the time I get too nervous to go places or do stuff. Mum doesn't worry about stuff, she even strikes up conversations and make jokes with complete strangers. I said to her, I wish I had her confidence. Sorry that a previously quite cheerful post degenrated into angsty nonsense about the inner workings of my mind, such as it is.