[A heaping helping of duh]
So apparently graduation is Sunday, not Saturday. I'm completely fucking oblivious, as usual. And I even remember reading the invitation. A couple of times. Never registered. And two months ago when I asked off for Saturday, I double-checked the date for the ceremony on MTSU's site and noted that they had it set for the 14th. I figured it was a typo because, you know, I'm always right. Oy.

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Last night I watched The Machinist, which is sort of a Waking Life meets Pi meets Memento concoction of repulsive imagery and fractured storylines. Christian Bale's emaciated body is truly the raison d'etre of this film, because there's, as far as I can discern, no real moral other than "unconfronted guilt can eat you alive." Oh wait, I guess there was a moral after all.

There is something to be said for dedication to your craft, but Bale is clearly insane. Just look. The whole film seems -- aesthetically at least -- to be an homage to industrial rock. Trevor Reznik? That sounds so close to another prominent name I know that I can almost taste the leather-wrapped rusty metal.

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Monday night I'm going to a candlelight vigil at Graceland for Elvis, whose death anniversary is Tuesday. This will be, I feel, a most proper introduction to Graceland for me, as I've never been. It's free, and I suspect the people-watching will be superb. If you can't be there, you can always watch the vigilcast that will be streaming on Elvis's website.