Dear May,
I don't much recall how you started. I'm sure you did start because it's June now and I definitely remember the end of you. But the beginning is a little fuzzy. In fact, I'm not even particularly sure I remember April all that well. But such are neurons (or lack thereof).
What I do recall is me finally getting around to going to Knoxville and visiting mom and friends. Well, friend. I don't really like to shout out my arrival when I'm in Knoxville. I find that I never have much time nor desire to drive while there. And, let's face it, Knoxville isn't the most exciting place on earth. At least it's a place. Though it would be far more interesting if it were on mars or Saturn. (Saturn was one of my favorite planets when I was a kid because it was always depicted with rainbow rings. I liked rainbows and it was the only one with rings. I liked uniqueness. Imagine my disappointment when I found out that Neptune also had a ring. But Neptune was always a poser in my mind. It just wished it were as memorable as Uranus. [Oh, and another of my favorite planets? Pluto. Yeah, I don't like talking about that, actually]).
I told mom of my severe reactions to her cigarette smoke in the way my therapist told me to. Apparently I was afraid of nothing. She compromised while I was there and I downed allergy pills as to not have an overreaction to any allergens from the irritation of the smoke smell.
Mom got me a cake for my birthday. I couldn't have but one piece. It had dairy, you see. And, until proven innocent by a trained physician, it's guilty of causing most of my intestinal problems, mood swings, and acne. That's right, I'm blaming dairy on unseasonal PMS. At least it's not as messy...well.
I think mom has a hard time with the strictness of my diary free diet. I think she has a hard time with change in general. She's gone through a lot, though. She might be set in her ways, but she's a phoenix who's set in her ways. Better an old phoenix than a pile of inactive ashes.
May, you were also the month when I discovered The Doors. This is all thanks to my obsession for Steve Buscemi. About three degrees from it, at least.
Steve Buscemi has been in a few of Tom DiCillo's movies. Tom DiCillo is a man who I've seen on interviews since and has always delighted me with his intense passion and mane-like hair. Reminds me of mine, actually. At any rate, Tom made a documentary about the Doors called "When You're Strange." I was excited because this will have been my first Tom DiCillo movie that I've seen in a theatre. So, regardless of my lack of knowledge about the band, I went and saw the movie.
I procrastinated, putting it off until the last moment. The last showing on the last day that it was in the BelCourt I arrived at the theatre. When I got back from seeing the movie I had this to say on Tom DiCillo's blog .
I had this to say:
Hey Green,
Thanks for the journey to Nashville and inside your brain.Do you not have any “thrift store best”? I do, still. One item is a country/western tuxedo jacket from the 50’s I bought in 1977 for $4.25. I’m wearing it in the photo above which was taken last month.
I’m glad you managed to suffer through all this and the spiky hairs too to watch the film. I really appreciate it. I can tell you got the film. Some do, some don’t. But your observations give evidence to your dropping in.
As far as your passion–well, look at it this way. Something motivated you to write what may be the longest comment in the history of this blog. Don’t get me wrong, I kept it all in and enjoyed every word. I’m just saying don’t count yourself out in the motivation area.
The other thing I might add is that emotion and passion in their rawest forms are very powerful things. As an artist of any kind it is here in these messy, uncensored depths that you will find the greatest source of your own thrumming truth.
Most of the time emotion and passion are bastardized, romanticized, sanitized and American Idolized into a 1000 tons of frozen Hostess Twinkies crammed in a 1 pound bag.
But, in their truest form emotion and passion are indeed formidable and frightening.
They should be; the truth always is.
I thank you sincerely for an amazing read.
best,
Tom
So there was that. And then there was my birthday shindig. And it was a true shindig at that, May. Bravas are deserved for my friend for putting it all together at last minute. Calling me and saying "So, I've invited people over and I'm making food," was probably the best call I've ever received.
And it was a good shindig. We watched Wall-E and part of The Big Lebowski while eating mostly cooked hamburgers and drinking very good wine. No one got drunk or too high and it was nice and chill. We even had some Doors on in the background. It was a very good end to the month. For that day I put aside everything my heart was heavy on and just was. It makes me wonder why I'm not able to do that all the time. And then I freak out some more.
Sincerely,
Green
From a Nashville Cinema
To be honest, the Belcourt isn’t a place that I feel at home. On the nights I’ve gone before the independent film theatre has been littered with trendsters, people who come in their thrift store best to see films that have been put on a cultural map and deemed necessary to watch to survive intellectual existence on this earth. Then again, I’m just as ego-driven as the rest of them. And I’m definitely not bitter. And definitely not sarcastic.
Going to the Belcourt at night is scary. People who I think are looking at me scare me. People who wear fantastic clothes and spikey hair scare me. Then again, social phobias have always been my hobby. I like to hyperventilate to the thrum of people texting. I like the word “thrum.”
But I digress.
My trip to the Belcourt this time was to see your movie. I went alone for the first time. I was a little anxious. But in daylight the Belcourt is friendlier (though the scowl from the beer counter was none the friendlier–I tried smiling, I really did!). I didn’t get alcohol. (Though I did ponder drinking wine. But pulled an elitist move by being appalled at the plastic cups that were set aside for the wine.) It was 6pm and I went on the last showing of the last day. A true procrastinator.
I came 30 minutes early because I was paranoid of being late. I read Belcourt tri-fold pamphlets that told about their upcoming and current movies. I read about becoming a member for a quarter of my weekly salary. I met a friend outside and he told me his mom wanted to see your movie in Phoenix. I told him it was the last showing here. He was bummed, but had other things to do.
When I finally shuffled into the theatre (new seats paid for by donations) I sat in the nearly back row. The seats behind me were under a shelf of darkness so I passed on the very last row. I had a conversation with a guy who had some sort of accent and was wearing a fedora. I watched the patrons enter.
I think it’s amazing how “When You’re Strange” attracted so many age groups. 20ish, 30ish, 40ish, 50ish all peppered the theatre. They filled every section a little bit. And if I only glanced it was as if the theatre was completely packed. But I liked it better peppered.
I admit, I knew nothing about The Doors before I watched this movie. People had to keep reminding me beforehand that Johnny Depp was doing the narration, as well. I kept forgetting. And I continued to forget all the way through the movie. His voice was a narrator, not a famous actor.
I really did enjoy the movie. Though I did quickly realized that not knowing the subject matter before hand inhibited some more emotional pulls in the documentary, the movie still held an intrigue enough to keep me involved. Everything about it was new and I felt like I was discovering this story in a very solid way. Like, if you were to take a prerequisite course in Spanish and you came out with a broad concept of the language and a desire to learn more.
I realized that the majority of songs I have in my head are from The Doors. I also realized that the next CD I need to buy (yes, I still buy CDs) will be a Doors CD.
From someone who had really no concept of who the band was, who Jim Morrison was, and what an era really looked like; I was incredibly impressed by your movie. And, furthermore, it impressed upon me. Because ultimately, yes, it was about the band but it was also about the era. It’s actually been an era I’ve more than once found drawn to and apparently I’ve been drawn to The Doors as well.
Whenever I hear you talk about your films on interviews or in extras on DVDs I never miss hearing the passion in your voice. I often find myself without the motivation to become passionate, or with fear of becoming too passionate. But I suspect that you put a lot of work into this film and hope that you are as proud of the product as I am happy to have seen it.
More power to ya. Can’t wait to see what’s next.
-green