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A time to gather stones together
by anna at 08:40 PM on September 07, 2003
I’m not one for nostalgia. I think it’s like golf, something you engage in when you’re old, gray, constipated and rooting through your medicine shed in search of remedies. Besides, if you did reminisce honestly, you’d have to admit that most of the time you were bored to tears.
We sure were when my friends and I decided to shoot a movie in high school. Basically The Sephiroth Monster was a handy excuse to cut one of those dull cultural studies classes they started having in the 70s. It had a rudimentary plot, your basic monster is terrorizing a community and eating its less savory elements until the good guy rides in on a motorcycle and saves the day type of deals. The sound track came courtesy of The Doors, Led Zeppelin and Cream. We broke up scenes with time-lapse photography of sunsets and sunrises. The acting could only be described as atrocious. It was a smash hit.
But I’m not here to tout our stupid movie. For years we idly wondered what had become of it. The guy who directed either fell or got shoved overboard from a shrimping boat. Prior to that he’d entrusted his brainchild to his kid brother, who is now a personal injury attorney in LA.
A couple years ago one of those rah-rah, good old days sorts of guys from my circle was released from prison and immediately hunted down the director’s brother. Sure enough, he produced a neatly labeled canister. Therein was The Sephiroth Monster in all its ragged glory. George (a.k.a. Mumbles, Secret Squirrel) set about the monumental task of restoring it and recasting it in video format. He enhanced the sound track with CD versions of those old ditties. Then he made ten copies and invited us all to gather for a reunion, promising a Big Surprise. It was held at a downtown bar so ritzy none of us could afford to order cocktails. I must say we were all floored that he’d gone to all that trouble and expense over something we’d forgotten all about.
For the longest time I refused to view it. I didn’t know why, but I had this strange sense of foreboding about the whole thing. Finally I broke it out and popped it into our VCR. My son and I watched in slack-jawed silence as it wound inexorably toward its foregone conclusion.
All those young, fresh faces so full of hope, promise and carefully cultivated peach fuzz! The wayward sons and daughters of my town’s elite upper crust, no less! Our flubbed lines and those stilted action scenes, including the one where the hero rides my Honda 70 minibike across a weed-choked field with makeshift lance in hand! Me, playing a bartender who gets shot and falls to the ground with catsup smeared all over my chest! That infamous bong and beer party scene! Long since-leveled landmarks looming in the background!
Me: So, what did you think? Ian: Dude, no offense but that’s the lamest thing I’ve ever seen in my life. The Rug Rats made a better movie and they’re not even real. *peers at me suspiciously* Were you guys on dope?
Well son, that depends on how you define dope.
Most of the cast has since either died violent or bizarre deaths, gotten incarcerated or gone bonkers.
Prior to that we’d all gone on to form a far-flung criminal enterprise headed by George; who now works in mergers and acquisitions and visits Cuba regularly. Secretive as ever, he won’t say why.
But I can assure you of this: The modern concept of a “quarter life crisis” never once crossed our minds. At age 25 we were all living large and brimming with false optimism. We’ll never be tied down or obsess over such mundane matters as coaster use or credit card balances, we were sure. The very notion of a career was anathema to us. Then it all collapsed like a house of cards.
There is something hauntingly primordial about people you know who just up and die, especially if it happens in your arms as it did with the star of the movie. At first you think it’s all a big misunderstanding but then the reality sinks in. The French probably have a word for that sinking feeling, maybe a la mort or something.
Good for them. All I know is I'll never watch that movie again. It is simply too sad to ponder all that squandered potential. I shall throw it away, real soon.
comments (10)
What a sad story, Anna.
by jean at September 8, 2003 4:33 AM
What's even sadder is to listen to these guys wax all nostalgic about the good old days that weren't.
by anna at September 8, 2003 6:53 AM
1.) re: the good old days that weren't: If someone wakes from a dream with a sense of happiness because of what they experienced in that dream, should they be looked on with pitty for being happy about something that doesn't/didn't exist?
Perhaps a qualifier is required, "I know the past sucked, but for some reason I have fond memories of it."
2.) Re: false optimism: Is false optimism equal to knowing the situation sucks, but lying to yourself about it? Or is it having a positive outlook, but then experiencing a negative outcome.
Optimism that doesn't pan out doesn't strike me as false.
by chris at September 8, 2003 1:56 PM
Ah, missed you Chris.
Anna, this was definitely powerful. Wow.
by Linz at September 8, 2003 2:52 PM
Thanx, Linz. I'm glad you liked it. But you know, the few times I've revealed much about myself or my past here it doesn't provoke much of a response and I wonder why.
And yes, Chris seems to lurk for long periods and then pop up up with astute, thought-provoking observations. Chris, you are the person! Sometimes gender-neutral phrasing just doesn't work.
Maybe "naive" or "misplaced" would have been more apt than "false" cuz it wasn't false at the time in question. We were sure of it.
by anna at September 8, 2003 5:32 PM
let the revelations come.
i agree that personal disclosures can often lead to less overall posts, but let that not sway you. typically, your commentary posts only generate more feedback because they often pose a question, or bring up something nefarious. but your personal anecdotes are more compelling. that and you used the alternate catsup spelling, which must be worth something. to someone.
by lajoie at September 8, 2003 8:33 PM
Anna, I think that posts this personal tend to make some people nervous. Most people I know aren't ready to put this kind of information, about themselves, out there for others to pick apart. I also think some people find things of this nature hard to comment on due to either not having lived anything remotely close to this or not wanting their demons to surface during their comment thus putting themselves out there for inspection also.
That being said, I feel you on this post. When I go home to my Dad's house and look through my high school yearbooks or old pictures of young smiling faces having fun together I feel the same sense of loss. Friends that have died untimely due to shady dealings and why I escaped and they didn't. I try not to dwell on it too much. It really brings me down.
by Ezy at September 9, 2003 10:45 AM
Ezy, you know more about this than I'll get into here. Suffice it to say George beat charges of CCE, which carries a life sentence. And yeah, it's difficult to put yourself out there like that but once in a while I find it cathartic. I just hope readers enjoy it and don't squirm with embarassment like I do when I reread it.
by anna at September 9, 2003 7:20 PM
No Anna, it was great. Really, really poignant. That's an essay surpassing any column I've read in, say, any magazine, lately.
I haven't had to go through seeing my childhood friends die (except one or two, and that from illness), but I do think about what happened to our youthful hope and energy sometimes. We made some video projects in high school... and watching them, I see the same thing you did, a bunch of kids on top of the world; anything could happen, we could all be kings; we were all kings in training. But a decade later, none of us are. We're not even princelets. Well, maybe the ones in medical school are. Around here, doctors walk on water. Anyways, you can look at it as a failure, if you want. Or you could look at other measures of success, such as the gain of personal knowledge and wisdom, the gain of more and truer friends and/or significant others, the gain of the skills needed to navigate the adult world. Why don't we give ourselves credit for now being able to accept a compliment, say no to someone kindly, explain work issues to both the intern and the CEO, or do our own taxes? How about credit for arguing with our parents 50% less? Those are all great accomplishments. There are people out there who have a mansion and a bottomless checkbook, who don't have those things. So who's won? And who's lost? Who knows?
I recently bumped into a girl I'd known from grade school through college, but whom I hadn't seen in years. I remember in senior year we swore that someday she'd be a world-famous photographer and I'd be a world-famous writer, and we'd work at National Geographic together and travel the world. So I'm working for $10 an hour and she's working at the local bookstore. But are we truly failures? Have we truly not used any of our potential at all?
by jean at September 10, 2003 4:31 AM
Now that's poignant, Jean. But if we slap each other on the back any more, someone might mistake us for Hollywood stars.
by anna at September 10, 2003 6:55 AM