All in One Post: Therapy, "Losers," Sports Fans, General Health, The Oscars and Some People Don't Like Movies?

Chase Infiniti one of the possible Oscar nominees

One of the great things about therapy is that you get to ramble on for most of fifty minutes. You’ve got things on your mind? You need to let off steam? Go for it. At a twelve step meeting you’ve got a few minutes then you have to listen to other people babble on. My recent return to therapy has been healing in part because I‘ve been able to get so much of my chest. Talking or writing about what’s going on in your life allows you to gain a clearer picture of what’s happening inside your head. You can see the forest for the trees.

Don’t compare your lives to others unless the person in question is a total loser.

Speaking of “losers” our idiot of a president has frequently referred to individuals and groups as “losers.” It makes him sound like a thirteen-year-old but it also raises the question: what exactly is a loser? Is it simply someone who has a different worldview as you? Is it someone who has failed professionally or whose personal life is a mess? Is it someone who was or is demonstrably wrong about some central tenet? Maybe — and hear me out on this — the real losers are the people who use the word as a blanket term for people they disagree with. Ya know, like Trumpy.

Here’s a tip for you sports fan: if you get angry at the result of a sports event you’re doing it wrong. Are you really going to let what a twenty-two—year-old does on an athletic field ruin your day? Your team losing is really something to throw a hissy fit over? You really want to spend time assigning blame? I realize that you’ve put a significant emotional investment in your team’s success. You derive great joy and even pride in your team’s success, but that doesn’t mean you can’t take defeat with equanimity. It really honestly truly is “only a game” a much as it may feel like the most important thing in the world. Save your anger for the really important stuff like what Trumpy is doing to the country and the world. I speak on this topic as an expert having a couple of teams that I “live and die by.” I also watched my usually mellow father blow a gasket when his team would lose. Always confounded me. Sports should relieve stress, not compound it. 

As I write this it’s Friday morning. Always loved Fridays, last day of the work week. Plus on Friday’s I stop at the Coffee Hut across the street from work and get a decaf latte. Delicious. How my life has changed. Decaf coffee and non-alcoholic beer. A far cry from my younger days when I fueled my mornings with regular coffee then by the evening was drinking scotch or martinis or alcoholic beers. On some occasions I’d fortify myself with cocaine. I'd have laughed at the notion of decaf or non alcoholic beverages. 

In my twenties I was drinking and using, had an erratic diet, often got little sleep, sometimes went months without exercise. Yet I usually felt great. Today I miss an hour of sleep and I’m a wreck. Have ice cream after tacos and my tummy is in an uproar. Miss a few turns at the gym and I feel like a fat tub. So I’ve learned to take care of myself. Physical health is easier to maintain — barring serious illness or injury — than mental health. You have the proper diet, get enough sleep and have some form of exercise and you should be physically fine. But to maintain mental health can be a tough one. It’s so damn easy to fall into bad habits. Unconsciously. Stinkin’ thinkin’ it’s called in AA. Here’s a definition: “Coined by Alcoholics Anonymous to describe reverting to old habits, it's now used more broadly in therapy to identify thinking errors such as catastrophizing, overgeneralization, and black-and-white thinking, which can be managed by challenging and reframing these thoughts.” Maintaining mental health is not easy, especially if you have some condition like anxiety, depression, addiction or PTSD. I have them all!

A reminder that Oscar nominations will be announced in the coming weeks and you should — and I can’t stress this enough — by no means take them seriously. Many people watch the Oscars despite having seen only a few movies all year. Many watch without having seen a single film. Remember what George C Scott said about the Oscars:  "(it's a) two-hour meat parade, a public display with contrived suspense for economic reasons." Amen. Better to see a lot of films and skip the stupid show. That is if you love cinema. Speaking of cinema, have you ever met someone who doesn’t watch movies at all? I have too. Very strange. There’s a lot of things I can understand: not following sports, or not going to museums or eschewing nature, even not reading books, but movies? That seems such a universal art form. Between art films, blockbusters, musicals, romcoms, sci-fi, classics, noir, you can’t find anything you like? Strange. Like I said in my last post: it takes all kinds. 

Hallelujah! It's Time for Another Edition of Films I've Watched Lately Some of Which I Liked Greatly

The Commitments

The Commitments (1991) Parker. I love this movie. Doesn’t everybody? It’s nigh on impossible to watch without a broad grin on your face interrupted only by singing along with the film’s original and wonderful music. The Commitments is the story of an ambitious young man named Jimmy Rabbitte (Robert Arkins) in Northern Dublin who decides to form a soul band. To him the Irish are the blacks of Europe and Dubliners are the blacks of Ireland and Northerners the blacks of Dublin. He pulls together a seemingly motley crew including a lead singer with a temper and attitude, three female back up singers, a trumpeter with years of experience, a sax player, two guitarists, a pianist and a drummer who can’t get on with the lead singer so leaves and is replaced by their security guard who is also a hooligan with an even fouler temper than the singer. They make marvelous music together. The movie is about their rapid rise and even faster fall. The coming apart is inevitable rather than sad. They had a great ride and for many the group was a springboard. Just wonderful fun to watch rich with humor and great music.

It Was Just an Accident (2025) Panahi. So many movies that are released these days are they kind you forget about seconds after you leave the theater. However they’re still making pictures like It Was Just an Accident that stay with you for days after.  It’s a difficult one to write about without tossing up spoilers. It’s a story of revenge. Can you extract it when given the chance? Can you do to him what he did to you ? Is it justice or lowering yourself to his level? How far will you go to right a wrong? And it’s not just one person wrestling with these questions, there are others involved too. Achieving a group consensus on such thorny questions is difficult. The highly acclaimed Jafar Panahi directed. He knows of what he speaks having been a prisoner of the repressive Iraqi regime. Iraq forms the setting for a movie that the word compelling was coined for.

Rachael Getting Married (2008) Demme. Seventeen years and one day after seeing this movie in a theater I watched it again. Anne Hathaway stars but does not play Rachel. She is the bride’s sister, Kym, on leave from rehab. Goodness me but Ms. Hathaway played an addict to perfection. It takes one to know one so I’m quite confident in this assertion. Kym is only newly sober and being with her tempestuous family on such a big occasion is not ideal. But here we are, it’s a wedding and despite the fractiousness that plagues some of the family (much of it caused by Kym) she’s obliged to be there. Kym’s an addict. It’s all about her. She’s a coked up bovine in a china shop triggering everyone around her. But she was the character I most related to. The others were weirdly normal with all of their mundane idiosyncrasies, issues and agendas. When speeches are made and Kym’s goes on too long and becomes all about Kym -- I backed her all the way. Jonathan Demme directed this fine film which is — as much as anything else — an exploration of the personality of the addict. He got it right. Here’s what I wrote about when it was first in theaters and I last saw it in 2008.

The Battle of Algiers (1966) Pontecorvo. I’ve watched it twice recently and after this latest viewing promptly put it on my top 100 films of all time list. No, I don’t know why it wasn’t there before. As indicated in a recent post it’s a great film for us revolutionaries. You’d be excused for watching it and thinking that was part documentary or that actual footage from the revolution in Algeria in the late 1950s was used.  As I said in my recent post on “Films to Inspire you in the Coming Revolution”: "By giving voice to the French army it broadens the scope of the story and puts it into greater historical context. Insurgency, occupation and resistance have never been more compelling on the big screen." 

In a Lonely Place (1950) N. Ray. I got a strong recommendation to read the book of the same name upon which this film is based. Dorothy B. Hughes’ novel from 1947 is one of the better noir novels of its time and its time included the works of Raymond Chandler. The book is highly original, a captivating read and superbly told. The movie version is watered down, a pale comparison, badly altered, stripped of the book’s brilliance and a shallow husk of a movie. I don’t know that the great Humphrey Bogart was the right choice as the lead. I know that Gloria Grahame, as fine an actress as she was, was miscast. I also know I had a delightful time reading the book and was bored senseless by the movie. A lot of people like the film. No idea why.

The Mastermind (2025) Reichardt. The title character is not mastermind but he is smart. He’s also self-centered and thoughtless. He’s something of a misfit, a failure and you could get away with calling him a loser. He steals a few paintings easily enough but this is not a well-planned heist and he did not surrounded himself with the best and the brightest. It’s no spoiler to say the law is soon on to him. This is a helluva good film. I could tell when I looked at Rotten Tomatoes and saw that it had a 91% from critics and a 38% from the hot polloi. Your average Joe and Josephine no doubt were expecting to see a slick heist carried out by a daring hero with a gorgeous lover and eccentric and savvy accomplices. Instead they got a movie about a failure. It may not be for the mainstream but I think it another terrific film from director Kelly Reichardt whose got a slew of excellent films to her name (such as First Cow, Certain Women, Showing Up and Meek’s Cutoff).

Anyone Have Film of Me at a Party Circa 50 years Ago?

That's me, the party animal at age 23

How would I feel if there was film of me at a party when I was in my early twenties? What would it be like to see the younger me? Surely it would evoke some memories. But some of it might be cringe-worthy, especially if it was an occasion in which I’d drank too much. (There were many of those.)

I’d either be accompanied by a young woman or I’d be hitting on women left and right. Or — admittedly — both. How many of the people at the party would I recognize? How many could I name? What would I be talking about? Let’s see if I can guess…. Likely I’d be telling stories to amuse, to connect, to flirt. I’ve always been a good storyteller and I’ve always been funny. I was often “the life of the party” which means I made myself the center of attention and helped make parties better. Better how? More fun. I was the guy who got people dancing, or laughing. I brought energy. I discoursed on a variety of topics. Gossip. Sports. Politics. Film. 

It’s odd. I’m something of a misanthrope but I love people. I love being around others. Yet I’m judgmental. I like to watch people and let my imagination run wild and make backstories for them. People repel and fascinate and bore and interest me. I’m partial to woman. Have been ever since adolescence. 

Things were different when I was young because I was drunk half the time. More like seven-eights of the time if we’re talking about parties. And at parties I was always looking “to score.” I’ve always loved women. Been fascinated by them. In my youth I had lovers tell me that they could tell that I genuinely liked women and that many men really don’t. Still I tended to go from one relationship to another without so much as a by your leave. So, yeah, I was a cad in a lot of ways. I’d quickly fall in love with a woman and soon thereafter become interested in someone else.

But let’s get back to the footage of me at a party. I’d probably be struck by how damn cute I was. I wasn’t every girl’s cup of tea. Some women like taller, darker men. I’m short and blonde but a lot of young women loved my long blonde locks, my blue eyes and my athletic body. If I had shorts on women admired my legs. That’s a thing about getting old, for me, anyway, I miss my boyish good looks. Now I take pride in looking so much younger than I am. I hear that a lot from people that I look younger than I am. 

Fucking goddamned youth. I really enjoyed it. It’s a shame I was such an idiot at the time. Imagine doing it all over again with the wisdom I’ve acquired since then. Imagine all the mistakes I wouldn’t have made. I could have, would have still had a bloody good time but not stepped on so many toes. Not gotten blackout drunk. Not endured wretched hangovers. Not have squandered so much money. Taken my writing more seriously. You can drive yourself nuts with all that I should have done this, I could have done that crap. Here I am doing it again. Fucking regrets will kill you. Not literally. No, but they’ll damage your soul.

Anyway I survived the mistakes and learned a great deal along the way. Most of it too late to do me much good. 

I shouldn’t beat myself about my wayward youth. A lot was going against me. A stacked deck. Addiction. PTSD from a traumatic childhood. The drinking — in many ways — got me through a lot of pain. The cure eventually become a whole other problem. 

But let’s get back to the footage of me at a party. Better yet how about snippets from many parties from seventeen to twenty four. My heyday, so to speak.

What would I see? A good dancer for one. I played for laughs some of the time but for a white boy I had moves. That would be damn fun to watch. I wonder what kind of lines I used on women. I wonder what kind of jokes or funny stories I told. From early childhood I’ve been good at making people laugh. I wonder how charming I was, how glib. I wonder what kind of insights I had. 

I don’t have a lot of memories at parties (the drinking, of course). But I remember a few incidents. I remember meeting girls and successfully wooing them. I remember getting roaring drunk. I remember dancing. I remember people being damn glad to see me make it to a party and in some cases damn glad to see me go. I remember hosting parties, crashing parties. I remember huge outdoor parties and smaller intimate ones. I loved all kinds.

How fucking cool would it be to have film of me in action?  A piece of history. A reminder. Yeah, maybe embarrassing at times but  I could fast forward through those parts. 

The good ole days.

Clyde "Needs" a Drink, A Short Story of Early Recovery

Clyde wanted a drink. It had been a brutal day at the office capped off by a hellish commute. Apparently there’d been an accident on the bridge. Clyde hated sitting in traffic and he hated coming home late because of it. He was stewing. A tall glass of whiskey would do the trick. Take the edge off. Allow Clyde to relax, sink into his La-Z-Boy, zone out on the TV while waiting for Eva to finish dinner. A whiskey would do the trick, all right.

But no. There was no more whiskey or any other kind of booze in Clyde’s life. Not anymore. After twenty-five years of easing the pain through alcohol, Clyde was off the stuff for good. Too often that one drink had led to six, seven, eight, nine drinks. Too often Clyde had gotten blotto, blacked out, sometimes terrorizing Eva and the kids. She’d been on the verge of leaving him and taking the kids with her when he finally wised up and went to AA. He’d been sober for two months. He’d traded one problem for another. He was no longer a stinking drunkard but he no longer had a coping mechanism. Booze had gotten him into a lot of messes, but it had also gotten him through a lot of stress and anxiety.

Not getting high was difficult, managing life without booze seemed impossible. For the millionth time Clyde bemoaned the fact that he couldn’t stop at one or two drinks. Oh sure sometimes he had, but too often that second segued right into a bender. Trying to cut back never worked.

Tonight would be a good night to hit an AA meeting but Clyde just didn’t have the energy to get back in the car and drive for twenty minutes and sit for an hour then drive back home. That would be nearly two hours from what was left of his evening, and thanks to the commute from hell he had less evening than usual. No, he’d just sit here and stew. Maybe turn the damn TV on and see if that could distract him from the overwhelming desire to bolt out of the house to the nearest bar and have a good stiff one.

Eva emerged from the kitchen and sat down for what was obviously supposed to be a pleasant husband and wife chat. Such conversations were easier for Clyde back when he had a buzz going.

“Dinner’ll be ready in ten minutes, hon. So other than a lousy commute, how was your day?”

“Busy, stressful, nothing much to talk about, frankly.”

“You thought about about going to a meeting tonight?”

“God, Eva you can’t manage my sobriety I have to make those decisions myself, it’s up to me to stay sober.”

“Just asking.”

“Yeah, sure, I’m sorry. I’m just too tired tonight, I’ll go to that sunrise meeting in the morning and then hit one tomorrow night.”

“Would you rather not talk?”

“Eva….I just, I’m afraid this whole sobriety deal is making me a little cranky. I’m so used to having a drink after work to calm down. It’s hard, is all.”

“I love you Clyde.”

Clyde looked over at his wife. She was beautiful. Petite, tanned, wearing a short dress, looking more like thirty than the forty-five she actually was. Eva was smiling sweetly at him. Clyde realized how lucky he was.

“I love you too, Eva. Thanks for being so patient with me.”

“Your worth it.” She got up and kissed him on the forehead. “I’ll call you to dinner in a few minutes. Would you let the kids know we’re about to eat?”

Daughter Sela and son Declan were in their respective rooms. Clyde loved his children. Sela was fifteen and Declan thirteen and both had survived their Dad’s drinking bouts and still loved him. Clyde knew that the only way to stay sober was to do it for yourself, but Eva and the children were inspirations. They didn’t deserve a drunk in the house.

Clyde let the kids know to get ready for dinner and was headed for the kitchen himself when the phone rang. A phone call is not what he needed right now.

It was his damn boss, Ed Levit. Ed was a tough son of a bitch. Everyone at work respected the hell out of him, but not a soul liked him. How could you like a fella with such a tough exterior? 

Ed had never called Clyde at home before. Clyde was sure it was bad news.

“Sorry to call you at home, Clyde, but it’s something of an emergency. I had to let Ben Evans go today, I’m pretty darn sure he was skimming and I may look into criminal prosecution, but that’s not for you tell anyone. Anyhow, I need you to fill in for him at the meeting tomorrow, can you do that?”

“Sure I can.” Clyde was shocked to hear about Ben Evans but was pleased he’d be pinch hitting for him.

“So look the other part of this is that I’d like you to take Ben’s position. Before you say anything one way or the other you need to know that it’d mean more work and more responsibilities but another $100 a week in your paycheck plus a bigger year-end bonus. You can think about it overnight if you need to.”

Clyde did not need to think about it overnight or even for another second. “Sure, hell yes, a promotion. Don’t need to think about that.”

“Great, we’ll talk about it over lunch tomorrow. So the meeting’s at 9:00. See me about half an hour before and I’ll prep you.”

“You can count on me.”

“I know I can. Thanks, Clyde. Have a good night.”

“You too, boss. Good night.”

After hanging up Clyde literally jumped for joy.

The family talked about it over dinner. Everyone was delighted about the extra income but Eva was worried about the extra hours.

“Hell, it won’t be that much. Maybe a late day a couple of times a week, an hour, two at the most. A very occasional weekend I might have to go in. I can handle it. Just to make you feel better I’ll call my sponsor after dinner and like I said earlier I’ll hit two meetings tomorrow.”

Clyde did just that. He was going to take his sobriety one day at a time. Maybe he’d be okay.

I See a New Film Then Have a Chat With My 18-Year-Old Self

Maisy Stella and Aubrey Plaza in My Old Ass

Last week I saw an unfortunately titled film called My Old Ass, a recent release directed by Megan Park. Despite its title I quite enjoyed it. Aubrey Plaza is the lone “name” attached to the picture and she has precious little screen time. But she makes the most of it and it is obvious that Ms. Plaza has developed into a star and more importantly an important actress; if she’s not at top of her profession she doesn’t have far to go. My Old’s lead is a young lady named Maisy Stella and we should get used to that name because based on this performance she’s going to be gracing the big screen for years to come. The role called for an absolute darling and one with a very free and inquisitive spirit. Ms. Stella delivered.

My Old Ass is about an eighteen-year-old getting set to leave the family farm for the big city. While tripping on magic mushrooms she is paid a visit by her thirty-nine-year old self (Plaza). Insights, conversations, wit and wisdom all ensue. One of the highest possible accolades you can bestow upon a movie is that it got you thinking. My mind was awhirl before the picture ended, thinking about my wife and what a great love we’ve had and I was nearly in tears. 

In addition to it’s other charms, My Old Ass features The lakes of Muskoka, Ontario, Canada as a gorgeous co-star.

Naturally the film got me thinking of what kind of conversation I would have with my eighteen-year-old self. I thought it might go something like this…..

Hey kid. I’m you in the future.

I got old.

Beats the alternative.

This is really weird.

I’ve got advice for you.

Cool.

You’re going to be making a lot of mistakes and I wanted to help steer you away from them.

What kind of mistakes?

An endless variety. First of all you’ve got to be nicer to people.

I’m nice.

Superficially. Let me put it to you this way, think of how your actions affect other people. Always. Be thoughtful and considerate at all times. The merest comment, the slightest action can impact another person. And don’t be so selfish. Keep that ego in check.

Okay.

Another thing,  I don’t know if it’ll do any good to say this -but you should be careful with drugs and alcohol. 

I love to drink.

No kidding. Look you’re an addict and alcoholic. Fortunately you’ll end up in AA and will spend most of your life clean. But be careful with the stuff in the meantime. Some bad shit happens when you’re high.

Do I get hurt or something?

Not seriously but you’ll do a lot of things that will make you feel bad and some of which you wont remember the next day. Try to think of hangover as your body telling you that what you did the day before was not good for you.

All right. But lemme ask you, do I get married? Do I fall madly in love with someone who falls in love with me?

Yes, you’ll be very happy in that respect. 

Cool. 

You’re going to be lucky in life but things could go a lot smoother if you take my advice.

What else?

Be careful with money. You tend to spend it right away. It’s part of this general live-for-today ethos you have. You’ve got to think about the future more. I mean it’s fine to live in the present but especially when you’re young you should be looking ahead too. What am I going to be doing in a year, in five years, in ten years? You’re kind of a hedonist. Here’s something related: take school seriously. You don’t get off to such a great start in college, pretty soon booze and girls become far more important. Learn to balance things.

Makes sense.

You’ve got a lot going for you. You’re talented in several areas. You’re likable. Girls find you cute. You’re funny as hell and always will be. You’re smarter than you realize. You’re a good athlete. You’re a good writer. You’ve got gifts. Don’t waste them by fucking around all the time. And about writing, work at it everyday. Working at things is key.

I like to have fun.

Who doesn’t? But like I said, you need balance.

What happens with Dad?

He’ll be fine and live a long mostly happy life. Be extra nice to him.

How about Mom?

That’s been rough on you and will continue to be, there’s just no getting around that. You’re going to spend a lot of time working through the damage.

Shit.

It’s the reality. I wish I could help you.

It doesn’t sound like I become famous.

I don’t know if you can change the course of your life but I’ll tell you this, to be famous you need a plan. Start with this: what am I going to be famous for? When you decide, work towards it. Here’s some advice that you give others later in life: the bad news about life is that in order to succeed you have to work hard, the good news about life is that in order to succeed all you have to do is work hard.

So it’s all about hard work.

Yup. Something you’re ill-suited for but you’ve got to do it.

I look in pretty decent shape for an old guy.

In middle age you start really taking care of yourself. Do yourself a favor and never stop working out or exercising or playing sports and get off the junk food early. When you get sober, stay away from sodas.

This is a lot to take in.

Yeah but the thing is, you’re up to it. Don’t sell yourself short. Sometimes you lack self-confidence. Back yourself to do better, to be better. You’ll be fine, kid.

I hope if I’m dreaming or something I remember all this.

Me too. Good luck.