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.

I Was Never Exactly a Coke Fiend But Goodness Me.....A Reminiscence

“No more cocaine for me, I’ve had plenty,” said no one ever.

This is an odd but true statement: I was never quite a coke fiend. I could go days, weeks, without it, unlike alcohol which, when I was a practitioner, I couldn’t imagine doing without for a day or two. Some people would do a dry February, I’d do a dry afternoon. But coke was more a matter of availability. When it was around I was most interested. When it wasn’t I was okay. Once I got a taste I was ready and anxious for seconds and thirds and fourths and say is there any more?

A healthy snort into the right nostril, usually followed by a swallow of liquor. Maybe scotch. If it was beer than it was a whole bottle. Then the buzzsaw through the brain and wasn’t life just grand and wasn’t there so much to talk about and so many ideas and we’ve all got something to say and turn up the music and maybe let’s dance our brains sure are. Dancing. Oh and the seeming clarity. Life was in focus. So many shallow insights to make that sounded so profound and just right now I could do a little bit more of everything. Of anything. Name it, brother. Let’s fucking gooooooooooo!!!!

But after awhile there’d be a mellowing which would be fine for awhile but then you needed another boost. Get back up on the horse and ride that motherfucka. We can’t just sit here and talk. We needed to transcend. There were other levels to explore so set me up with another line and by all means you and you and you have some too. Say, how many of us are there? A dozen. Let’s count. One, two, three, four….huh, could have sworn there was….But never mind all that.

Another line, the ride continues and did I ever tell you about, no wait, let’s talk about, hey put on another record. Boogaloo. Come on boogaloo my friends. We’re all great, great friends. We love each other, we’re all so cool. Let’s mix martinis! I want to go to France, like tonight. Probably not though, maybe we could go to Tahoe. We can do whatever we want. But being here right now is cool too, this is like the whole world.

High, high, high hi there.

So yeah, once I’d done a line I was all in and more please, keep her coming. I was a master of getting free blow. 

We can use my place if I can get a coupla lines.

I’ll set up the sale if I can get a coupla lines.

I’ll supply the booze if I can get a coupla lines.

I can hook you up with tickets if….

I can introduce you to this chick if….

Hell yes, I even prostituted myself for the white powder. Twice. Once with a woman (big deal, I liked her well enough and yeah she spent the night). Once with a man. Well, that was weird. But I’d done my experiment once when totally wasted and I was totally wasted this time too so it didn't mean a thing. It was just physical contact and the guy was young and good looking so I grinned and bore it. Yeah the chick was easier "to do" and kind of fun though she wasn’t my type and I had a girl and  — hey, wait a minute I was getting coke out of it so it was totally fine I didn’t need to make apologies. Everyone’s cool about that sort of stuff and it’s not I make a habit of this sort of thing. Felt weird after the guy like that is TOTALLY not my thing, but, you know, you forget. 

My halcyon days. A coke whore. (Yeah man, but just twice.)

But I didn’t mention that I stole money right out of friend’s wallet to buy coke. A friend! That was bad but like all addicts I had a real knack for forgetting inconvenient truths. I also borrowed a lot of money to pay for coke. I might have paid some of it back. Maybe not. No big deal. It’s only fucking money. Does it really matter?

Now imagine if I had a real problem?

So I’m sober now. Have been for decades. I remember how nice a buzz could feel, especially after a stressful day. Just took the edge off. God damn but I took a lot of edges off in my time. I was forever taking off edges. The edge remover me. But the point is that I recollect good times with booze, certainly not good enough to justify being a full blown drunk. Nope. Don’t need that. The coke I remember too. But I’ve never missed it. Bad juju. I was lucky I didn’t need it everyday. That I could take it or leave it — unless it was right there in front of me or if I’d already had a taste. But you go to a party and there’s no coke, it’s cool. There is coke and you…. But I’ve explained all that.

It’s the good times I’ll remember. Whatever the hell that means.

Though I know I'll never lose affection

For people and things that went before

I know I'll often stop and think about them. — From In My Life by The Beatles

Writers Block, Musings on Death, Two Films and Loved Ones Gone

His Three Daughters

My latest struggles with writing cause me to wonder if it’s all over. Is my mind starting to fade? Is this the beginning of the end? I used to be able to put a thousand words on paper with ease. I could conjure a piece of fiction upon request. I could sit down for hours and write only stopping occasionally to stretch. Is that gone? Forever?

Here I search for a topic. Many flit through my brain through the course of a normal day. But they don’t alight and I can’t grasp them. 

Grasp.

Why do people say, exempli gratia, I’m going to grab lunch instead of I’m going to grasp lunch? It makes as much sense.

(There has been — unnoticeable to the reader — a long pause sense the preceding sentence. The writer again is unable to find the next line, or any line, the next thought, or any thought.)

Finally…..

I am preoccupied with death, specifically my own. (This, by the way, is no way to go through life, better to enjoy each day, one day at a time and all that.) In any event the last four movies I've seen have dealt with death to one degree or another, in fact two of them were specifically about coping with the death(s) of others. These two films were All of Us Strangers (Haigh)and His Three Daughters (Jacobs). Strangers I saw initially in January during its theatrical run and again Saturday via Hulu. Daughters is a brand spanking new release now on Netflix. Strangers is a difficult film to capsulize but suffice it to say it is the story of a man dealing with the death of his parents which occurred many years before when he was twelve. There’s another critical element to the story but discussing that would be a major spoiler. Mourning periods can last a few days, months, years or a lifetime. People process the deaths of loved ones in myriad ways. All of Us Strangers explores one person’s delayed means of coping and gaining a sense of closure. It's an unusual film in the best possible sense and is highlighted by a great performance by the brilliant Andrew Scott.

His Three Daughters is about a father at home in hospice surrounded by his three grown daughters who are ostensibly there to aid in his transition from the living. While Dad is the raison d'etre for their presence there is much more to the story than that. The sisters are not terribly close, there are old wounds, resentments and misunderstandings — a dying parent adds another layer of stress. The film has been -- aptly -- called a chamber piece. Most of it is set in a New York apartment and most of the screen time is occupied by the three daughters wonderfully realized by Carrie Coon, Elizabeth Olsen and Natasha Lyonne. None of them are acting, they are embodying characters in such a powerful way as to make a potentially depressing story enthralling.

When my mother died I was nonplussed. I’d had very little contact with her for the previous twenty-five years. She was a paranoid schizophrenic who’d made my childhood….not perfect. I shed no tears upon her passing.In the years that followed  I posthumously forgave her and grieved not her death but her life. God how I wish fate had been kinder to her and thus to me.

My father’s death was a different matter. It was slow and we had plenty of time to prepare. Sixteen years later I’m still processing it and dealing with feelings about him. I’ve written a lot about him and he will be the topic of a talk I’m giving at a Finnish Independence Day celebration in December. He is something of a hero to me though I recognize his flaws all too well. 

I’ve had to suffer the premature losses of most of my close friends, two of whom died within a few months of each other, both unexpectedly. It was not long after my only brother had died too.

I miss them all and it’s interesting to note how frequently they and my father appear in my dreams, always alive and well. It’s impossible to accept the permanence of the death of a loved one. It’s natural that we talk and hope of seeing them on the other side.

A former student of mine, who I see from time to time because he’s best friends with one of my nephews, suffered the death of his son last Christmas Day. The day before the boy was to turn six-years-old. That’s an unimaginable type of pain, probably the worst there is. Life is so cruel that the internal question why most constantly be asked, if never answered. 

But we the living owe it to ourselves to cherish everyday as best we can. That’s quite simple in principle but for someone such as myself who suffers from occasional bouts of horrid depression it’s not manageable. I guess one has to do the best they can.

Well I’ve at least given lie to the notion that my writing is dead. I’ve completed this later in the day after starting in the morning but it still constitutes a decent bit of writing, particularly given that I taught a class, graded papers and planned a lesson in the interim. I’ve also been wracked by depression. Completing this helps. Thanks to anyone who read this far.

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