Just as a heads up, this will take at least 20mins of your time, so if you can't spare that much, then don't even try.
and now watch this:
I started thinking to myself about movies that made me cry. I don't remember the last time i cried in real life. It must of been at least when i was 18, or before that. I wondered what it was about these movies that really got to me, and after a few good pints, a few slugs off the bottle, i got to thinking, and it led me way further down that hole than i ever wanted to go.
Lets start with the ending to Gran Torino. Lets, for a moment, put aside all of the bullshit about bad acting and story arc and blah blah blah. Let's go straight for the heart, straight for the core of the movie. This isn't a father-son relationship. It came across more as two people from different cultures, different times, and different lives who somehow stumble upon being friends. In any case, one wonders why they are friends with someone in the first place? I believe that ground lays upon selfishness, you obviously see that the person has something to offer and inject into your life, something that you would like to be exposed to, so your curiosity wonders what it is about this person that intrigues you? They both exchange from the benefit, Walt gets someone that he can sift all of his shit onto and Thao gets a friend who can show him the ropes of the real world. Through the madness they tolerate each other's opposition but refer back to their initial tether, which keeps them both at bay together. They have this basic acceptance, not a racial acceptance, not a gender acceptance, not even a generation acceptance, but an acceptance as a human with something to offer greater than the slow drawl of life.
What makes me cry at the end of this movie, each and every time, is the scene above. Walt is a no bullshit kind of guy, he calls it like he sees it, and although everyone tries to put that label on themselves, when it really comes down to being honest and knowing that you'll possibly hurt someones feelings, Walt pulls through and spits it straight from inside without any kind of filter. A man like me can appreciate that. "The Unforgiving Truth." As the lawyer reads his will, with straight honesty from a deceased Walt, his grand daughter has a look of hope in her eyes. This makes me happy, because as the crushing blow of reality comes down on her, and the following words are said: my friend... Thao Vang Lor. On the condition that you don't chop-top the roof like one of those beaners, don't paint any idiotic flames on it like some white trash hillbilly, and don't put a big, gay spoiler on the rear end like you see on all the other zipperheads' cars. It just looks like hell. If you can refrain from doing any of that... it's yours.
.... Disappointment washes over her dead eyes. I often wonder how women react to this part of the movie. This is where i begin to tear up. They as friends, have gone through so much, and now, something that was merely an object has this unobtainable value that no one except Thao can understand. That my dear friends, is like giving a stranger a rock, and they toss it onto the curb. But giving someone who you helped dig that rock out with the same item, holds value in it, because you both have this understanding that is only between you and them. A friend. It's a gift that you can never say "thank you" or give back to. A final blow to the heart of love.
Now lets move onto Slc Punk. Steve-O and Heroine Bob are friends since early years. Bob strikes me as that kind of good hearted friend who is slightly naive but also critical and logical, although when drunk, can become way to critical of himself and wonder about his existence. I clicked with this movie, because I can share Bobs look in the mirror, wondering just what the fuck was going on, and how it got this far? And also riding home and spilling my heart about marriage, parents, and all the other horseshit babble we had to grow up with. (i understand that i am not special. We all had these problems growing up and dealt with them in one way or another.) But what really kills me about this last part is watching Steve-O realize that his only friend he ever had, his only friend that shared any kind of connection with, is laying there dead. It is true, that no one is ever ready for that, and it is also true, that only posers die you fucking idiot. But on the first plane, the thing that grabs me, is that no matter how much they battle through, (bobs dad trying to shoot them. Bob falling in love with Trish and leaving Steve-o out in the cold, bob moving on with his life, steve-o trying to move on with his, but feeling beaten by everyones happiness) they still revert back to that tether they had, that friendship, that simple thing that can never properly be described with justice, but only hold static in the air forever.
Both movies hold the same traits for me. Acceptance, understanding, a comradery that runs so deep it could never be fully understood except by the parties involved. I have this now with my roommate who i call my brother. Theres this thing between us, that no matter how far we push each other, we know when to come back and how exactly to come back in the right way. There's inside jokes, small bits of humor that anyone outside of this apartment will never understand. Walt and Thao, Steve-o and Bob. I wondered why these movies made me cry, and i figured it was the loss of someone who only you truly know. My next step was wondering how i could transfer those same feelings that are shared with a best friend onto a relationship between myself and a woman. That's a tough one.
Women were always a mystery to me, a mystery and a prize. I don't see how a woman can ever really be attracted to a man. We're fat, we smell, we're sweaty and somewhat dense, in short, we have nothing attractive about us. But a woman on the other hand, well shit... come on now... you're soft and sensual, even if you're rough and hard, you still have those frilly edges whether you like them or not. Your skin is soft, eyes like diamonds, hair like a Persian rug and the style of a cat. If men are dogs, then i'm glad women are cats. Sexy fucking cats.
Friendships involve a certain amount of respect and honesty. Everyone in a relationship demands honesty to a point, but is it really honestly honesty that you can handle? Yeah i said it twice. It makes sense. Go back and read it again. Okay, i feel that i may be dwindling off to a track on the wrong line. So give me a goddamn break to grab some more rum.
Alright, so first things fucking last, we've come this far, and all of this heavy drinking has seemed to clear my mind a bit as oppose to fogging it up. What is this mysterious air that keeps us from loving our wife like we love our brother? I believe it involves power. There's a power struggle in relationships between men and women. It's there, you can always feel it. In my life, i always had low self esteem. i fucking hate myself, and that's cool, i learned to live with it, i can't really see why a woman would like me or even be attracted to me in any sense, but i do know that i've got some value, something to offer, something solid and noteworthy, but i also know that i'm not any different than the other millions and billions of people here, so i don't really sweat that part of the equation. I'm good to you if you're good to me, and that's what it comes down to. Respect. Respect over power. But the tidy line is that you cannot demand respect or power from me, but must earn it. You've got to show me that under all that beauty lies something worth taking the time to figure out, understand, and ultimately fondle under my flannel blankets in our cold apartment. When I'm sick you come to me, and when you're sick I come to you. Soup for you, soup for me. Whats that? You just got in a car accident? Well shit, let me call work to cancel the day and come right over. But i won't do these things for you unless i know you're willing to go to bat for me, and the only way to know these things is to tackle them as they come.
I think about the previous women in my life, and although they were beautiful, and wonderful, i couldn't ever really see myself being honest with them. Because my honesty is to a fault, i bleed negativity and cynicism with small trace elements of hope and wonderlust. My humor is dark and makes sense in my head, but probably comes across as some gurgling sound. I am a difficult man to understand (or so i think) but i also don't make it easy for others to become close to me, because i cannot tolerate any kind of horse or bullshit. But you have to give in to get a little back. Vis a Vis.
Then i wonder if perhaps i came to this conclusion out of trying to find a peaceful understand in my relationship with the woman. This is a two sided street. On one hand, the alcohol and cigarettes mixed with the amphetamines may perhaps be making me delusional and stray away from reality (i just caught myself drooling).
On the other hand, maybe i am trying to take the small bits of my life that are true and decently understood, and honest, and finding a way to incorporate those into something that i know inside feels real, but is clouded with my previous inhibitions about the opposite sex and their mysterious ways of doing things. I feel as though this may be a step forth in the correct direction as i'm growing up. I see myself letting go of all those things i thought were great before, but now just seem lost and childish, and embracing things that have a value, a genuine purpose, something that is no longer abstract and vague, but solid and i can really grab a hold of. I want what I damn well want and don't want what they tell me i should want. Life is not without it's time wasting ability to live until you've driven yourself mad.
