It may not have been clear in that first post, but I’ve been in a bit of a funk lately. This has sparked an interest in seeking out things that make me feel things–art, for lack of a better word–that they may provide some small amount of motivation. Caught up on a bunch of stuff from NetFlix, the highlight being seeing Wilson chew on a revolver in
Dead Poets Society. Second-best movie suicide ever; Brooks in
Shawshank Redemption just edges him out, only on account of that clumsy teetering he does on the chair. Old people just aren’t graceful.
I’m also reading fiction again, for the first time since probably high school. That’s not quite true–I went through a Chuck Palahnuik phase a few years ago, but any rational person would agree that shouldn’t count. Trolling through Amazon recommendations lead me to Apathy and Other Small Victories
, easily the best thing I’ve read in as long as I can remember. I can’t call it a great book–not much character development, not much in the way of plot, and it’s barely novel-length–but it made me laugh out loud repeatedly, and literally slap my knee. Do you know how much of a tool you feels like after making an audible “Ha!” and slapping your knee on public transportation? Quite the tool, I can assure you. It’s the kind of book that I’d love to be able to write, and seeing it done so well was both humbling and motivating. When you experience something that you know you’re not going to measure up to, it really takes the pressure off. To me, that’s art–anything that makes you feel small, and therefore freed from expectations.
Last week, I saw David Schwimmer in Our Town. When asked if I’d go, I agreed, just for the goof. I thought it was like being asked to see Rob Schneider in Hamlet, or willingly watching “The Hills.” Expectations are low, and you do it just to see if it’ll deliver even lower. But the son of a bitch was really good. Sure, it took the better part of the first act to stop thinking it was Ross Geller lusting after his sixteen year old neighbor, but once I got used to it, it really worked. There’s nothing worse than seeing people do what they love, except when they’re really good at it.
I have no Part II of this planned. But if Matt LeBlanc ever does A Christmas Carol, I’m there.