time marches on
So the other night, for the life of me, I couldn't sleep and decided to watch an old dvd favorite; “Grosse Pointe Blank”. Seriously, I used to love this movie in every way, and we're not talking simply when I was eight years old. Which isn't to say that everything from my young palette doesn't withstand the test of time. Sure, Dungeons and Dragons was only worth watching for that damn bow of endless arrows, but there were also gems like The Muppets and Battle of the Planets.
Sorry, beginning to stray. Well on into my early twenties I'd sit back and imagine myself in similar circumstances, commiserating with Martin and all of his late twenties angst. An aging scholar who's spent the last ten years doing things he can't tell a soul about, yet constantly finds himself being entirely too honest? Still struggling with self identity, all the choices he's made in life and where it's deposited him in the present? Poor choices, lost opportunity and wasted talent and time? Oh yeah, I'm there, man! Secretly want to be you, imminent threat to life and all? You bet!
So it's been years upon years since I've watched this thing and guess what? It felt like every fifteen minutes I rolled my eyes to some comment or other and wondered how in the hell I had found this stuff as insightful as previously stated. To be honest, I was actually more than a little embarrassed. We all grow out of things, but this is the first one that really struck me as having changed so drastically from my twenties. The severity of this reaction left an odd taste on the brain. C'mon, we're not talking about something from all that long ago! We all expect and happily accept moving on from treasures of our youth, but to recognize such a shift from, what I consider being, recent history? This isn't to say that I no longer identify with all of the conflicts presented. Of course I do, but the way they're presented just felt lazily sophomoric and *gulp* immature. You have no idea how much a pretentious ass I feel just typing that last sentence.
Not to mention, I was completely sober. Sure, I've experienced how much the perception of film or music can change for the better or worse while being fucked up and that's not what I went through here. I'll never forget watching “Die Harder” while extremely toasted and my brain could do nothing but lock onto every ludicrous detail in rapid succession. Apparently, at some point in the past ten years I passed through an imperceptible wall that no longer allows me to enjoy some treats of yonder year... and I'm pissed. I feel that neurotic urge to sit down with all of dvds and see what deserves a trip to Movie Trading Company's turn-in shelf. Grow up, Grosse Pointe Blank.... grow up. Christ, I need some sleep.
Sorry, beginning to stray. Well on into my early twenties I'd sit back and imagine myself in similar circumstances, commiserating with Martin and all of his late twenties angst. An aging scholar who's spent the last ten years doing things he can't tell a soul about, yet constantly finds himself being entirely too honest? Still struggling with self identity, all the choices he's made in life and where it's deposited him in the present? Poor choices, lost opportunity and wasted talent and time? Oh yeah, I'm there, man! Secretly want to be you, imminent threat to life and all? You bet!
So it's been years upon years since I've watched this thing and guess what? It felt like every fifteen minutes I rolled my eyes to some comment or other and wondered how in the hell I had found this stuff as insightful as previously stated. To be honest, I was actually more than a little embarrassed. We all grow out of things, but this is the first one that really struck me as having changed so drastically from my twenties. The severity of this reaction left an odd taste on the brain. C'mon, we're not talking about something from all that long ago! We all expect and happily accept moving on from treasures of our youth, but to recognize such a shift from, what I consider being, recent history? This isn't to say that I no longer identify with all of the conflicts presented. Of course I do, but the way they're presented just felt lazily sophomoric and *gulp* immature. You have no idea how much a pretentious ass I feel just typing that last sentence.
Not to mention, I was completely sober. Sure, I've experienced how much the perception of film or music can change for the better or worse while being fucked up and that's not what I went through here. I'll never forget watching “Die Harder” while extremely toasted and my brain could do nothing but lock onto every ludicrous detail in rapid succession. Apparently, at some point in the past ten years I passed through an imperceptible wall that no longer allows me to enjoy some treats of yonder year... and I'm pissed. I feel that neurotic urge to sit down with all of dvds and see what deserves a trip to Movie Trading Company's turn-in shelf. Grow up, Grosse Pointe Blank.... grow up. Christ, I need some sleep.