How I spent my Christmas Day
25 December, 2005
I didn’t go to my mom’s house. I stayed home and watched horror movies for Christmas. I finished reading Midwives, one of the books I got for 35 cents in Portland. And now I'm watching a special on the Chicago Bears of 1985 “Shuffle to the Superbowl”. It’s fascinating to me. There were so many characters. They won the Superbowl at a pivotal time for me. Anywhere I went I would shyly nod when asked “What about the Bears?” It amazes me what gives us a sense of pride, even when the only connection is geographical. I wasn’t even a great fan of football - I still think it makes more sense for soccer to be called football -- but I couldn’t ignore my oldest brother’s booming voice shouting at the TV that season. I watched him like I watch all people: as if he were a dangerous panther. It was best to watch him and gather all the information you could before approaching carefully. I’d sit silently next to him soaking in what was happening on the screen. American football is such a huge business. And the Bears are back in it this year. I have nothing against events that instills a sense of pride, that makes a grown man hug another and that connects a group together. Not nationalism, just a sense of identity and claiming that won’t let you defame what you love. There’s got to be a way to carry that beyond the stadiums, though. There’s also the other edge to that sword. During the Chicago Bulls’ championship run - I’m not sure which win, but they were playing Utah - Eric found a Utah Jazz jacket. We cleaned it and put it in the closet. It was during the last game of the championships that year. Eric mused allowed that had he gone outside with that jacket on with people pouring out of bars, proud of ‘their’ Bulls, he might have been killed and he didn’t even like sports at all and had no idea before finding the jacket that Utah had a basketball team. I couldn’t argue. Sports are weird. Eric hates them. The artist in me can't help but marvel at the physical skill.
I can always tell the nights when Eric forgot to take his medications until late. We were up late, so he didn’t take his meds until 2a. Clozaril knocks you out, I guess. He got up for a bit, but has spent the day so far in bed - it’s now after 2p. I probably won’t post this until Monday, though. His birthday was yesterday. Due to a financial gaffe I won’t be able to get him a gift until later. He was a bit down about this Christmas. He didn’t receive any cards or gifts for either his birthday or Christmas. I bought him some beer and it made him smile. He’s generally responsible for his own vices, but I felt bad.
Actually, he did get a card. It was addressed to the both of us. It was from his sister. It contained $40 in cash and a couple of photos of her family. There was a short note saying that she and her husband see us occasionally and think of us. It concluded, though, with the statement that as it was likely any endeavor to see us regularly again would end with the same result, she didn’t see any point. Okay. Then why send the card? Eric talked to his dad. His dad had also received a letter from his sister talking about how draining Eric was and how she and her husband couldn’t deal with it anymore. That note ended with her talking about how self-centered and horrible Eric was. This is from the woman who let her emotionally fragile younger brother take care of her dying mother on his own because she had a son and couldn’t handle it. His brother was of course in New York City and wasn’t going to bother coming back to take care of his dying mom. It was left to Eric, who did the best he could and still feels bad. This is about a man who curbed his religious talk because he wanted his sister to be comfortable. This is coming from a woman who, as a child badgered her single mom into getting a new bedroom set because it wasn’t nice enough. She begged for a dog and wouldn’t take care of it. It grew so neurotic it barked non-stop when they were out of the house and the neighbors complained. They had the dogs vocal cords cut! And then they left it to Eric to find a new home for him or take it to the pound. Just because you have two children doesn’t mean you are not an entitled, spoiled woman. I am so sick of her talk, when she does communicate with Eric, telling him that if he had the responsibility of a family, he would understand her more. Where was her sense of family when her mom was dying? I could have EIGHT kids and if my mom were dying, she’d be with ME. Grrr. See: I can’t stop. I get vicious. I can’t help pulling out ALL the ammo when someone I care about gets their feelings hurt. I might be able to deal with her weaknesses if she were honest about them.
At any rate, I had stopped Eric from writing a long rambling letter to her. I suggested that it might be best to keep it short. Wish her the best. Thank her for the cash and let it go. He was glad of this when he heard from his dad that he had received a letter with disparaging remarks about Eric. I’m venting here because it takes enormous restraint not to go off on the bitch in Eric’s presence. Eric’s dad is an ass. He’s very up front about it. I had issues with him for a bit because of it, but when you’re clear and know where you stand and you find there’s no malice you can at least have a place to start.
We spent Eric’s birthday watching four movies: It’s a Wonderful Life. We both laughed at the part where Clarence says: “I was told not to show you Mary! It’s too horrible!” Horror of horrors: she’s a SPINSTER! And a LIBRARIAN! I don’t cry at movies, but it always makes me swell with emotion, watching George touch his own face: “My mouth’s bleedin’, Bert! My mouth’s bleeding! Where are Zuzu’s petals?”
Then we watched Dark Heaven. I cannot express enough my disappointment with this movie. I like movies that start off with someone unconscious, waking to find dead silence and no other signs of life in the world. It only took me ten minutes, though, to see where this one was going. Surprisingly stylish for a film so cheaply made, so the lack of imagination startled me. Religious propoganda. Now, other horror movies have religious themes and I have no issues with them. The Exorcist is still one of my favorite movies. But I expected Kirk Cameron of Growing Pains to step onto the screen. So bad. I didn’t realize until I got home that I had grabbed two movies with Dark in the title. It was a Dark Christmas. The second movie was Dark Harvest. Now I love a small movie. And I have no issues, obviously, with horror movies. This was movie left so many avenues unexplored. And the unexplored avenues would have been so much more interesting. It was about a guy who was adopted who finds out his biological dad died and left him some land. The land has a bad reputation and has been left fallow since the 1930s. Yeah. I don’t even have to tell you that he and some friends go up to check out the property to see if he wants to sell it and then people start dying. It wasn’t even that fact which disappointed me - it’s a genre and genres have formulas. Again, I’m baffled by how linear and colorless the script was.
Here was the one highlight. I saved the best for last. I’ve always been impressed with Greg Araki. I love the energy, sensuality and lustiness of his films. He always goes over the top. I wasn’t sure what to expect with Mysterious Skin. Before I get to the plot, I have to tell you my connection with the film. The author of the book that inspired this film, Scott Heim came to my school, Columbia College Chicago. I graduated from the Fiction Writing department there. I saw a reading from this book by the author just after it was published in the mid-90s. I had a class, though, and couldn’t wait on queue for him to sign it. He doesn’t even know me and I’m so proud of him. I know Don DeGracia, though. I started a class he taught but had to drop it. Don was a Hottie McHotPants. He had a sly smirk. He was a part-time bouncer at theMetro. He was a former skinhead and wore big black work boots to class. He was so direct and droll and well read. I hope they make his book into a film, too. There was such a good crop of writers there. I wish them all luck. And I hope to one day kick my own ass into action. Now to the film: Joseph Gordon-Levitt is an absolute revelation as Neil McCormick, a slick and hard-eyed street kid in a small town in Kansas. His performance is so bold and fearless. Seeing him shirtless, I couldn’t shake that feeling: This is that cute little kid from Third Rock from the Sun! It unnerved me how good he was. We see the layers slowly peeled back as, on a trip home, he is forced to confront the origins of his personal mythology when confronted by a former teammate from little league. Brady Corbet has a quiet power as Brian Lackey, a confused introvert trying to fill the holes in his history. It seems only Neil has the answers. Powerful stuff, this. Rent it, turn off your phone and enjoy. It is glittering and sordid, innocent and nasty. And it doesn’t pander. Again: watch it and thank me later.
What the hell is it with all the book and movie and television reviews lately? Well. It’s what I do. I watch movies, read, watch television and talk to Eric. Sadly, I’m working a lot, stressed out a lot and am tired of venturing out in the cold when I don’t need to. I have been writing a bit. I may post some of it later. I wrote a comedy bit. I may go out and do an amateur night. I do things on my own. I didn’t know a soul in the room but Eric when I belted out “Anarchy in the UK” at Punk Karaoke. I’m sad it doesn’t exist anymore. I would love to go again. I still think it would be hilarious to start a band once I move. I got high fives and shouts for that, yet no one from work believed me when I told them about it. I seem too shy. I invited a bunch of folks that night but no one showed.
Oh. I’m rambling. I’ll post this anyway, though. Happy travels, cerulean_scars! I hope you make it back safe from Frankfurt if you aren’t back yet. I hope you had a couple of beers for me in Germany! Love to all those reading. And brace yourselves: Here comes the New Year!
I didn’t go to my mom’s house. I stayed home and watched horror movies for Christmas. I finished reading Midwives, one of the books I got for 35 cents in Portland. And now I'm watching a special on the Chicago Bears of 1985 “Shuffle to the Superbowl”. It’s fascinating to me. There were so many characters. They won the Superbowl at a pivotal time for me. Anywhere I went I would shyly nod when asked “What about the Bears?” It amazes me what gives us a sense of pride, even when the only connection is geographical. I wasn’t even a great fan of football - I still think it makes more sense for soccer to be called football -- but I couldn’t ignore my oldest brother’s booming voice shouting at the TV that season. I watched him like I watch all people: as if he were a dangerous panther. It was best to watch him and gather all the information you could before approaching carefully. I’d sit silently next to him soaking in what was happening on the screen. American football is such a huge business. And the Bears are back in it this year. I have nothing against events that instills a sense of pride, that makes a grown man hug another and that connects a group together. Not nationalism, just a sense of identity and claiming that won’t let you defame what you love. There’s got to be a way to carry that beyond the stadiums, though. There’s also the other edge to that sword. During the Chicago Bulls’ championship run - I’m not sure which win, but they were playing Utah - Eric found a Utah Jazz jacket. We cleaned it and put it in the closet. It was during the last game of the championships that year. Eric mused allowed that had he gone outside with that jacket on with people pouring out of bars, proud of ‘their’ Bulls, he might have been killed and he didn’t even like sports at all and had no idea before finding the jacket that Utah had a basketball team. I couldn’t argue. Sports are weird. Eric hates them. The artist in me can't help but marvel at the physical skill.
I can always tell the nights when Eric forgot to take his medications until late. We were up late, so he didn’t take his meds until 2a. Clozaril knocks you out, I guess. He got up for a bit, but has spent the day so far in bed - it’s now after 2p. I probably won’t post this until Monday, though. His birthday was yesterday. Due to a financial gaffe I won’t be able to get him a gift until later. He was a bit down about this Christmas. He didn’t receive any cards or gifts for either his birthday or Christmas. I bought him some beer and it made him smile. He’s generally responsible for his own vices, but I felt bad.
Actually, he did get a card. It was addressed to the both of us. It was from his sister. It contained $40 in cash and a couple of photos of her family. There was a short note saying that she and her husband see us occasionally and think of us. It concluded, though, with the statement that as it was likely any endeavor to see us regularly again would end with the same result, she didn’t see any point. Okay. Then why send the card? Eric talked to his dad. His dad had also received a letter from his sister talking about how draining Eric was and how she and her husband couldn’t deal with it anymore. That note ended with her talking about how self-centered and horrible Eric was. This is from the woman who let her emotionally fragile younger brother take care of her dying mother on his own because she had a son and couldn’t handle it. His brother was of course in New York City and wasn’t going to bother coming back to take care of his dying mom. It was left to Eric, who did the best he could and still feels bad. This is about a man who curbed his religious talk because he wanted his sister to be comfortable. This is coming from a woman who, as a child badgered her single mom into getting a new bedroom set because it wasn’t nice enough. She begged for a dog and wouldn’t take care of it. It grew so neurotic it barked non-stop when they were out of the house and the neighbors complained. They had the dogs vocal cords cut! And then they left it to Eric to find a new home for him or take it to the pound. Just because you have two children doesn’t mean you are not an entitled, spoiled woman. I am so sick of her talk, when she does communicate with Eric, telling him that if he had the responsibility of a family, he would understand her more. Where was her sense of family when her mom was dying? I could have EIGHT kids and if my mom were dying, she’d be with ME. Grrr. See: I can’t stop. I get vicious. I can’t help pulling out ALL the ammo when someone I care about gets their feelings hurt. I might be able to deal with her weaknesses if she were honest about them.
At any rate, I had stopped Eric from writing a long rambling letter to her. I suggested that it might be best to keep it short. Wish her the best. Thank her for the cash and let it go. He was glad of this when he heard from his dad that he had received a letter with disparaging remarks about Eric. I’m venting here because it takes enormous restraint not to go off on the bitch in Eric’s presence. Eric’s dad is an ass. He’s very up front about it. I had issues with him for a bit because of it, but when you’re clear and know where you stand and you find there’s no malice you can at least have a place to start.
We spent Eric’s birthday watching four movies: It’s a Wonderful Life. We both laughed at the part where Clarence says: “I was told not to show you Mary! It’s too horrible!” Horror of horrors: she’s a SPINSTER! And a LIBRARIAN! I don’t cry at movies, but it always makes me swell with emotion, watching George touch his own face: “My mouth’s bleedin’, Bert! My mouth’s bleeding! Where are Zuzu’s petals?”
Then we watched Dark Heaven. I cannot express enough my disappointment with this movie. I like movies that start off with someone unconscious, waking to find dead silence and no other signs of life in the world. It only took me ten minutes, though, to see where this one was going. Surprisingly stylish for a film so cheaply made, so the lack of imagination startled me. Religious propoganda. Now, other horror movies have religious themes and I have no issues with them. The Exorcist is still one of my favorite movies. But I expected Kirk Cameron of Growing Pains to step onto the screen. So bad. I didn’t realize until I got home that I had grabbed two movies with Dark in the title. It was a Dark Christmas. The second movie was Dark Harvest. Now I love a small movie. And I have no issues, obviously, with horror movies. This was movie left so many avenues unexplored. And the unexplored avenues would have been so much more interesting. It was about a guy who was adopted who finds out his biological dad died and left him some land. The land has a bad reputation and has been left fallow since the 1930s. Yeah. I don’t even have to tell you that he and some friends go up to check out the property to see if he wants to sell it and then people start dying. It wasn’t even that fact which disappointed me - it’s a genre and genres have formulas. Again, I’m baffled by how linear and colorless the script was.
Here was the one highlight. I saved the best for last. I’ve always been impressed with Greg Araki. I love the energy, sensuality and lustiness of his films. He always goes over the top. I wasn’t sure what to expect with Mysterious Skin. Before I get to the plot, I have to tell you my connection with the film. The author of the book that inspired this film, Scott Heim came to my school, Columbia College Chicago. I graduated from the Fiction Writing department there. I saw a reading from this book by the author just after it was published in the mid-90s. I had a class, though, and couldn’t wait on queue for him to sign it. He doesn’t even know me and I’m so proud of him. I know Don DeGracia, though. I started a class he taught but had to drop it. Don was a Hottie McHotPants. He had a sly smirk. He was a part-time bouncer at theMetro. He was a former skinhead and wore big black work boots to class. He was so direct and droll and well read. I hope they make his book into a film, too. There was such a good crop of writers there. I wish them all luck. And I hope to one day kick my own ass into action. Now to the film: Joseph Gordon-Levitt is an absolute revelation as Neil McCormick, a slick and hard-eyed street kid in a small town in Kansas. His performance is so bold and fearless. Seeing him shirtless, I couldn’t shake that feeling: This is that cute little kid from Third Rock from the Sun! It unnerved me how good he was. We see the layers slowly peeled back as, on a trip home, he is forced to confront the origins of his personal mythology when confronted by a former teammate from little league. Brady Corbet has a quiet power as Brian Lackey, a confused introvert trying to fill the holes in his history. It seems only Neil has the answers. Powerful stuff, this. Rent it, turn off your phone and enjoy. It is glittering and sordid, innocent and nasty. And it doesn’t pander. Again: watch it and thank me later.
What the hell is it with all the book and movie and television reviews lately? Well. It’s what I do. I watch movies, read, watch television and talk to Eric. Sadly, I’m working a lot, stressed out a lot and am tired of venturing out in the cold when I don’t need to. I have been writing a bit. I may post some of it later. I wrote a comedy bit. I may go out and do an amateur night. I do things on my own. I didn’t know a soul in the room but Eric when I belted out “Anarchy in the UK” at Punk Karaoke. I’m sad it doesn’t exist anymore. I would love to go again. I still think it would be hilarious to start a band once I move. I got high fives and shouts for that, yet no one from work believed me when I told them about it. I seem too shy. I invited a bunch of folks that night but no one showed.
Oh. I’m rambling. I’ll post this anyway, though. Happy travels, cerulean_scars! I hope you make it back safe from Frankfurt if you aren’t back yet. I hope you had a couple of beers for me in Germany! Love to all those reading. And brace yourselves: Here comes the New Year!