I was in my mid thirties when Harvey Milk was killed. So this movie, for me is a bit like watching the Titanic. I know how it's going to end. Hope I haven't ruined it for you. Add to that the recent passage of Proposition 8 in California, and similar measures in other states, and I gotta tell you, we haven't come so very far, baby. We have a long way to go. And it is the religious right that is keeping us stuck. And to be depressed anyway, this reminder is really heartbreaking. I started crying the moment the movie started and I never stopped. There were several marvelous performances, and perhaps Josh Borlin's was the most heartbreakingly perfect. I always expect Shawn Penn to wow me, and he never disappoints, but Brolin is an actor like Tommy Lee Jones who never seems to be working that hard at acting, and so he may be overlooked for the big awards. Too bad we always want to give the prizes to actors like Daniel Day Lewis, who in my opinion never takes a part that doesn't require the over-the-top bravura performance. And god help the actor like George Clooney, who not only makes it look easy, but is too handsome to be taken as seriously as he deserves. Milk is a very good movie, but I'm a very depressed movie goer who dragged myself out of bed, took a shower, and went out because it's good for me, not because I really wanted to go out.
I love Nick. I love him more than any man I know. But depression makes me terrible company. I have already placed restrictions on our friendship--I won't go to parties, or out at night. I won't go anywhere there's likely to be a crowd. And now, I won't go out as long as I'm depressed. It's just too painful. Going out makes it all the more apparent that I shouldn't be out.
I can't write. I can't think. My fingers feel as if there are weights attached, and every other word has to be retyped. It's a small agony. And worst of all, it's the season to be jolly and generous--I can't seem to fake it anymore.
So, for now I will be posting stories and poetry. I promise that none of the stories or poetry I post will be as dark as that last story of mine. Promise. Hopefully, with even a bit of humor here and there. And one of my poems has the word penis in the first line, teehee. So don't give up in me.
I'm counting on the inauguration to cheer me up, bring me back to the world of the living and the joyous, or at least the hopeful. And just maybe letting myself off the hook for awhile will bring me back to the blog as a thinking, interested, interesting person again, assuming that I ever was. And who knows, maybe this break will make it possible for me to read again. I'm such a one trick pony.
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