January 16, 2009 @ 10:12 pm by sean
I remembered today how happy I was a year ago.
Obviously the knowledge of that never left me, but to remember it is something different. Implies more separation from the situation maybe. I’m not convinced that’s the truth of the situation, but that’s how it came out. I remarked at work that it had been nearly a year since Amy stopped working there, and then checked my email as a reference to find out when a certain event happened, because it happened Amy’s last day at the café.
I hesitate to write about this in public, just in case he might read it and think I still hold on to it, that I still have anything against him.
A year ago was when I was still happy, before he relieved me of my ignorance of a circumstance with details which I could hardly anticipate, but probably should have expected somehow.
I reflected much during the months following February 22nd, about the event of that date and the months preceding it. In those reflections I had decided that I loved her, had loved her, the first recognizable instance of it in my life. Contemplating it all now, and considering where I currently am, I doubt that I did. It’s hard to imagine now that I ever thought I possessed such capabilities. Perhaps I did. And perhaps I won’t again. I feel as far from it now as I ever did, with less anticipation for it than before the interaction between her and I commenced. “The roughness to you looks better than the diamond.” Mrs. Taylor said that to Molly Wood as Molly was planning to move back to Vermont, her home, from Wyoming. Molly was running away from her lover, for whatever reason people do those things. It seems I too pursue the roughness instead of the diamond. I expect the roughness. Expect I won’t be happy like I was a year ago. That I won’t have any diamonds like I did a year ago. Even if it did turn out to be cubic zirconia in the end.
I wish I could just tip my hat to her and be done with it. I am done with it. She doesn’t know that. There was never an opportunity for it. I’ve seen her once since May, and haven’t spoken with her since the end of June. Seeing her that one time, only a few weeks ago, was a bizarre, unexpected situation. Or at least one I’ve made out to be bizarre. But Everett in Appoloosa, he just tipped his hat to that woman and that said all he needed to. I don’t particularly recommend that movie, as movies I recommend are few and far between. With this developing desire of being a cowboy, and reading The Virginian (where the aforementioned quote came from), the first “cowboy” book, Appoloosa seemed trite. (that’s not a word I commonly use, and it turned out to be exactly the word I wanted.) It seemed like the two main characters were attempting to take the cowboy stereotype as far as they seriously could, but it appeared to be an inside joke between actors – laughing at things were there was no comedy but when they stretched the stereotype just a few inches too far, and knew it, all the while still trying to pull the wool over the movie-watchers eyes.
Maybe it’s just me, maybe it’s just the two most recent movies I’ve seen (Appoloosa and The Traitor) but it seems like acting has taken a turn for the worse. It’s never seemed more obvious to me that they are acting. Hollywood has reached it’s end. There are no more interesting stories to tell, and they’ve reused the same tricks so often the tricks are easily seen through. Except to those who don’t want to see them.
In reading a book the responsibility is on me to imagine to the writers words. In movies, the complete responsibility is on the actors to make their character believable. Obviously the writer has some work to do, and there are more than just the actors, but it’s the actors that are the face of everything else going into the production, and when it’s obvious they are acting, all is lost.