Heros

(Photo by Miranda Schultz)

Fun.  People are finding their ways back.  Good scary fun.

I watched "Crazy Heart" last night.  Re-watched, I should say.  I didn't think I could do it again, but how could I not, really.  I fast forwarded through the part where Bad Blake loses the kid in the bar, but I rewound it and watched that again, too.  It is a painful movie if you a) are of a certain type or b) grew up in an era with heros of a certain type.  Or c), if life has had a hold on you and you do d) have a "crazy heart."  It is the best, most horrible portrayal of a drunk since Albert Finney in John Huston's adaptation of Malcolm Lowry's "Under the Volcano."  That one is hard to watch, too.  I think it is that subtle gasping for air through a partially open mouth that is so convincing.  That is the emblem of it all, the hiding of a secret disease that you will suffer through alone.  And it is the suffering without asking quarter that appeals as much as the disease appalls which makes it so enthralling.  And the foils, those creepy little shits, the brother Hugh in "Volcano," and the faker Tommy in "Heart," playing to the crowd rather than the bigger thing.  And both being successful.

That is what I thought, anyway, watching the movie and drinking whiskey.  I thought that and of a text I read on my ex's phone one day just before the end that said, "they say he isn't looking so young any more."  Yea, yea, yea.  That, and thinking, too, about meeting up once again with someone from the past, she now older than the girl I fell for, me something else besides.  How, I wonder, do you get used to that?

The photo is by a friend who has gotten me in plenty of trouble.  I met her a long time ago, also, when she was young and crazy.  Somehow, time has passed for her as well.  She lives in Montana now and, by all appearances, photographs horses. This photograph was too appealing.  I asked her if I could post it here.

Drunks.  Hmm.  I'll tell you about the crack girl later.  She has different heros.