Example: I can look back at certain romantic relationships and fit each into a genre of film. My relationship with my only exgirlfriend, Muffin, was a coming-of-age love story that unquestionably resembled The Wonder Years…or maybe Let The Right One In. After that, I was cast opposite my first boyfriend, Ferriday, in a tragedy worthy of a Nicholas Sparks novel. He stopped taking his antidepressants and forgot why he was dating me in the first place. It was like The Notebook if everyone were chain-smoking and making out with random trade in the bathroom stall at Splash. After that, The Dean and I co-starred in our own quirky romantic comedy about maturity and the male gender. And no one bought tickets. Following that, McBougie and I gave Oscar-worthy performances in our own adaptation of Revolutionary Road; self-administered abortion included. Finally, I took a turn against my typecasting when I accepted a character opposite Wit’s End in a Coen Brothers-esk East Texas meets South Louisiana drama where the credits finally role and everyone looks at one another and wonders aloud, “What the fuck just happened!?” Most recently, I wrapped shooting on my latest project: an animated short with a guy from Lake Charles that I will henceforth refer to as “Geronimo.” Trailer release date TBA.
Apart from the expected comedy and drama performances, I’ve also done sci-fi and the occasional supernatural thriller. Meet a trick out in some trailer park in Cade, Louisiana, and you will understand what it feels like to be in a Lars von Trier movie. The fear will immerse you.
In addition to film parallels, I’ve also developed a cataloguing system based on recording artist credits. Norah Jones released an album a few years ago called “…Featuring Norah Jones,” in which every track credited Jones as either the primary artist or the featured artist. Inspired by this format, I decided that at the end of each committed relationship, I would look back and declare myself deserving of majority credit, or the doom of living between parenthesis. In the interest of full disclosure, I offer this statement:
As selfish and self-centered as I can be, I’m even more of an attention whore. I’ve accepted the fact that I am an embarrassingly shameless gay stereotype, and my peace is with God.
Translation: I don’t like being some slampiece’s fucking sidekick. Look, I understand that every relationship is a partnership, but frankly, I have enough anxiety than to deal with without the baggage of closure. Let me decide if I’m T-Pain or John Mayer. I sleep better at night knowing that Geronimo carried most of the weight of our short relationship while I simply paid for drinks and dinner.
The bottom line: My brain is too saturated in pop culture to not create my reality with its influence. Sometimes it makes more sense to frame certain events as movies I’ve seen; people become synonymous with certain songs I’ve heard. Life — and dating more specifically — can overwhelm. But remembering someone as Young Jezzy can make it a little more bearable.
The bottom line: My brain is too saturated in pop culture to not create my reality with its influence. Sometimes it makes more sense to frame certain events as movies I’ve seen; people become synonymous with certain songs I’ve heard. Life — and dating more specifically — can overwhelm. But remembering someone as Young Jezzy can make it a little more bearable.
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