Blues Run the Coming of Age Game
Sunday June 24th 2018, 7:49 pm
Filed under: inner-polish-teenage-girl,Old,reminiscence,self-indulgent,summer Tags:

What is it about coming-of-age movies and me? It’s not like I’m fucking cookie dough any more. I fear this is fully fucking baked, even if the recipe needs tinkering with. Two nights, two movies of angsty young men in a tangle of desire and books and struggling how and who to be in the world. I’m only 19 minutes into this evening’s fare, and quite enjoying it, but wanted to pause and wonder. (Also, owwwwwww. I went to the fancy gym, and now I fancy hurt.)

 

Hours and hours today wasted on blood relatives; another bunch waiting for a call back, alas. Drinks with a sort-of-old-friend (we’re 50-50 over two visits over 5 years) who is leaving LA, finally off the market. (Amusingly, for a place I applied to in the dark years. I think, no, I’m dead fucking certain they’re the ones that sent me a rejection in AUGUST of the FOLLOWING YEAR, 10 months after I applied for a position, and weeks before I started submitting apps again. Who fucking does that? {Side note: I had to work with fucking lawyers, but it was updates-a-go-go with the search I helmed}).

 

Fuck it. Returning to my regularly scheduled visit of fantasies of different but all too recognizable versions of 20-something me, who was miserable, except when he wasn’t. I was something in those formative years, as she sang and I could never not feel they’d already passed me by.


No Comments so far
Leave a comment



Leave a comment
Line and paragraph breaks automatic, e-mail address never displayed, HTML allowed: <a href="" title=""> <abbr title=""> <acronym title=""> <b> <blockquote cite=""> <cite> <code> <del datetime=""> <em> <i> <q cite=""> <s> <strike> <strong>

(required)

(required)