How Last Thursday Felt at The Time... written March 27, 2008 11:59 PM in a friend's bedroom.
I cannot call to mind or even bear witness to the thoughts that led to this completely convoluted (in a good way) day. The idea was simple: follow myself around with a camera, see what happens. In doing so I have disregarded the utter permanence of the camera. Whatever I do will follow me. Though this is true with any and all instances of life, this held a bit stronger, I felt myself looking back at today from ten years in the future, remembering every thought, recounting every feeling. Becoming the person I was today.
The pressure of the camera felt so cold and stagnant for the first few hours. The exact same feeling one might feel when pouring your heart into a science experiment you know is doomed for "Honorable Mention" status.
Then, in a show of pure vivaciousness, the day took over. I can't say that I wasn't aware of the camera, but I certainly didn't pander to it. I did this experiment the right way. The only way in which it could possibly be conceived.
TANGENT: Do you remember the feeling of forgetting that you were watching a movie and thinking you were part of the action. Do you still feel it? I imagine this feeling is easily lost with the emergence of the brain into adulthood. I haven't been lost in cinema since seeing Titanic. In the theatre, I raised my life to be saved by a life boat. Don't you ever bunk on that flick.
Today feels like some sort of redemption. This over lying feeling of being a loser has been replaced with a smirk at the winding well of events that comprise my daily existence. Happy to be here. Happy to be alive.
In a nutshell here is what today consisted of:
Went to work.
Talked about God.
Got Antsy.
Wished I was inspired. Pretended to be inspired. Realized I didn't give a shit. Faking the funk.
Tried to appreciate Miguel Cabrera.
Drank.
Smoked.
Ran around.
Built the concept of "Joel Walkowski" into a realm of legend reserved for Mike Fink. I stole a pitcher of beer and smoked a corn cob pipe in a bathrobe.
Loved.
Lived.
Loathed.
This is the initial diagnosis of the day. However, transcending the murkiness of inattentiveness I feel that I must look closer and further digest the day. Latching onto the things that stand out is a cop out. While these are the big monuments, they aren't what makes me tick. You look at the face of the watch and get the information. However behind the face, the gears go to battle and tell the story. Grinding away without recognition to get their point across. I like to think that humans are defined by the gears and rather than the face. Well, men I guess, I will never begrudge a woman with a good face. Man! Spring in California makes walking around a college campus something no strict Muslim would ever approve of.
I woke up to tantamount aesthetic delights that can not be done justice in this forum. Awake in the palace, nothing but trepidation in the air, I tiptoed to the outside world, absent in my despair.
Ambling home, along the road, hung over with lust
Seeing a familiar face, hiding is a must.
Paddle down the river roads.
Flows you can't control.
Shrill frothing beasts.
There's nowhere to go but home.
See your love. Greet your love. Call out "Hello Nick".
If we lived in England...
We'd say " ello Nick".
If we lived in England...
We'd suck on lots of pricks.
Into the mines we go and toil
Though hands are calloused
Boy don't you!!!
The malaise is in the mind!
We don't care
and we won't ever.
We feel ourselves, know ourselves
finding that being content to drift isn't quite so scary.
See our lives. Fear on a sixty year old man's face.
By the end of the talk.
The fear is respect.
You feel good.
You walk home. Eat good. Embrace the future.
Strong virile male.
Fuck 3 bitches in a single night
If we didn't love so much.
What would pure lust be like?
Like LeBron. Undeniable.
Four hours slip away.
Gone to nothingness.
John Denver is so calming
God is so alarming.
It can work.
We must know that.
I believe
but can only watch 20 minutes.
Drift some more.
Buy beer in the afternoon.
Uncouth, but I'm lonely
and this knee won't let me run.
Fall away. Fall away. Fall away.
It's good but I should be/could be.
anywhere/everywhere else.
Joe versus the Volcano
Joel versus Life in an Alley.
Eat garbage hot dogs without mustard,
Or ketchup for that matter.
Talk to your mom.
Feed on conversation from breasts once suckled.
Wonder about Dad.
Dream of baseball season.
See those home runs.
Crisply contrasted against a cloudless blue sky.
Cabrera feeds the hungry
while unKatrinaing the Katrina.
He probably doesn't do anything
but as a concept OH MY GOD!!!!!!!!!!
Mom baits you with Mom bait.
Talk seems so silly.
OMFG LOLZ
Live the life.
Fall asleep through a traffic jam.
As a prince you don't appreciate.
Become a king.
Live the life.
Get drunk.
See what happens.
Everything happens.
Wear a bathrobe. Smoke a pipe.
Wonder when we'll do anything
Wonder when the fun will stop.
Joel Walkowski's Thursday
Edited and Directed by Nick Olah
Conceptual and Cinematic Assistance by Jeff LaPenna, Matt Goodwin, Heidi Knappenberger, and various others.
INTERNAL LANDLORD?!?
Looking back through the prism of time many things become clear both about me and last Thursday. Lessons are learned, but above all else, I wish to state that I didn’t break that bottle of liquor. Blame that on tricky editing by one Nick Olah (who did an utterly fantastic job BTW!!!).
Dressed in a bathrobe, one immediately takes on an air of irresponsibility, nonchalance, and other traits indicative of malaise. For these reasons, I have never appreciated bathrobes like one should. They are warm and caressing, yet gentle and familiar. Like a family member or lover or both (in a good way if that’s possible).
The bathrobe plays an especially interesting part in this film and in my day. I am not religious. I am an avowed atheist for that matter. However, I harbor a staunch belief in the forces of the universe. Things fall into place. In unexpected times, matters tend to coalesce in a truly fitting matter.
Not featured in the film was a phone conversation with my Mother. We talked about many things but among them was my sudden desire for a bathrobe. I had no idea one was in my near future, yet I expected it on some level. Shit like this happens all the time as long as we leave ourselves open to this.
*****
In recent months, looking inside has been emphasized. Falling asleep has never been so interesting, the mind becomes a playground. I knew my thoughts were beginning to change, but didn't realize the extent until someone told me "the journey never stops". Anything can happen as long as one decides to take risks and open doors. These changes are going on with all of us and we have to treasure them, even if they make some fall in love with the film Anywhere, USA . The film commenced with a shot of an empty living room and a voiceover saying "Inside". Sitting in the balcony, I snapped my fingers, and forgave the rest of the film. It's one of my favorite movies, but not because I enjoyed it.
Emphasis on the inward lets me understand how I watch basketball, why I like strawberries, and what childhood memories I tie to dentists. I like to think I'm learning a lot through details, but that could be ego. Such an idea thrives on being self-centered. This view of details might be clouding my vision. It took a film editor to show me that my life is broken down into chapters.
In the grips of Chapter One, I have no control over what I'm doing. I'm at work, subjected to various tasks and indignities that I'd never embark on alone. My laziness at work can be traced to rebellion and the high regard one holds for free time. Something doesn't have to limit me, the mere prospect of barriers is enough to rouse irritation and half-assed rebellion. I see this phenomenon in many walks of life. Dissatisfied with something, it's easier to disregard the institution as a whole than walk away, especially with that sweet sweet sweet sweet eight dollars an hour.
This need for control is evident in the second chapter of the film as well. My lazy afternoon and stemming frustration can be linked to the convergence of a wealth of possibilities meeting the lack of organization to sort through them and figure out what's important.
The afternoon awkwardness has been in my life since childhood. A block of semi-solitary free time is too open, too daunting. I like to think that a month in the woods would do wonders for me. Seeing this pattern, I might be better off in the middle of Times Square.
In the Third Chapter of the film, we see the character embark on fun with friends, sparking an immediate change in attitude. There are many potential reasons for this. The presence of alcohol, the calming shift from day to night, the joy of skipping class, and the unencumbered nature of the friendships at hand. At this point in time, we see a lust for life emerge and take over. Life becomes a silly game that our protagonist is more than willing to play.
This is an interesting contrast to work at the Library. Both scenarios offer friendships, tasks, and a lackadaisical attitude towards responsibility. While one rises as a challenge to live, explore, and push limits, the other stirs up an impromptu game of Hide and Seek. This lack of effort has it's merits. I never would have found earthquake safety issues if I cared about the job. On some level, my uncaring makes me a better worked. Distance is objectivity.
Baseball players are privy to a severe array of mental hang ups and superstitions. The best baseball players aren't the most talented or driven, but the well balanced. They possess the quiet sort of confidence that's so effective in almost all walks of life. You can see me struggle to write in the afternoon after getting hyped up for it. Coincidence? Probably not.
****
The distinct set of chapters. They are an evolution, ritual, and crutch. They separate each day from the others, distinct entities drifting in space. This makes many days more interesting and fulfilling. This is a good thing. I don't mean to bitch but the task of starting days without connection to the previous brings about tumult, insecurity, and an extreme lack of continuity.
Embarking on an extended task, I connect emotionally rather than intellectually. This makes way for high highs and pursuit of joy, but getting through adversity is extra difficult. The use of emotion can be rooted to insecurity and fears of not being good enough. The awkward afternoon exhibits a quiet acknowledgment of abilities but fear about the ability to access them.
I don't consciously consider the emotions of my day, but a pattern of jumping, running, and silliness emerges for the sole sake of getting myself up for life.
This could be caused by the fact that even though I suck at sports I have never stopped seeing myself as an athlete. I've always believed that heart and effort can overcome ability and circumstance. You can't fake (or even learn) heart and effort. You can only drown in it.
*****
We see many relationships in this film.
Some come with a comfort and familiarity that pushes them to a new level. Both parties approach the beast and let it be what it is. They can't fight or control the beast, their only option is to let the beast do what it wants and accept it. Such submission and dedication is rare to find at such a young age. They know what they have. That's why they can't help but smile.
Some are strained and push themselves harder than they should. We see the characters going after each other, forced to wonder what brings these two together. There is undeniable chemistry but also mutual disrespect. It's been a long strange ride but seeing us in action like this makes it seem like neither of us are trying.
Others are fueled by enthusiasm, laughter, and previously held notions of youth. When doing things associated with youth, enjoyment is evident and self-sustaining. The times don't stop, they build other times. These come unencumbered. They burst forth sporadic and furious, there isn't time to consider them, only to enjoy them. Lost in the moment. This is the blessing. We'll hearken back to these times as long as we're able to remember them.
For a brief moment, you see an encounter with Rick, a 60 year old man in one of my classes. He comes in the library, works his ass off, and serves as a model student. When asked why I missed class I respond that "it was too intense." This was a lie. I skipped class because it was about the existence of God. I didn't want my views and beliefs questioned by mathematical logic and Saint Anselm. I believe self discovered beliefs should be protected and nurtured, questioned naturally by the flow of things and not in a classroom. I fail to mention this to Rick. We're stark contrasts but his approach is probably as deeply steeped as mine. Who am I to pose a threat? This could be an age issue.
You see a strange interaction with one of my Bosses when she inquires about a Farmer's Market. This is because she locks me in a room sometimes. Seriously.
*****
I can analyze, remark, and explore this video until the cow comes home. I have a feeling I've already done so. As hard as I try to put into words the quirks, lessons, and stems of thought, nothing can compare to watching the video itself. I'll be able to watch this video in 50 years (forces of the universe willing) and relive a day of my youth.
We all have an energy, an essence that projects from us through every endeavor we chance to embark on. Understand someone's energy and the rest of their world falls into place. We can't quite understand them, but we can sure as hell see what's there. Personal as it may be, it is beyond our control. Nothing we do can have bearing on it.
I see this film and a Young Man who's trying. He might not be where he wants to be, he might not ever get there. He has an incredibly high opinion of himself, a belief that might not be justified. We don't see him work, care, or take charge until he is the presence of others. Watching him preen and fawn, we get the impression that he is trying to impress us, to make the world love him.
There are moments that speak strongly against the boy from a moralist stance. Jokes about pedophilia, undoubtedly cross a line and exhibit an extreme lack of reverence for the most delicate of matters. The fact that I would say these things, even in a humorous vain, makes me feel lecherous. Maybe they're brought on by the relationship, intoxicants, or other conditions, but they suggest that nothing is held sacred. I didn't mean them, but that doesn't matter.
Even in film, where moments get dipped in formaldehyde for long lasting preservation, the idea of truth slips through our fingers. No one can know for sure what actions are genuine and what are utter bullshit. However, near the end of the film, when clad in a bathrobe, I announce "I'm living the dream". The words don't speak of my belief in this proclamation but my smile sure does.
Living Forever in Last Thursday,
Joel Walkowski
