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As I write this, I am moving. I am also watching American Splendor. Some of you need to move... or at least move on. ALL of you need to watch American Splendor.
I have to admit that I am more familiar with Paul Giamatti than I am with Harvey Pekar. Despite being a big comic book geek, I never heard of American Splendor before this movie. Then again, I never heard of The Chicken Dance before my friend Roy's wedding when I was 26. I think we all have at least one of those things, where everyone else is so familiar with something that they don't even think about it anymore, yet somehow we have missed any and every reference to it.
American Splendor is a classic tale of the struggle of the anti-hero. He's misunderstood, and despite trying to fit in his real strength is in his ability to stand out. Maybe it's the other way around. Maybe his inability to fit in is what gives him strength. They're both sort of the same.
Anyway, the clear message of the movie is never marry someone who vomits after you kiss her. Or, maybe it's never marry someone whose kisses make you vomit.
The not-so-hard-to-diagnose subtext is about chasing a dream. It's about making your oddities work for you and finding a creative release. When you dig not-so-deep into the psyche of the writer, you find a very clear picture of the person who wrote whatever story you're absorbing. Ask any comic about his upbringing and you'll hear stories about pain and frustration. The comedy is a release. It's therapy. Who do you think reads those comic books with the superheroes performing acts of unbelievable strength and heroism? It ain't Donald Trump. Look at the fans in the stands at sporting events. Not too athletic looking, are they? What about the women who read romance novels? They're not Sandra Bullock. Clearly, those who can't do will be the ones enjoying watching others do. Those who are obsessed with their inability to do will be the ones working within the medium.
As far as moving and moving on goes...
When I first moved to L.A., my mornings would start out with me having to first figure out where I was and then determine if I had to be anywhere. I was so used to moving around, sleeping in my car and leading a completely unstructured life that I woke up not even knowing where I was. Now, thankfully, insomnia has completely ruined my sleep, and I never nod out deep enough or long enough to forget where I am.
I was determined that this would be my last apartment in my current situation of struggle. I thought that when I left this place it would be because I sold a script and it was time to move on to the good life. I dreamt often of taking my cats and my computer (and little else) and leaving the rest for the looters. That's not happening.
Yes, I'm a bit scared. I'm just being honest. I'm putting my well-being in the hands of someone else, and that's NEVER worked out for me. Everything that looked like a good deal when it came to a living situation completely fell apart once the immediate need for me passed. I've barely touched on the insanity of my former roommates, and those experiences paled in comparison to the living situation where I was given a room in the home of someone whose "growing small entertainment company" was supposed to carry me along with it as it grew. It was complete bullshit, I busted my ass for nothing, and there was nothing but chaos in the house 24 hours a day. I didn't even say goodbye when I left - I just ran as fast as I could. There's nothing like a power-mad loser who finds someone in a worse situation and decides its finally their opportunity to lord over someone. Hey, if you can't control your own life, control someone else's.
I'll keep you posted.
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