Retardation: a celebration

Why is it so damnably cliche'ed that getting drunk is so wonderful? Sitting at thee bar with Justin and Megan was a chore because every non-conversational moment was spent in execrable reflection of where my life has gone wrong, but now sitting at home I am content and pleased. Put into drunken words, my relationships with others are clarified and finite: she's a friend, he's a brother, she's a doll. C'est facile!

err ... add a cedilla to that second 'c'.

Sitting on the cusp of 2am, I am torn: what should I watch? I just acquired a copy of Some Kind of Wonderful. I don't know whether that's a good movie. I'd argue that it's the best John Hughes movie, but such a statement could be a product of lazy definition (Hughes merely scripted and produced; the actual direction was Howard Deutch's) and nostalgia. I remember seeing Some Kind of Wonderful in its original theatrical release, when I was on the cusp of puberty and thus had only the dimmest understanding of how a tomboyish girl-drummer best-friend would be the answer to all of life's problems.

Could a kid born after Reagan's first term find the film as meaningful and heartbreaking? Here was arguably the last gasp of the Eighties: the unique fey artiness of the Eighties (Eric Stoltz) is ready and willing to "sell out" to hollow perceived success (Lea Thompson) but is ultimately reminded of its unbreakable kinship with working-class yet informed-and-cultured rock & roll (Mary Stuart Masterson). At the end of the movie, the Eighties are ready to graduate from high school and do the cover art for their girlfriend's new record deal while still keeping their Dexy's Midnight Runners albums in mint condition.

By the time the Eighties become the Nineties and have kids ... yeah, I dunno. John Hughes' next movies included Planes, Trains, and Automobiles, She's Having a Baby, and Uncle Buck; these are not optimistic signs. If the Eighties continue on the path we'd like, the best we can hope is that they became cool parents who work office jobs to survive above the poverty line while still volunteering off-days at WFMU. Ultimately the Eighties are gradually stripped of influence in popular culture. Where once Philip Glass was the musical guest on Saturday Night Live, now we've got Ashlee Simpson. And that's OK -- SNL sucks anyway; might as well watch a good flick from back-in-the-day instead.