Bottle

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3 Comments

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3 responses to “Bottle

  1. stewartparker

    One night my girlfriend and I decided to rent a movie at Blockbuster. Considerate guy (i.e. pushover) that I am, I let her choose. To my horror, she selected Kevin Costner’s “Message in a Bottle.” We got back to my house, and while I was disappointed with the selection, I thought, “well, at least we will get to snuggle during the movie, and I will get brownie points for thoughtfully sharing a sentimental, emotionally-complex cinematic experience with her, which will hopefully conclude with us making out.” No such luck.

    After putting the movie in the machine, I returned to the couch and sat next to her. She laid her head in my lap, which was nice, but by the opening credits, she was sound asleep. And I was stuck. I didn’t want to move, because she was obviously tired, and I did not want her to wake up. The remote control was on the other side of her, and I could not reach it. Out of sheer boredom, I watched the film.

    As expected, it sucked. It was sad and sappy and depressing. The chemistry lacked credibility. The acting was luke-warm. I’ve seen infomercials I more enjoyed.

    During the end credits, right on cue, she woke up. She stretched and asked sleepily “how was it?” “How was it? It freaking sucked, that’s how it was,” I thought. I said, “oh, it was pretty good.” “Well, I’m tired, and I have to work in the morning. I’m going home to go to bed,” she said.

    That’s right. I watched an entire Kevin Costner chick flick, by myself, without a single derisive giggle or sarcastic aside, and what do I get for my troubles? A cramp in my leg. A peck goodnight. And two hours of my life I will never get back.

    Needless to say, I broke up with her immediately thereafter. Nobody does me like that and gets away with it. I almost wish I was kidding.

  2. bedlam1313

    In many of my dreams, people I have known who have died are alive again. I often approach them in my dream with the knowledge that I know they are dead, and they know they are dead, but they just happen to be alive for the moment. I usually ask them, “what’s it like to be dead?” They are always very calm in their explanation, and I always feel sad (and guilty for bothering them with such an obvious question; I thankfully do not ask them for their autograph).

    I suppose this dream content is related to my behavior to save everything in shoeboxes; every ticket stub, every greeting card, every souvenir from elementary school field trips. Once they are packed away, I rarely look at them again. They apparently have no value in using them, even if “using” means wistfully caressing them. It’s like collecting bottles for eventual redemption but never redeeming. I am tired of romanticizing the past. It is pointless and lonely.

    I find it impossibly hard to throw out these shoeboxes. I have done it, and it feels as if I have given up. On what, I don’t know. But it feels like dying.

    As for my dead people dreams, I have yet to try and extinguish them. Probably because I never fired a gun. Especially a shotgun, which is the weapon of choice for eliminating zombies. But, oh, would I like to take a shotgun to my cursed memories.

  3. Surly Temple

    Bottle Up and Explode is one of my favorite titles of Elliott Smith. I love Elliott Smith. He is just one in the series of artists with whom I resonate, which can be summed up as a motley collection of artists my boss refers to as “Drowned Guy,” “That Dead Guy,” and “Ole Steak Knife.”

    My boss maintains that if someone dies tragically and painfully, it ups the chances that I will be interested and a fan of said someone. I’d try to refute him, except he perpetually brings up Keith Moon. Oh, and Jeff Buckley. (that’s Drowned Guy, for those who do not have a boss who verbally abuses their music taste.)

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