I often look back at my childhood through rose tinted glasses, the Seventies and Eighties were fantastic, but other periods of my life I look at through a glass darkly, the 21st century having been especially one massive disappointment. Don’t you love the phrase ‘through a glass darkly’ and the rest of the words that accompany said phrase, ‘when I was a child, I spake as a child, I understood as a child, I thought as a child: but when I became a man, I put away childish things. For now we see through a glass, darkly; but then face to face: now I know in part: but then I shall know even as also I am known.’ 1 Corinthians 11 and 12.
Now I’m no religious person you don’t have to be to appreciate those words. I’m not good with words myself, I’m a product of my environment, a perfect example of the area in which I was born, yup I’m a frikkin’ idiot, but I can appreciate my language being used in a manner that can best be described as beautiful.
Mostly when I look back in time it’s pop culture I’m happily nostalgic about, there’s not much else, other than gratitude for the parenting I received, I certainly don’t have good memories of school or national government, the Tories throughout the late Seventies and the entirety of the Eighties were a fucking nightmare.
But what’s the point looking back at things, anything, in anger? The past it’s gone, happened pissed you right off but gone now never to happen again, it’s like smoke blown away in the wind. And yet people regurgitate the past all the time, sometimes negatively, look at all the hatred in the world, Irish against Irish, Israeli’s against Palestinians and the Lebanese, Jew against Muslim against Christian against worshippers of the magical spaghetti monster who lives somewhere in the sky. The anger it seems never ending at times.
It’s weird, the past, up until 2009 I was a fan of Liverpool FC, I loved football, lived it, breathed it, but then I stopped, I still watch highlights of the Premier League on Match of the Day but I barely know any of the players, or managers, but I can remember, vividly, players and managers from the Seventies and Eighties, I barely remember anyone from today’s movies or moments that occur during modern movies but I can remember everything from Jaws (1975), The Thing (1982), Ghostbusters (1984), and probably every word the character Ash says in Evil Dead 2 (1987). I’m infected with memories from Seventies and Eighties comic books and right now I’m feeling like Adam Warlock, Starlin’s version of the character, I’m feeling like a Byronic hero all deep and brooding but ask me to remember old friends, old work colleagues, and my memory draws a blank I’m like an imbecile but one who can tell you everything about Eighties Superman, by John Byrne, but nothing about school friends or former acquaintances, if I haven’t spoken to a person for a year I’ve probably forgotten who they are and yet I remember every single issue of Byrne’s Superman.
I started the Eighties as a kid and I ended the Eighties as an adult, my eighteenth birthday was December 30th 1989, and I’ve got to confess I stopped paying attention once I hit adulthood, I gave up, I knew nothing was going to be as good as everything that had come before and you know what? I was right, jeez I was a clever kid.
While I was writing this I was at work watching High Fidelity, having already watched Fever Pitch, both movies are from Nick Hornby stories, both are about looking back into the past, Fever Pitch is rose tinted and High Fidelity is through a glass darkly the main character being terribly angry about failed relationships in his past and how he had been hurt, until it’s revealed he is a major asshole and kinda deserves to be alone and I figure at the end of the movie his relationship lasts perhaps another six months and then his girlfriend, Laura, leaves him again because he is such an asshole. Or maybe she doesn’t I’ve always figured women have boyfriends that are assholes because they, the women, are also assholes. I’m not sure if anyone else has noticed this fact. But it’s true, sometimes it might be hard to figure out it’s true, perhaps the woman seems so nice but believe she’s an asshole.
But Cusack’s Rob has so much anger for all these ladies that have, apparently, hurt him heart and soul, at no point does he put the past behind him he even drags up girlfriends from when he was a kid, who remembers girlfriends, or boyfriends, from their childhood? I can’t remember the girlfriends from my adult years they’re like nice meals that were great, hmm tasty, at the time but now forgotten. Besides Rob only gets Laura back because her Dad dies and if he hadn’t would they have ended up back together?
Anger and the past are crazy things they’ll eat you up inside, if you let them, you know all that anger and the past let it go, the past is already gone so why hang on to the anger? It doesn’t matter whom you are angry at, or why you’re angry, just let it go why let people make you angry? And why let things that happened or have been done to you make you angry? If we had access to a Tardis the past, and our anger, might matter because we could go back in time and kill that fucker, before they were born, or stop past you from tumbling into the situation that now makes you angry. Unfortunately a Tardis doesn’t exist so we can’t alter the past so why keep being angry about it?
‘You’ll never change what’s been and gone.’