This year I found myself neck-deep in my own past. It began with Facebook, which delivered to me everyone I’ve ever known, loved, despised and/or kissed; most recently came a request to write essays about my childhood, which sent me diving into old journals and quickly concluding with a shudder that perhaps the past is meant to stay firmly put.
But the piece de resistance is this weekend—my 20 year high school reunion.
To distract myself from freaking out, I re-watched the hilarious movie Grosse Point Blank. Here are a few of my favorite lines to tide you over until next week when perhaps I’ll have some gems of my own to report. (Oh, yes, I am definitely taking a notebook.)
Marcella: You know, when you start getting invited to your ten year high school reunion, time is catching up. Martin Q. Blank: Are you talking about a sense of my own mortality or a fear of death? Marcella: Well, I never really thought about it quite like that. Martin Q. Blank: Did you go to yours? Marcella: Yes, I did. It was just as if everyone had swelled.
—
Paul: Okay, well, I’ll see you at the “I’ve peaked and I’m kidding myself” party.
—
Amy: Where ya been these last ten years? Debi: Yeah, where ya been, “Marv”? Amy: Ya look great! Martin Q. Blank: Thanks. I work at Kentucky Fried Chicken. Amy: Ya do not! Martin Q. Blank: I do! I sell biscuits and gravy all over the Southland.
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Martin Q. Blank: Do you *really* believe that there’s some stored up conflict that exists between us? There *is* no us. *We* don’t exist. So who do you wanna hit, man? It’s not me. Now whaddya wanna do here, man? Bob: [Pulls out a folded up piece of paper] Martin Q. Blank: I don’t know what that is. Bob: These are my words. Martin Q. Blank: It’s a poem? See, that’s the problem… express yourself, Bob! Go for it. Bob: “When I feel… quiet… when… I feel… blue…” Martin Q. Blank: You know, I think that is *terrific*, what you have right there. Really, I liked it, a lot. I wouldn’t sell the dealership or anything but, I’m tellin’ ya… it’s intense! Bob: There’s… more. Martin Q. Blank: Okay, would ya mind, just skip to the end. Bob: To… the very end? “For a while.” Martin Q. Blank: Whew. That’s good man. Bob: “For a while.” Martin Q. Blank: That’s excellent! Bob: You wanna do some blow? Martin Q. Blank: No I don’t. Bob: [Hugs Martin]
—
Paul: Okay, well, I’ll see you at the “I’ve peaked and I’m kidding myself” party.
—
Amy: Where ya been these last ten years? Debi: Yeah, where ya been, “Marv”? Amy: Ya look great! Martin Q. Blank: Thanks. I work at Kentucky Fried Chicken. Amy: Ya do not! Martin Q. Blank: I do! I sell biscuits and gravy all over the Southland.
—
Martin Q. Blank: Do you *really* believe that there’s some stored up conflict that exists between us? There *is* no us. *We* don’t exist. So who do you wanna hit, man? It’s not me. Now whaddya wanna do here, man? Bob: [Pulls out a folded up piece of paper] Martin Q. Blank: I don’t know what that is. Bob: These are my words. Martin Q. Blank: It’s a poem? See, that’s the problem… express yourself, Bob! Go for it. Bob: “When I feel… quiet… when… I feel… blue…” Martin Q. Blank: You know, I think that is *terrific*, what you have right there. Really, I liked it, a lot. I wouldn’t sell the dealership or anything but, I’m tellin’ ya… it’s intense! Bob: There’s… more. Martin Q. Blank: Okay, would ya mind, just skip to the end. Bob: To… the very end? “For a while.” Martin Q. Blank: Whew. That’s good man. Bob: “For a while.” Martin Q. Blank: That’s excellent! Bob: You wanna do some blow? Martin Q. Blank: No I don’t. Bob: [Hugs Martin]
Okay, enough of that. Off I go!