28 March 2003
Forget it, Jake. It's Tinseltown.
All through this RoadSassy piece, one part nostalgia for the Hollywood that was and one part nausea at the Hollywood that is, you can hear the cry of the disillusioned lover, never denying the heartbreak, but not willing to go through that sort of thing ever again. Who knew the stuff our dreams were made of was just, well, stuff?
[U]nder star bedazzled skies, convertible tops down, nestled in the arm of our nervous dates, we lifted our face to the silver screen and allowed you to take us into your magic. We trusted you with the transport of our hearts and desires, we permitted you use of our sacred thoughts and our most eviscerating pains, we trusted you to pretend to be us, up there on that screen. We trusted you to safeguard the holy drama of the human condition, and to speak our stories, our lives well, with eloquence and passion, dignity and grace.. We trusted you to know us, because you were messengers from our finer selves, to the lands our dreams would never ever quite take us to. So you were our emissaries and you, for a very long time, honored yourselves, and us, by seeking the highest and best there is to being human and saying. "Hey guys.....you can be all that you dream. The human condition is sublime and we are so much a graced and wonderful people. We will share with you how to dream your highest dreams." The American dreams.
And we believed, and we never, ever thought to guard against you.
Why would we? We were on that silver screen, our hopes and our aspirations, larger than life; we were larger than life. Many years passed before it became necessary to cut us down to size.
Read the whole thing. Then drive out toward the local dodecaplex and then keep driving.