It’s an interesting thing, sometimes a comforting thing, to think on an artist and have all that thinking taking you on a timeline of your life with another. In my timeline, Aaron.
So I’m thinking of Philip Seymour Hoffman and thinking of Aaron. For Aaron, PSH is Synecdoche and “Even though the world goes on for eons and eons, you are here for a fraction of a fraction of a second,” is Love Liza. For me, he is Magnolia and, mistakenly, The Anniversary Party, which is actually John C. Reilly. For both of us, PSH is The Master, The Master, The Master, and “What color are my eyes?”
We saw Synecdoche, New York when it came out in in the fall of 2008. That was after I quit one job but before I got laid off from another. It was after we bought one house but before we bought another. It was before we had kids, before we even started trying to have kids, before we knew how utterly and tragically and fantastically our life would change once we had kids. It was after a really good summer. It was during a season of Supper Clubs. I was but 32! Aaron saw it twice. And cried big thundering tears both times. Mystifying to you? Mystifying to me, too. More often than not, I don’t go to where Aaron goes when I do an art, when I do a Baldessari, a Dylan, a Warhola, a Kubrick’s Dream Story, an On Michael Jackson, a Fitzcarraldo; I don’t see that doorway, I don’t have that key. More often than not, I want Aaron back in my room, but I’m trying, trying, trying to join him where he goes.
I don’t know if you knew, but it’s been a hard year for the Brooklyn-based Balkans.
We’ve got twins, is one reason.
We got kids under five, is another reason.
We live in a busy city, is a reason.
One of us got a leg cut off, is a reason.
One of us is bossy and controlling and a bitch, is a reason.
One of us is agro and passive and a dick, is a reason.
One of us has no idea how to load a dishwasher, one of us is irresponsible with bills, one of us never airs complaints but then unleashes a torrent of bitter frustration and wrongedness, one of us picks fights, one of us says horrible things, one of us says unforgivable things, one of us never gets enough sleep, one of us takes strange pills, one of us never reaches out, one of us reaches out to everyone else but, one of us does more works harder, one of us works harder does more, one of us has bad posture, one of us has a bad gut, one of us stays up until 2 am, one of us wakes up at 5 am.
But, we’ve got The Master. We have the Larry McMurtry I gave him and the Mekons he gave me. We don’t have the last two LCD shows, but we have the third to the last. We have our delightfully ruining trip to Joshua Tree. We’ve got our timeline. It’s true, I admit it (wouldn’t you?), I have wanted Aaron to be a different sort of way and for us to have had a different sort of day, but a deeper true is that I want our timeline and all of it’s painful learning experiences to remain; I want to keep being baffled by his complete and burying addition to art.
In the sadness of losing part of our favorite art, I am sustained to remember, because it is true that it is not always easy to remember, that my love is my Aaron.