Hello dear reader
Been a long spell since the fool rambled that wasn’t half baked poetry or some plug for something or other.
Rutger Hauer died today. I’m not really one of those that gets over sentimental about dead celebrities. Besides my father, death and I have an understanding. It happens. It sucks. But the sadness is a selfish sadness. We mourn because we miss them. So when someone dies I channel that sadness into memory. I live in the good ones and understand that death is undeniable. I flip the switch and go analytical. It’s a poor coping mechanism. It builds up inside of you and manifests in strange ways. I bottled up my grief for my father and lost my mind for a while. Got real OCD. Manic all the time. But I didn’t know it. Not then. I just rode the waves and destroyed everything around me for a few years.
Not my best time. Not at all. The depression that always sat on my shoulder, my pet raven shitting on my clean shirts.
But with celebrities I think dang, no new stuff from them and go on with the life they never really influenced. But I was hit with a memory of Rutger Hauer today.
My first memory of Rutger Hauer is always going to be Ladyhawke. My worst memory of him as well. It was always on during the free Showtime or HBO weekend as a kid. I was all amped for whatever big movie was on there because we had 13 channels. There was no getting the next level and Nickelodeon and such. Nope. Poor white trash right here. So I lived for those weekends. We didn’t have a VCR. Those were special weekend when we got one from the video store/liquor store twice a year. But every time we got the good channels free that damned movie was on constantly. And I was too young to appreciate it. For the longest time I was angry with Rutger Hauer. It wasn’t his fault, but he was the one who caught the blame.
Later a friend made me watch Blade Runner. Soon after I rented everything I could find him in. He was brilliant in nearly everything. Blade Runner has since become one of my depression movies (along with Fury Road), so when I cannot deal I put one of the two on. I know I made this all about me, but Rutger and I didn’t know each other. Our only interaction was me watching him kick ass. When Bowie, Lemmy and Christopher Lee died I knew the gravy train of not knowing who most of the dead celebs were was over.
Then Lemmy and Bowie died.
Now I’m more in touch with myself. I don’t really lock away anything. Anxiety at times because I know it is unfounded and best ignored.
So rest in peace, Mr. Hauer. I don’t have cable anymore so you cannot sabotage free weekend. But maybe I will watch Ladyhawke this weekend. You know, see if you still piss me off in it.
And think back to renting VCRs. Seeing Ghostbusters and RoboCop. That weekend we got Young Guns and I watched it on repeat. My dad and I getting cheesy horror to watch together. I still remember when we discovered Troma and Toxic Avenger. The first hero from New Jersey. Or him catching a young me pausing the scene in Return of the Living Dead, when Trash was topless. Don’t you dare judge me. I was at the right age for that. Might be what set me in the path of punk rock.
All those moments will be lost in time, like tears in rain. Time to die.