I once had an acting teacher in college ask us to do an exercise. "Choose an important story from your life. Tell it first as the greatest story of you life. Then tell the same story again, but this time, tell it as the saddest story of your life"

My whole life has felt like that exercise and tonight was no exception. Quintessential sublime/death.

I've always felt too sensitive for this world. Like I'm cursed with being an open wound. I'm too fucking raw. Always. I get my hopes up at the littlest thing and then plummet when they don't work out. With everything, work, love, friendship.

When I was 7 years old I played a song with Jim Croce, both of us played guitar and sang. It was in Pennsylvania at a fourth of July picnic at my cousin's house. I don't remember what song we played. It wasn't "Roller Derby Queen" I know that for sure, yet I do know all the words to that song and many others of his. I was a big fan and still am.

Tonight my friends Bob and Susan invited me to go see the Gotham Girls Roller Derby at Hunter College. It was the semi finals between the Manhattan Mayhem and the Brooklyn Bombshells. Now, if you haven't figured it out already, whenever I leave my house, my primary mission is to find a wife. It just is. It always has been. I've never just wanted to get laid, it sometimes happens but my intention since I was little, always has been to find and have a girlfriend. I'm into one girl only and at this stage of my life; I want her to turn into my wife at some point.

My life is so fucking solitary. I'm either writing or editing a film. If I'm shooting I'm the boss so I can't really date my crew, they're my employees, and the actresses while fetching, are crazy so they're out. That leaves yoga, the gym, or on the street or subway on the way to yoga or the gym. I don't drink so I don't hang in bars or like to go to places where people are drinking. So when I get invited to an event like the roller derby for instance, while I think it'll be fun and weird and kitsch, I'm really hoping I'll fall in love with a roller derby queen.

Tonight's game was in the Hunter College gym. It's a loaded place for me, a gym, since my first love was basketball. I was extremely good and wanted to be a pro. I was invited to an elite camp called 5 Star as a junior in high school but had a bad week and wasn't recruited for college. Literally the only time in my life I ever quit at something that was a dream of mine was then. After that week, I said fuck it and gave up my dream of being a pro basketball player. My alcoholism and drug addiction took off and I got into writing and directing plays instead. So whenever I'm in a gym, just the smell, the fluorescent lights, the fiberglass backboards, the wood floors... I'm catapulted back to when I used to fill it up in high school and have crowds chant my name. My destiny in the NBA was a heartbeat away in my mind. The rhythm you get into when you are really good at a sport is ridiculous. It's like nothing else. I could drain rainbow jumpers from 30 feet without looking when I was hot. I was so fast I could lose guys a foot taller with ease, steal the ball from anyone I wanted at will and give it back to them before they knew I had stolen it. I loved playing basketball.

I was 16 years old then. My whole life was ahead of me. Although I'm only 44 now and am in stellar shape and look ten years younger, when I'm in a college arena with mainly people in their twenties, I can feel like an old man. I don't feel like and old man but I feel like they think I'm an old man and unless someone happens to know my work and dig it, I'm not going to get taken seriously in a romantic way. Not that I wouldn't at some point, but upon an initial meeting, if someone's a fan then obviously they're going to have more of an interest in me. That's not necessarily a good thing, since they can have all kinds of preconceived misperceptions about me, but at least it's a starter. The power of celebrity, even at my small level is so powerful in our culture. It gives me a context. It's something they can know about me. They like a piece of art I've made and that colors their perception of me. That's not a bad thing or a sycophantic thing. It's just a bit of information about me that's intriguing and for those who like what I do, nice for them. I'm not a stranger, and especially because of the personal nature of my films, people feel like they know me, and they kind of do.

Without that, I'm some old dude in a hoodie and leather jacket trying to "hit" on the roller derby chicks. Which is such bullshit. If I wanted sex, that's the easiest thing in the world to get. I just put out that vibe; anyone can just put out that vibe and people with similar interests will come out of the woodwork. There's no "hitting on" required. Just intention. The "love" intention seems a much harder one to get in synch with.

And the age thing seems completely subjective. Many women I meet couldn't care less how old I am or in fact like that I'm older then they are for all the obvious reasons, and some don't. But I hate feeling on the outs for any reason. Just a school gym brings back such memories (other than the mixed basketball ones) of felling dorky and out of place. Unliked at best, hated at worst. And this was a major clique. Everyone here seemed to know everybody else already so I felt even more of an outsider. But I've never let that stop me.

So, my friends Bob and Susan, who are trying their best to set me up, introduced me to one of the Roller Girls who wasn't actually playing tonight, Ginger Snap. She was a sweet, cute girl with red Aladdin Sane shocks in her blonde pig tails and posed like a pro for photos before the match started. It turned out she was a fan of If Lucy Fell.

"It's one of my favorite movies. My husband laughs at me and says it's the penultimate chick flick." I laughed and said, "Thank you but I take offense at that and will give him shit for it when I meet him" which happened to be a few minutes later and he didn't know who I was or what movie I was talking about for a few minutes which made me feel like an idiot. Sublime/death. She digs me/he couldn't care less.

I'd scoped out all the girls at this point and one girl instantly stood out from all the rest. I mean I loved all the girls on both teams. They were great. The big brawny chicks, the tiny ones all tatted up, but one I was instantly smitten by... Leggs Luthor. She was tall and thin with broad shoulders, thin hips, and looked like Jennifer Connolly's sister. Stunning. When she entered the arena she was first in and waved the Brooklyn Bombshells' flag. She shimmied her hips just a little from side to side and the only thing hotter then her stupid-hot ass was her attitude. But she seemed delicate and smart too, as well as ferocious. She was clearly the best skater out there and I fell for her in a fucking heartbeat.

I'm so tired of being the most interesting one at the table. I'm not saying I'm that interesting, I may bore the cunt out of you but all I know is most people bore the cunt out of me and I desperately want to be inspired by the woman I end up with. This girl inspired me. Now I'm not a fucking moron, I know I hadn't even said a word to her and she might be dumb as an elbow protector but I really didn't have the feeling she was and I really wanted to find out so I asked Ginger Snap to be my tenth grade best friend and suss out Leggs' situation. She said she would and a few minutes later, went over to her as she stretched on the side of the flat track and some of her teammates skated around warming up.

I noticed them talking and at the precise moment Ginger pointed me out across the arena I waved a little too cheerfully on purpose to diffuse any weirdety and announce my intentions as her suitor. She smiled and half-waved back. I wasn't sure about that reaction but then she and another teammate who had been stretching too, rose and began to circle the track to warm up a bit. She skated right by me, feet from where I was sitting track side but didn't even glance at me. I didn't know if she was getting her game face on and really that oblivious to me or whether she was playing it cool. The next time around though, she gave me a cute little wave and flashed a sweet smile when she passed. It was all over. I must marry Leggs Luthor.

To be continued...

Posted by Eric Schaeffer at 7:47 PM

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