'Til The Cows Come Home

The Wheels On The Bus Go 'Round And 'Round

Like a bad homosexual, I missed the theatrical release of John Cameron Mitchell's Shortbus. I picked up the DVD during one of my recent Amazon.com shopping binges and got a chance to sit down and watch it last night.

I expected to like the film, or at least to appreciate it. But I wasn't prepared to be moved by it. As the film started and the plot began to unfold, I wasn't that invested in what was going on with the characters. I thought, "It's a great premise, but l don't really have much in common with these folk." By the end of the movie I found out how wrong I was. These were people so in need of freedom from themselves that they were unable to lead fulfilling lives. Something about the beauty of the release that most of them achieve in the end struck me. I sat back, took a breath, and realized how much I am in need of one myself.

Now, I'm not saying that my life isn't fulfilling or that I'm not happy. I have thought that “things” have been in a pretty solid place lately. But...I know I'm clearly holding a lot back. Not necessarily sex- or relationship-wise, as the folks in the film, but in a more general sense. Creatively, spiritually, psychologically, professionally, interpersonally. I'm stuck in so many ways. It hadn’t bothered me much and I’d more or less written it off as just the way things are evolving for me at this point in my life. But I was jealous of the realizations these characters had achieved in their 110 minutes on screen and wondered when mine would come.

After I finished watching the film, I felt like I needed some air. I decided to go for a late-night walk to get the early edition of the Sunday Times . Music geek that I am, I had ordered the Shortbus soundtrack before I had seen the film, based solely on the recommendation of friends. I waited until seeing the movie to actually listen to it, which was a wise move. The final song of the film, "In The End" by Scott Matthew*, was still stuck in both my head and my heart. I grabbed my iPod, I queued up to that track and headed out the door and into the night.

I'm still not entirely sure what happened. Instead of going towards the main avenue and to the newsstand, I went in the opposite direction to the quieter residential blocks between 30th Avenue and Broadway. I got to the corner and looked towards the elevated subway tracks. In that moment, my senses sort of...collided...and I felt overwhelmed. The sky was partly clear but there was definitely a sense of the coming nor'easter in the air, one of those storms you can almost smell...there was almost a haunting nostalgia that I got from watching the N train roll past on the tracks over the street...the music and the lyrics in my ears...I suddenly found myself crying there on the corner.

It was a short cry. I wasn’t sobbing, wasn’t banging my fists on the ground screaming, “Why, God, why?” I wasn’t sad. I was just…what was I? I still haven’t figured it out.

I collected myself, which didn’t take long, and wound my way through a few more of the quiet blocks before heading back to 30th Avenue. I turned off the iPod and removed my headphones, just in case the night decided to give me some answers. It didn’t. I guess I’ll have to do that part myself.

* Click here to purchase the song or entire soundtrack on iTunes.

Posted by mak at April 15, 2007 6:52 PM