FILM REVIEW: Slacker (1991, Austin, and I)

Did you miss me? Absence makes the heart grow fonder, after all. After writing over 660 blog posts in six years, it was time for a break, so I took it. I’m not sorry I did. Some might say that makes me a slacker, defined in the pejorative sense: “A person regarded as one of a large group or generation of young people (especially in the early to mid 1990s) characterized by apathy, aimlessness, and lack of ambition” (Wikipedia). I may be guilty as charged, or at least I resemble that remark. But director Richard Linklater had a more positive meaning in mind when he made his influential, independent, experimental yet really interesting and fun film, Slacker:

“Slackers might look like the left-behinds of society, but they are actually one step ahead, rejecting most of society and the social hierarchy before it rejects them. The dictionary defines slackers as people who evade duties and responsibilities. A more modern notion would be people who are ultimately being responsible to themselves and not wasting their time in a realm of activity that has nothing to do with who they are or what they might be ultimately striving for.”[24]

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The Cars: Mood, Motion, and Music

As I drove around a borrowed car doing my job today, numerous songs by the band The Cars played. The reason was that lead singer Ric Ocasek had died of heart disease at age 75. For many Americans, The Cars are a band whose music instantly transports your mind back in time. It brought back some memories of driving my first car as a youth (a VW bug).

Their songs were a big part of the soundtrack of my teenage years. When their first album was released, I was just a couple of years shy of the perfect age of hearing their music and seeing their videos on MTV. But I soon caught on and caught up and became a fan. I even was in a garage band that played their song “My Best Friend’s Girl.” As I drove on my job, the band played on.

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Nostalgia for My Grandmother on Winter Solstice, the Longest Night of the Year

It’s winter solstice here in Austin, Texas, United States of America, and I’m feeling nostalgic. Not only because of the holidays, or working in a place with a long history here in town and in the country that’s closing down, or because a year ago I had ridden my bike alot more, and the year before that, even more. It’s mostly because my maternal grandmother died 20 years ago on December 22, 1998. This post is dedicated to her memory. (Check back after the holidays for more photos.)

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