And yet he's popped up at various points in my life and moved and inspired me, gave advice, recommended books, made me angry, made me cry, laugh... reminded me to be alive in new or forgotten ways.
I watched "Into the Wild" last night and he did it again. Newly kinetic parts of me today driving me to live in all different directions. Don't get me wrong. He's not the only one. Not even the biggest one. Or close. My husband and children rock my world. But Sean Penn is inspiration I'm willing to share. Everyone has some kind of access to him and should take advantage of at least some of what he's putting out there for us.
I first saw him when I was 15 years old in Franklin, Tennessee. I had heard that a movie was being shot nearby and it sounded much more exciting than the Green Hills Mall, so I went. It was the set of "At Close Range" - the first movie set, the first celebrity I'd seen close up. Well, I once saw Andy Warhol cross the street, and Susan Lucci lived in my town growing up... my dad says we once saw Bette Davis walk into a liquor store when I was tiny... but they were just sightings. I got to stand around a giggle with my girlfriend for this one. Christopher Walken was there, too, but as a culturally bankrupt Tiger Beat reading Duran Duran fan, I had no idea who he was. Chris Penn was in Footloose, so I knew him. But Sean, he was with Madonna. He was the one.
And he seemed pretty unfriendly. And he sent someone over to ask us to leave. "You're distracting the actors," they told us.
Ten years later, I sat outside a little Italian place by my apartment in Greenwich Village with my best friend, Beth, sharing a pasta dish because we were poor and having a glass of red wine because we weren't that poor. A few guys and a transparently thin blonde girl sat at the table next to us. They were behind Beth, so she couldn't see them. But apparently she could feel one of them push his chair too close to hers, because she very pointedly adjusted her seat and cleared her throat to make sure that he knew he was imposing on her personal space. And just as I was saying, "You've got to check out hair on the guy across from me," the gentleman behind her turned to see who was giving him a little shove. It was Tim Robbins. And Sean was the guy with the hair. That pompador from "Dead Man Walking". Gary Oldman and some other guy I didn't recognize were also at the table. And the skinny blonde.
We eavesdropped, but it was hard to hear. They were talking about their "dream" girls. I think Tim Robbins said Raquel Welsh (which happens to be the first poster he has in "Shawshank Redemption"). The guy we couldn't recognize said Anna Nicole Smith. And then there was something about mushroom trips?... or maybe it was mushroom sauce. I don't know.
I passed Sean on the street a few days later and stuck my tongue out at him.
And about a week after that, I was sitting outside at one of the mediocre cafes on MacDougall Street reading a book and waiting for my vanilla milkshake to arrive. And for some reason I knew he was nearby. I turned around to look, and there he was across the street. And as soon as I saw him, he saw me. We smiled the smiles of people who keep running into each other. I waved him over, and to my surprise, he came and sat across from me.
He was coming from (or going to) a birthday party for one of Tim Robbin's kids. My milkshake arrived and I offered him some. He said it looked good, but declined. He asked my name, and then asked how I spelled it. I asked him about books he liked and he told me to read Charles Bukowski. I asked him how old he was (34 or 35, I forget which) and what I had to look forward to. His expression told me to anticipate some suffering but that I would survive. I asked about his children and the look on his face when he spoke of them made me want to lean over and kiss him. But I didn't. Instead, I reminded him that he'd acted like a jerk when I'd seen him 10 years earlier and he apologized. "I was kind of in a bad way at the time."
He advised me not to have a child with someone I wasn't planning to spend my life with, which I'd been considering. He laughed when I asked about Madonna. He was, you know, nice.
I saw him a couple of times after that. Once I was walking with a guy I hardly knew, who was going on and on about celebrities in Manhattan, and was mortified to look up and see him just a few feet away and easily within earshot. He'd just had his hair cut and looked more himself again and I told him so. Another time, just walking down the street to our respective apartments. He had a friend with him, I think his name was Joe, and it was weird. So I left.
I half expected to see him again at 35, but it never happened. But there are the movies, and the appearances on The Colbert Report and that actor's studio show. I did read some Bukowski. Loved the raw and unapologetic writing. But toxic. I picked up Tales of Ordinary Madness while I was pregnant and had to put it down. I was afraid I'd have angry children. I see things in the news... was happy to see him win awards, sad when he and Robin almost split. Sadder still when his brother died.
And he's way over there somewhere. Living his life. Doing his thing. And I'm way over here. And I'm 99.99% sure that I still would have married the right guy and had these gorgeous children and been happy and fulfilled regardless; but sometimes when I see one of his movies, I think maybe he helped me along.
No comments:
Post a Comment