The Sopranos, episode 602: When It’s Cold I’d Like To Die

This whole episode is a triumph: the way James Gandolfini is able to inhabit a different Tony is mesmerizing & you see in his performance how deep he’s able to go inside the character, how he & Chase have worked together to create this glorious, complex man. Every dream sequence in the series is eerie & spectacular, but this, Tony in his deepest sleep, is its best.

The song that ends the episode, Moby’s When It’s Cold I’d Like to Die with vocals by Mimi Goese (who sounds like Annie Lennox’s ghost) is the perfect melancholic accompaniment to the episode’s theme. The song begins with the line “Where were you when I was lonesome?” My heart breaks.

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Young Hearts Crying by Richard Yates

Young Hearts Crying by Richard Yates

Young Hearts Crying feels like one of those stories about children growing up. The stories usually begin with a cast of characters in elementary school and we watch them grow and change through high school, college and into adulthood. This story portrays our cast beginning in college, in their early 20s, and as they grow into middle-age, we see how each character chooses to change and evolve. The times change around them; some adjust, some resist. Success and failures in relationships, career, and personal health plague each character, each react by either accepting their limitations, challenging themselves to grow, or stagnating.

Stagnation is one of the most crippling fears that grip us as we age. Every character in the novel possesses a varying level of creativity: some are geniuses blessed with talent and success; some are clever minds who spark soon and fizzle, never able to grab hold of what they imagined would be a life-long career of creative success. My favourite character is a creative hobbyist. She throws herself into various creative endeavours: acting; writing; painting. She’s very talented at some art forms, only minimally talented at others, but she throws herself fully into each project, and falls out of each just as easily, her attempts to find herself felt organic and open more to experience than success.

Every character in the novels stays in contact with the others in one form or another throughout the course of the decades-long story. As they age, every meeting feels more forced and uncomfortable. It’s an excellent message I’ve been advocating for years: as we age, we change; we cannot always hold onto the passionate friendships from our 20s into our 40s because circumstance and experience will change us, fundamentally. We don’t stop changing once we reach adulthood; we do it our whole life. There might be people who you find when you’re young that stay with you for life, but chances are better that they won’t, and that’s ok. Live fully inside the time you’re in, and it won’t matter that this relationship that means so much when you’re 25 means nothing when you’re 52. It’s not a detriment of either person, whether in a marriage, friendship, or professional relationship, it all changes. Hold onto the people who are running along the same course as you, let the others go; attempt to do this without bitterness, and if you do come together again, years or decades later, your nostalgia will feel like a pleasant ache, and not as if admiring or loving this person from your past was a bitter mistake.

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Writing Exercise Answers, July 9th 2013

Prompt #1: I was born…
I was born first. My story was the most vivid; the most told; the loveliest; the easiest. I was a gift: easy to unwrap, well presented, just what was wanted.

Prompt #2: When I was five…
When I was five I had already amassed 3 years of memories. I started my record young, first remembering my brother at my mother’s breast, next my doll at my toddler chest. When I was 5 I was a mother for 3 years. My first memory is of wanting what she had; finding and seeing peace that existed only in that moment, only in memory. Now the rosy memory seems a lie. I want nothing of what she has.

Prompt #3: My mother’s father…
My mother’s father has no name. She can’t recall the name of the man who she belongs to biologically and the name my Granddaddy’s wife and sister used is a mystery. My mother’s fathers are nameless, they are titles: “my father” and “Daddy”. The first spoken as a statistic, the second with reverence.

Prompt #4: My dad…
My Dad is a pervert. My Dad is ill. My Dad is brilliant and creative. My Dad is embarrassing. My Dad is fun. My Dad causes both panic and comfort. My Dad is strong and weak. My Dad is Swedish. My Dad is strange. My Dad is tired. My Dad is not wholly loved by anyone.

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Writing Exercise, July 9th 2013

Writing Exercise, July 9th 2013

Write whatever comes to mind after you read each prompt. Write in any style, for as long you please.

Prompt #1: I was born…
Prompt #2: When I was five…
Prompt #3: My mother’s father…
Prompt #4: My dad…

photo credit: Self-portrait writing in my diary, Boston, Massachuetts by Nan Goldin, 1989

Find me now on my new site Les Beehive!

Writing Exercises

Writing Exercises

I’m going to start posting prompts & answers to writing exercises I’m currently working on. Feel free to take the prompts & write your own words!

Find me now on my new site Les Beehive!