The Interview
"What you see isn't always what you get ... At least, not with me."
As we stroll down the waterfront of the Hudson River, in an area of Jersey City known as Paulus Hook, I watch the charismatic young film student from the Baltimore, Maryland, suburb of Linthicum inspect his adopted new surroundings. He's watching the young business types leave the Goldman Sachs building next to his apartment ... watching as they head towards the PATH station and the Ferry, heading back into the city or further out into New Jersey towards home. He walks slowly, as though he has nowhere in particular he wants to be.
"Maybe everyone is like that. Maybe no one is what they seem."
I sense the faux insightfulness of this comment, and as he sighs, my belief is confirmed that he's just saying that to say something. Aside from a few comments like that, he hasn't said much.
What makes you different than how you seem, I ask.
His eyes shift around, uncomfortably, as though something inside him seeks an escape route from this line of conversation. He inhales deeply and holds it. Then he lets the air escape noiselessly, his chest visibly deflating.
"What have you heard about me? What do people say about me?"
I have to think about this. From his friends, I've heard many different things: that he's funny, constantly moving, a great friend, a good listener, very friendly ... and that he can be "very intense sometimes." One of his former coworkers at a small restaurant at which he once waited tables said that his presence on the floor was "something akin to a predator stalking his prey." Not that he was out to hunt anyone; rather, that he was watching for something that might need his attention - a customer in need of a refill, a plate needing to be cleared from a table, or a credit card to be rung up. I tell him about these comments by his peers.
He laughs. And nods.
"I've been told I look angry and intense, yes. And I can be. I'm not really like that for the most part. Not on the outside, anyway."
He pauses and again, his presence changes. Like he's fighting with himself about something.
What do you mean?
"I'm a nice person, most of the time. I try to be, anyway. People say I anger easily - I'm always mad about something. JJ says I worry a lot. My family has told me I need to work on controlling my anger. I'd say that considering what I am dealing with, I'm doing a good job."
That comment was truly insightful. I could sense the depth of meaning there. I want to get him to pursue this line of thought.
What are you dealing with, I ask him.
He stops walking. He turns to look at me, then heads to a bench by the water. We sit down and he stares off at New York City.
"Imagine that, instead of just the frustration you feel when you're angry, imagine that ... you know what I mean when I say 'frustration,' right? You know how you get frustrated and you feel warm because of how the blood, I don't know, boils? I can't explain it any better."
I tell him that I understand. I've been angry before. I have the occasional flash of road rage, complete with hand gestures and horn honking.
"No ... no, not even close. Imagine that instead of just that warm feeling, imagine that your entire being is washed over with a hot madness. That you feel as though a dragon is scorching through your veins and a charred blackness has engulfed you from within. Imagine that all your thoughts and feelings have been replaced by pure and uncontrollable hatred. And imagine that it's like a tidal wave of this emotion crashing into you on the shore. You can't fight that. You can't ride it out. It's the most painful thing you know ... you don't feel anything else but that anger. And I feel it all the time."
For someone as angry as he claims to be, he's pretty calm right now. He looks at me, catching me staring at him. He laughs. I almost think he's joking with me.
"Not right now. I mean it happens a lot. I don't get angry ... things make me mad, stupid superficial things like someone cutting me off or the President saying something really stupid. But that's nothing. It's the really weird things that trigger that feeling. Once, I was heading off on a trip with a friend's family and was traveling with my friend's brother and sister. JJ was with us, and as we were about to leave, I called "Shotgun," cause, you know, I don't know how these guys handle that, but I'm 6'3" or 6'4" - depending on what doctor's office I'm at - and I need the legroom of the front seat. Well, his sister called "Shotgun" earlier that evening ... in the house ... like an hour before we left. The brother wouldn't leave until I gave up the front seat to his sister. She left the seat all the way back and I had no leg room ... for an hour and a half ride. I spent, honestly, forty-five minutes riding out one of those tidal waves of pure hatred."
"I tried to explain that to my friend and JJ later that night, but they don't understand. No one ever understands. Hatred isn't an emotion for me ... it's a state of being. I am not just angry, I am Hate itself."
He's trembling now. Just slightly. His eyes are narrowed to slits and he watches a Water Taxi leave the dock nearby. I don't say anything ... he's doing just fine on his own.
"That's not even the worst part. The worst part is knowing that I get this angry. Imagine how Bruce Banner feels after he has returned to his own self and sees the damage he did as the Incredible Hulk. There's a lot of guilt. And it becomes engulfing, too. You spend a lot of time feeling like the world will hate you in return for what you are, the monster inside."
He stops and turns to look at me, and his face is innocent and very matter of fact.
"I suffer from depression. I never bothered to treat it with like medicine or anything. I saw a counselor for several weeks. I don't know why I'm telling you this, but I don't care. This interview is about truth, right? I'm not gonna be one of those guys who thinks every aspect of their life is too private to share - people want to know about me? I'll be honest with them. Then again, I don't want it to sound like I'm complaining about everything. There are tons of people out there who have it a lot worse than I do, or did, or probably ever will. I got lucky ... but I still have my own problems."
What about JJ?
"What about him?"
Well, do you work these problems out with him?
"We ... have our issues from time-to-time. That's every couple, though."
He frowns.
"Oh, you mean do I talk to him about these things? Sometimes ... I don't really talk to anyone about these things. I usually have entire conversations with myself sometimes. They're not productive, but I don't like to drop my problems on other people, even JJ or my family. I deal with these things on my own. I always have ... it's hard to explain to other people what happens when I go through these little cycles."
Someone must understand, though. Other people have these problems, too.
"Maybe."
He gets up and we start walking back towards the apartment. He was busy working on a script for a short film he is working on and didn't want to go too far away; thus our short stroll by the water's edge.
"Maybe other people have these problems. Maybe other people will understand. Sometimes, I think it's worth telling them - it will help them deal with me in these situations. Other times, it seems trivial, not worth bothering them. I love JJ, and it's important that I try to be honest with him and that we help each other when we have problems. But this is different. This is a personal demon that haunts me always ... this is my dragon. I fight this myself. When I get angry, I later feel guilty and fear rejection by other people. This leads to depression and self-loathing. But I always break free ... it's like walking the line between the Light Side and the Dark Side. Knowing those places helps me. For what it's worth, I understand people really well, I think. And knowing the Dark Side of myself lets me write characters with depth - at least I hope it does. Who knows? Maybe I write stupid, superficial characters and I just think they have depth because they're like me."
He laughs and we both watch the Light Rail pass by.
"I don't know. Once I leave those dark places, I feel compelled to accomplish things. I feel motivated. The other extreme in the cycle is a desire to do things, to do important things.
Like making your films?
"Exactly! I leave these cycles with an awareness that if I don't do something, then I really am wasting my time. When I trust myself, I make good choices - I make the right decisions. I've been blessed with a support group of people who encourage me, despite the odds that surround my picks. I have a family that would do anything to help me and a boyfriend who loves me and supports me - what else do I need?"
I sense he is anxious to get back to his apartment and start writing.
You need to get back to work, don't you?
He laughs.
"Yes, I would like to go back up and write some more now."
What will you do when you're done writing?
"Honestly, I don't know ... but I'll figure it out. I always do. I'll get where I need to go."
As I watch him head into the building, I can see from his stride and the intense look in his eyes ... the way he stalks back to his den, just like a forest predator bringing home its prize ... he'll get where he needs to go. Of that, I am certain.
As we stroll down the waterfront of the Hudson River, in an area of Jersey City known as Paulus Hook, I watch the charismatic young film student from the Baltimore, Maryland, suburb of Linthicum inspect his adopted new surroundings. He's watching the young business types leave the Goldman Sachs building next to his apartment ... watching as they head towards the PATH station and the Ferry, heading back into the city or further out into New Jersey towards home. He walks slowly, as though he has nowhere in particular he wants to be.
"Maybe everyone is like that. Maybe no one is what they seem."
I sense the faux insightfulness of this comment, and as he sighs, my belief is confirmed that he's just saying that to say something. Aside from a few comments like that, he hasn't said much.
What makes you different than how you seem, I ask.
His eyes shift around, uncomfortably, as though something inside him seeks an escape route from this line of conversation. He inhales deeply and holds it. Then he lets the air escape noiselessly, his chest visibly deflating.
"What have you heard about me? What do people say about me?"
I have to think about this. From his friends, I've heard many different things: that he's funny, constantly moving, a great friend, a good listener, very friendly ... and that he can be "very intense sometimes." One of his former coworkers at a small restaurant at which he once waited tables said that his presence on the floor was "something akin to a predator stalking his prey." Not that he was out to hunt anyone; rather, that he was watching for something that might need his attention - a customer in need of a refill, a plate needing to be cleared from a table, or a credit card to be rung up. I tell him about these comments by his peers.
He laughs. And nods.
"I've been told I look angry and intense, yes. And I can be. I'm not really like that for the most part. Not on the outside, anyway."
He pauses and again, his presence changes. Like he's fighting with himself about something.
What do you mean?
"I'm a nice person, most of the time. I try to be, anyway. People say I anger easily - I'm always mad about something. JJ says I worry a lot. My family has told me I need to work on controlling my anger. I'd say that considering what I am dealing with, I'm doing a good job."
That comment was truly insightful. I could sense the depth of meaning there. I want to get him to pursue this line of thought.
What are you dealing with, I ask him.
He stops walking. He turns to look at me, then heads to a bench by the water. We sit down and he stares off at New York City.
"Imagine that, instead of just the frustration you feel when you're angry, imagine that ... you know what I mean when I say 'frustration,' right? You know how you get frustrated and you feel warm because of how the blood, I don't know, boils? I can't explain it any better."
I tell him that I understand. I've been angry before. I have the occasional flash of road rage, complete with hand gestures and horn honking.
"No ... no, not even close. Imagine that instead of just that warm feeling, imagine that your entire being is washed over with a hot madness. That you feel as though a dragon is scorching through your veins and a charred blackness has engulfed you from within. Imagine that all your thoughts and feelings have been replaced by pure and uncontrollable hatred. And imagine that it's like a tidal wave of this emotion crashing into you on the shore. You can't fight that. You can't ride it out. It's the most painful thing you know ... you don't feel anything else but that anger. And I feel it all the time."
For someone as angry as he claims to be, he's pretty calm right now. He looks at me, catching me staring at him. He laughs. I almost think he's joking with me.
"Not right now. I mean it happens a lot. I don't get angry ... things make me mad, stupid superficial things like someone cutting me off or the President saying something really stupid. But that's nothing. It's the really weird things that trigger that feeling. Once, I was heading off on a trip with a friend's family and was traveling with my friend's brother and sister. JJ was with us, and as we were about to leave, I called "Shotgun," cause, you know, I don't know how these guys handle that, but I'm 6'3" or 6'4" - depending on what doctor's office I'm at - and I need the legroom of the front seat. Well, his sister called "Shotgun" earlier that evening ... in the house ... like an hour before we left. The brother wouldn't leave until I gave up the front seat to his sister. She left the seat all the way back and I had no leg room ... for an hour and a half ride. I spent, honestly, forty-five minutes riding out one of those tidal waves of pure hatred."
"I tried to explain that to my friend and JJ later that night, but they don't understand. No one ever understands. Hatred isn't an emotion for me ... it's a state of being. I am not just angry, I am Hate itself."
He's trembling now. Just slightly. His eyes are narrowed to slits and he watches a Water Taxi leave the dock nearby. I don't say anything ... he's doing just fine on his own.
"That's not even the worst part. The worst part is knowing that I get this angry. Imagine how Bruce Banner feels after he has returned to his own self and sees the damage he did as the Incredible Hulk. There's a lot of guilt. And it becomes engulfing, too. You spend a lot of time feeling like the world will hate you in return for what you are, the monster inside."
He stops and turns to look at me, and his face is innocent and very matter of fact.
"I suffer from depression. I never bothered to treat it with like medicine or anything. I saw a counselor for several weeks. I don't know why I'm telling you this, but I don't care. This interview is about truth, right? I'm not gonna be one of those guys who thinks every aspect of their life is too private to share - people want to know about me? I'll be honest with them. Then again, I don't want it to sound like I'm complaining about everything. There are tons of people out there who have it a lot worse than I do, or did, or probably ever will. I got lucky ... but I still have my own problems."
What about JJ?
"What about him?"
Well, do you work these problems out with him?
"We ... have our issues from time-to-time. That's every couple, though."
He frowns.
"Oh, you mean do I talk to him about these things? Sometimes ... I don't really talk to anyone about these things. I usually have entire conversations with myself sometimes. They're not productive, but I don't like to drop my problems on other people, even JJ or my family. I deal with these things on my own. I always have ... it's hard to explain to other people what happens when I go through these little cycles."
Someone must understand, though. Other people have these problems, too.
"Maybe."
He gets up and we start walking back towards the apartment. He was busy working on a script for a short film he is working on and didn't want to go too far away; thus our short stroll by the water's edge.
"Maybe other people have these problems. Maybe other people will understand. Sometimes, I think it's worth telling them - it will help them deal with me in these situations. Other times, it seems trivial, not worth bothering them. I love JJ, and it's important that I try to be honest with him and that we help each other when we have problems. But this is different. This is a personal demon that haunts me always ... this is my dragon. I fight this myself. When I get angry, I later feel guilty and fear rejection by other people. This leads to depression and self-loathing. But I always break free ... it's like walking the line between the Light Side and the Dark Side. Knowing those places helps me. For what it's worth, I understand people really well, I think. And knowing the Dark Side of myself lets me write characters with depth - at least I hope it does. Who knows? Maybe I write stupid, superficial characters and I just think they have depth because they're like me."
He laughs and we both watch the Light Rail pass by.
"I don't know. Once I leave those dark places, I feel compelled to accomplish things. I feel motivated. The other extreme in the cycle is a desire to do things, to do important things.
Like making your films?
"Exactly! I leave these cycles with an awareness that if I don't do something, then I really am wasting my time. When I trust myself, I make good choices - I make the right decisions. I've been blessed with a support group of people who encourage me, despite the odds that surround my picks. I have a family that would do anything to help me and a boyfriend who loves me and supports me - what else do I need?"
I sense he is anxious to get back to his apartment and start writing.
You need to get back to work, don't you?
He laughs.
"Yes, I would like to go back up and write some more now."
What will you do when you're done writing?
"Honestly, I don't know ... but I'll figure it out. I always do. I'll get where I need to go."
As I watch him head into the building, I can see from his stride and the intense look in his eyes ... the way he stalks back to his den, just like a forest predator bringing home its prize ... he'll get where he needs to go. Of that, I am certain.
posted by Dave at 1:36:00 AM
4 Comments:
Very impressive.
It's a dark place you go isn't it. I know that because I go there too... you have my support as always...-Dan
I'll be right here.
not many people are able to recognize these things within themselves. For many people that takes years. if you ever need someone objective to talk to...I'm there
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