I'm just a little person.

And the full lyrics for those hunting for them:

I'm just a little person,
One person in a sea
Of many little people
Who are not aware of me.

I do my little job
And live my little life,
Eat my little meals,
Miss my little lid and wife

And somewhere, maybe someday,
Maybe somewhere far away,
I'll find a second little person
who will look at me and say,

"I know you
You're the one I've waited for.
Let's have some fun."

Life is precious every minute,
and more precious with you in it,
so let's have some fun

We'll take a road trip way out west. You're the one I like the best.
I'm glad I've found you,
Like being around you
You're the one I like the best.

Somewhere, maybe someday,
Maybe somewhere far away,
I'll meet a second little person
And we'll go out and play.

-- Little Person, "Synecdoche, New York"

I'm at one of my lowest points in the last couple of months. Much of it, though not all of it, has been brought on by Synecdoche, New York, which created in me an overwhelming sense of malaise and alienation. It's almost like I saw the exact movie at the exact wrong moment to create the exact maximum impact on my psyche.

There are many reasons, I suppose. Work is a big one. The closure of my vertical has left me adrift in our department, waiting to find out what the Next Big. Thing is. In the meantime I'm doing mundane, tedious work that I graduated from nearly two years ago. I'm suddenly not important, central, creative or, frankly, very useful. It's a miserable feeling.

Second, the movie brought on a new round of discombobulation over my impending divorce. The protagonist (Philip Seymour Hoffman) of the movie never really recovers from the failure of his first marriage, which is dramatized in a way that he never fully knows what went wrong. That hit me so hard, and I could relate to it immensely, but then Hoffman spends much of the rest of the movie trying to find a way to connect with the child who was taken from him, poisoned against him in disgusting, horrible ways. It's a dark, horrific vision of parental alienation... Alec Baldwin shouldn't see this flick. He may end up making more angry phone calls...

I'm just a little person

One person in a sea

Of many little people

Who are not aware of me

I do my little job

And live my little life

Eat my little meals

Miss my little kid and wife

These are the lyrics to the heartbreaking closing credits song of Synecdoche, New York. These lines caused tears to pour down my face as the credits rolled. Everything about my failed marriage pouring out of me, channeled through those simple, simple lines. Which is followed by...

And somewhere maybe someday

Maybe somewhere far away

I'll find a second little person

Who will look at me and say...

I know you

You're the one I've waited for

Let's have some fun

And there's the third reason... my new friend is disappearing from me.

I don't know if it has anything to do with me. I can tell that she's reaching out to experience life in many forms. Sometimes includes me, but it seems that now it doesn't more often than not. Our last date was fantastic, with promises of more that week. She opened up in a lot of meaningful ways. We appear to be on the same wavelength. Then things started stalling out, and it suddenly feels like it turning into an one-way street, and I'm tired of being the chump going the wrong way.

And I absolutely know that I shouldn't be worked up about her at all, but yes, we're all reaching out for that bullshit that makes us forget just how alone and scared we all are, all fearful that it doesn't mean anything, that we can't get anything out of this world. Which is, after all, what Synecdoche, New York is about in many respects. It's a pretty nihilist film, though in a beautiful, tender-hearted way rather than caustic and bitter.

So it's been a perfect emotional storm this week. I'm rarely a depressive, morbid, sad person. But I feel like I've been one big ball of sadness since Sunday night when I watched that movie. I don't have any direction, I don't feel any hope...

Yes. I'm just a little person. One person in a sea of many people, who are not aware of me.

Part two of this story came almost three years later. Feel free to read it.

The Most Depressing Place in the World

Von's Grocery Store, Centinela Blvd. Los Angeles. Tuesday, 6:40 pm. 

Maybe it's the fact that they are renovating. The floors are two different colors, the salad bar empty, the seafood counter vacant. Much of this clearly comes from the fact that they didn't have a salad bar previously, and frankly, I don't think it's a place you ever wanted to get seafood from in the first place. It's long been a lower-middle class area of town (I spent a charming year living just down the block), but I suppose every grocery chain feels inordinate pressure to compete with the Whole Foods of the world.

Stopping in for toothpaste and wine. Maybe an electric toothbrush for Zach... Hmm, does he want Wall-E or Spongebob? God, I hate Spongebob...

Realize I'm kind of hungry. Leftover pasta in the fridge at home doesn't sound very appealing. Cooking an actual meal even less so, given my work ambitions for the night, not to mention my general lack of creativity when the fridge door is open... Maybe just grab something to go. But the Vons isn't exactly a "grab and go" kind of grocery store, especially at a time when the floors are comprised of two different colors. 

Stand in the soup aisle, ponder the healthy brands. Nearly shoulder to shoulder with two sixty year old men who just have that appearance of being... my god... single. And old. Old and single.

Flashback to all those times I've stood in the checkout line, that matronly woman behind me, buying her Dinners-For-One. A single cup of yogurt. A pre-packaged salad. Probably a bottle of Kahlua. And I think to myself... so sad. So sad not to have anyone. So sad to be alone, all day and every night. God, what a lucky guy I am... what a lucky, lucky guy... 

Back in the soup aisle, Old & Single snorts a loogey into the back of his throat. Jesus, no wonder he's single. What's with the 5 pounds of broccoli? Well, at least it's healthy. More than I can say for myself tonight... or many nights as of late. My god, there are a lot of soups. Progresso, Campbells, Chunky, Healthy Classics... There are just too many, and nothing, all at the same time. I really can't handle this.

Wander to the wine section. Nearly done being remodeled, but I kind of miss the tall shelves. Now they end at eye-level, and the value options all seem to be missing. Don't tell me this Von's on Centinela and Washington dreams of being upscale. Hey, Mr. Vons Manager - have you seen your clientele lately? Mr. Broccoli Soup back on Aisle 9? Aint' gonna happen. 

But here I am. With my toothpaste, wine, Wall-E toothbrush, and some bananas and eggs. Not old, but single. Where did I find that high horse of mine? Shuffle off to the checkout counter. Getting really hungry now. 

But I can't bear the thought of a buying a Dinner-For-One. I don't think I've ever done that in my life, and I can't imagine starting now. This has been depressing enough.

For me, at this moment, Von's on Centinela, in Los Angeles, at 6:40 on a Tuesday, is the most depressing place in the world.

Winner in 3

Finding yourself single again is supposed to be about discovering new things to enjoy, or reconnecting with old things. I've caught up with old friends, including my college girlfriend, who is a wonderful woman going through some shit of her own that she is, frankly, too good a person in my opinion to have to endure. I tracked down one of my first co-workers in LA, who I haven't seen in 8 years, who is still in the Hollywood rat race and loving it, though... she seemed quietly sad too. 

But one of the things that I've really enjoyed the last few months is playing tennis. I play with my friend Stuart, and we're both guys who hadn't picked up a racket in 10-15 years (I think I last played in high school). We're both naturally athletic, but obviously not great tennis talents yet. We play every week, almost without fail, and we're pretty evenly matched, and getting better each week. The matches are pretty competitive - we both like to win, and we both like to push ourselves. Since I haven't had many physical outlets the last few years chasing around a little kid (I haven't made the time, and am fortunate not to get fat naturally...), this has been great. 

Stuart led the series 6-4 up until a couple weeks ago, and we had to call a tough match because of darkness. So that didn't hit either win column. I've had a bear of two weeks of work, doing nothing other than working or caring for Zach since... god, it feels like forever. Or at least since the camping trip. So I really, really needed to work out some aggression tonight. Took the first set, 6-4, lost the second 6-3 and then jumped out to a 5-2 lead in the third before collapsing and letting him tie it up at 5-5. After finally stopping driving the ball long, and held on for the win, 7-5. Felt pretty good. A minor Mozart moment. 

Though Stuart still has me, 6-5.