It seems a tragedy that specific works of art should become so closely linked with negative memories. I can’t love that one band with the same unadulterated enthusiasm, because I went to their concert with that one person once and another time we listened to them in the car on the way home, and that person treated me poorly. That one movie I could gush about for hours will just always bring up my first year of teaching, which was very stressful, but it also reminds me of being twenty-two, which is depressing, because how was that so long ago?
Why can’t our brains just let us enjoy this stuff? And why does it matter. It shouldn’t have to matter.
I will always love Mulholland Drive, however, because all the cool people in my life love David Lynch and I don’t know anyone who’s ever been an asshole who has liked this movie. Hopefully it can continue to be associated with cool people in my life, and I won’t have to abandon this one too.
