There’s nothing better than having a view from the top floor of your apartment. Especially when you live in a silent place and the new season is beginning to take form. In times like these, I find the art of relaxing to be vital. And what better way to relax than sitting at your desk, checking out the tips of the trees with your own Panasonic Radio from Grandpa.
My Grandpa is a man of many tales who bears many gifts. And there is no gift that competes with the Panasonic Radio he left me with the last time I’d seen him. We were sharing our favorite meal together; A deep dish Jet’s pizza with extra cheese—just how he likes it. And unfortunately for the both of us, the power was out so there was nothing left to do but converse and listen to the Panasonic Radio. We listened to the radio without any clue as to what would come next. That’s the way we liked it. There’s nothing more relaxing than sweet jazz playing in the background, as Grandpa shares his stories again about traveling with Grandma all over Berlin Germany together. He never fails to share, “the KGB agents on the train never said a word or gave a smile, but I knew they thought your Grandma was beautiful because I always caught them staring.” I always chuckle at this one line, not only because of how true it is, but because of how confident he is when saying it. Grandpa is a man of truth and he never lies.
On my way out of the door, the power magically turned back on. “Oh well, would you look at that Brandon” he says. I couldn’t help but smile at him. “That’s okay Grandpa, I’m sure the Tigers game is still on and you’ll have something to watch besides listening to the game on the radio” I said back. “Well, I don’t need it anymore, why don’t you take it back to school with you.” As much as I love all the gifts my Grandpa has given to me, how could I take his precious Panasonic Radio away from him? “That’s alright, Grandpa. Surely you’ll need it another time.” I replied. But he insisted that I take it with me and it was important to him. So, there I was, standing in the doorway and just one more step closer out of the door, and now equipped with a Panasonic Radio.
On my way back to school, there was no battery left to be spared on my speaker for the car ride home. I turned on the radio and tuned it to my favorite classic rock channel. This was going to be a good ride and I knew it. The Panasonic Radio sat there in my passenger seat silent and mute but with good memory of time well spent with Grandpa.
And so on a cool day in the evening, you can look out your window and see the Panasonic Radio on your window seal… you can tune the radio to your favorite channel, relax, and lay back. Let’s enjoy the sound of music for the old timers sake.
Before we dive into the darkest depths of my manic insanity and what I would consider to be worse than Hunter’s lust for notes on page, this is a chime for the cure to my sabbatical of writers block, and thank god we’ve broken through to the other side Bubba. We’ve made it, yes, we made it.
“Writers Block”
To: Re December 23, 2020 Royal Oak (edited)
I caught the worst disease known to mankind—in the arts of writing. It’s terrible and it’s unfortunate to occur at a time like this when I’m free to do whatever I wish with all of this leisure time. The only way to cure writers block is to constantly write until it suddenly disappears. So I’m hoping, while writing this mini letter to myself, I will rediscover my voice and return to my website with published work on a timely basis. After all, I’m nothing more than an employed writer. I also have yet to discover what I want to do with my life… That is, I’ve given up for the time being on stocks and politics. They are both a parasite to the mind that’s infected me worse than a mosquito with killer-Zika virus. I couldn’t take it anymore Bubba, the bullshit price manipulation in the markets, and the (then) president of the United States playing political games before his lame duck term in office is over with. Ye Gods, all of it, it’s the end of the bullshit we’ve all endured for the past four years of our lives. We are, after all, the Apple of Eden of 21st century politics and we can thank socialist scum and radical left-wing suburban junkies and the vile Proud Boys for this. Our voices may compel nothing more than a 5oz block of Wisconsin cheddar cheese, but once those frugal and naive boomers pass their torches onto us, we take charge.
I apologize for getting all political on you, it’s a disease that I just cannot seem to shake—and maybe even worse than Bill Clintons sex addiction—or Dick Nixons knack for getting himself into a heap of shit. But it’s all about having fun, and who cares, we are young and reckless and the First Amendment protects me from the bureaucratic scum of the earth. And though I’ve tried every remedy known to man… like washing my mouth after slandering a primary political socialite until the tastebuds are inexistent; Nothing compares to a bottle of fine Wild Turkey whiskey with friends instead—yet, I’m still capable of saying something outlandish. The face begins to turn bright red and the ears burn in pure embarrassment—and although you’re fraught in your own dealings, it’s a mistake that you won’t make again. Mark my words Bubba, keep your mouth shut and don’t commit any acts of libel on the big man in his White Cave. The last resort to overcoming this treacherous disease is to eliminate yourself from the badgering problem altogether… which is nearly impossible, since the ruckus created by the black coats is engraved in our brains and the very devices we’re staring into at this exact moment have consumed us. We no longer Consume them. The fight is over—but the battle is not yet finished.
The Stock Market is just as bad. Public figures are nothing more than greasy snake-oil salesmen, touting the latest Tesla share price value, and hoping some hyped up zit-faced geek spends his entire stimulus on shares instead of a new gaming console—designed to fry the brain into loneliness—and soon to be left dead with dried stains of semen on his trousers. Hell, by the sound of this, we’re fucked! God almighty, spare us for our fortunes of grief—which are nothing more than self-loathing hopeless romantics in dire need of prudence! Say nothing more kid, just spend your days filled with love, laughter, kindness, candor… and plenty of ecstasy. Remove yourself from this behemoth enemy of mankind, sell it all, and Run Like Hell.
BMS.
“Plato’s Symposium”
Socrates is fascinated with Diotima’s ability to describe Love and Beauty for what it truly is. That it is crucial you “… don’t force whatever is not beautiful to be ugly, or whatever is not good to be bad. It’s the same with Love; when you agree he is neither good nor beautiful, you need not think he is ugly and bad; he could be something in between.” The notion that there is something in between is more robust than the being itself, for it’s the journey of discovering oneself and thy other self for the sake of each being. The claim that Love needs good and beautiful things, and that’s why he truly deserves them–because he needs them respectively arouses the mystery encompassing what love is, that finding oneself & gratification should come forth in the process of falling in love.
Not necessarily do we always falter in our ambitions to reach unfathomable heights greater than ourselves, but we become graceful in the journey when finding the in-between, the good & the bad, especially in the process of loving. Though gruesome and meticulous at times, we develop a good and beautiful character. Love, which is neither God nor Immortal, justifiably understands its own notion of the challenges brought upon its presence in our world.
A Human naturally finds love in their life when they least expect it. And for the sake of belonging to oneself and the other, they must discover who they are within themselves. That is why Love, who believes in good and beautiful things, provides us all with good and beautiful (and if the experiencer never truly believes in the good & beautiful in its presence, then it’s not truly love at all). The experiencer cannot force themselves to choose whether the love they feel is beautiful or ugly. Beautiful and ugly are unwittingly platonic & the in-between is what truly resides in the relationship.
However, finding oneself & that gratification will unfold within the journey, only because the journey is unaccomplished until those two are opened within the in-between. Because it is not the lover who seeks the half or the whole, unless it turns out to be good as well: but it’s up to the lover to deem himself/herself worthy enough to love in the first place. And, was it not Plato who “seemed to have made the grotesque mistake of separating Being from becoming?” According to the wicked Alduous Huxley. The process of discovering to love oneself and another is brought forth from the loved one–then a pedestal of self-righteousness & joy will lift the lover and the loved in a state of becoming.
Meditations of 20: Now onto 21
To: Re March 7 2021 East Lansing, MI
Living my life up to 20 was amazing… you could say. However gruesome the hardships were then, I won’t take for granted the lessons I’ve learned over the years, slowly growing into adulthood. These lessons (meditations) helped me get there, by building relationships and living an optimistic life, and trying my best to avoid the negative attitude.
1.) “You can’t always get what you want, but if you try sometimes you can get what you need.” Re: I’ve experienced the Rolling Stones hit in almost all endeavors In My Life. I recommend trying your best anyways, because in the end, you will get what you need.
2.) I don’t believe in not believing. Especially giving up on a passion. I don’t give up anymore and I don’t give up on believing either… I learned how to fight the hard way.
3.) But you have to be patient in your bouts… and vigilant. Like the famous Sun Tzu said, “wars are won before they are fought.” And be humble too. There is no dubious need to ravage and frolic. That is weak humility. Humility comes from Humbleness and Honesty. Remind yourself that I have Humility, that I’m honest, and I will be Humble.
4.) For what had happened, happened because nature, that’s why. You can never win against nature, Period. I’ve been hit hard many times, too many times, but I wouldn’t be the person I was meant to be without getting through them. Hard times are for hard work. That’s where you are born; As champions are born through adversity.
5.) Brush your teeth, floss, and rinse with mouthwash. Turn on the faucet again, wipe your face and scrub. Your health is important so take care of it. Good wealth comes from good health.
6.) Listen to what you want, dance however you want, and do what you want. This is your life, not theirs. Do what you want to do because you have the privilege.
7.) Never doubt the seasons. Play along with them and take it day by day. Tomorrow a Robin will build his new nest.
8.) Don’t condemn someone else’s Poetry. It’s theirs, not yours. Focus on your own.
9.) Listen to what others have to say. There is more wisdom to be found in listening to learn.
10.) Money doesn’t grow on trees. My money grows as I grow.
11.) Choose to do the right thing, and the right things will happen… Choose to do the wrong thing, and the wrong things will happen… “Treat every decision you make in life as a new Maxim” — Immanuel Kant.
12.) It’s not about being smart, having common sense, or having an IQ over 160… Practice what’s right because you believe it’s right. You will know it’s right or if it’s wrong as you grow.
13.) The truth is honest and wrong. *The truth is honest and raw
14.) Smile. It’s that simple. 🙂
15.) Love, that is all you can do. Love the best you can.
16.) Hissy fits and a bad temperament will get you no where… except The Long Way Home.
17.) Surround yourself with those who inspire you to be you.
18.) You treat people as you treat books. Books are opened and read for only a few pages, or chapters, and maybe entirely… it all depends on how you read. If you give attention to your books you will give the same attention to others.
19.) If you feel like crying, let the tears flow. I don’t hold grudges and I don’t hold back tears.
20.) I’ve been broke many times. I’ve also felt empty and defeated. When I’m in that moment of defeat, I clap my hands and remind myself that today is going to be great. I look over at Lola or the plant next to my window, I smile, and am reminded of the love in my life. Love is all that is important in this life, like it or not. We are defeated individuals if our capabilities to love one another suddenly fare inert. I will get back up, as I always have, and seize the day.
21.) “Great men follow the greatness within them. Little men follow the little parts of themselves.”
“It’s a Purple Towel”
May 5 2021
I’ve been having obscure dreams lately. None so vile–but energizing, some would say divine. I’m an Existential Lizard King in these dreams. I climb a rope of Bunring Twine, and below watching are the dubious Swine. Ye Gods. All of it, merely magic word play.
I’m sitting at a circle table, on a tall chair. All around me. . .these faces who wreak no emotion. They exist to. I’m sitting across from a pastime, they are wild & trouble. “What is your name? What is your major? What do you want to do?” They ask me.
I pondered these Questions, what was their reason for sudden inquiry? Why are they asking me and nobody else? I fail to respond lightly. I open up brightly, and sway, then say “Brandon Matthew Suffel, Political Science. I like Philosophical things.”
***
They say ‘No.’ Walking away, silent, without looking back. Why do they Go? Why do they say No?
***
I’m back to a table. A new table. I visualize myself sitting at the table at this specific Restaurant on this very spot on this very Earth. Although I’m here, I’m not alone, but next to me they sit. They begin to lay their head & body on mine. Suddenly, I begin to feel warm, the same warmth of a goodnights sleep. That’s where I truly am.
They don’t talk–but in the distance, the shapeless & blurred faces echo. Soon, they woke, but still, they’ve not spoke. I tried to speak, yet my voice would not squeak, and I would blabber mute manic jargon not even a newborn whale would bargain. . .
***
We are running on a court, to a man who is short, in red shorts, who devotes his entire existence to sports. They speak to him. I’m laughing sullenly, on a whim. Why him? Why not me?
***
They run into the house next door. The light turns on upstairs, I began to head there. All around me, little hare, running happily, jumping, squeaking in a fortuitous flare. I feel their wicked agenda overwhelming my existence in this moment with them. Yet, I still follow them. Yes, I must run.
***
I creep in through the bottom door. So weary, but how close? I see a new light ahead of me. There is a door blocking the way. There must be another way! The door is small, simple, and easy to slide through–no ‘hey’ necessary. I went to open it, suddenly I burned my fingertips to a Thanksgiving Turkey Buttered crisp. I persevered and pulled the door:
It’s a purple towel.
“The Curveball”
May 3 2021
Life has thrown many curveballs at me. Especially at my first baseball practice. It was fifth grade and my first season back on the diamond after a sabbatical because of my then devotion to the endless kicking of soccer. I walked onto the Field of Dreams in goofy shape and with a happy mindset. After all, I haven’t played ball in a few years and I love the game just from playing pick-up in the summers with friends & foes.
My coach and the rest of the team were waiting on the diamond for me to show up. I ran up to the crowd as the short & skinny blonde haired & blue eyed boy. My coach, who stood three feet taller than me, looked down and asked, “what position do you play kid?”
I never thought about that before, or at least until this very moment. I knew that I had to tell him something or else I’d be stuck riding the bench all year. Those were my fears then–playing a sport and not being able to contend in the game.
I looked up at my coach without saying a word and faced a sudden epiphany: All I ever wanted to be was a pitcher in baseball. The one who saw the entire game through his eyes, he sees through a lens For Love of The Game. I awoke from my day dream and said to coach, “pitcher.” Suddenly, my coach and the rest of the team bawled in laughter. I looked around and couldn’t believe what I was witnessing. I stood there in silence until my coach gathered himself and calmed down the rest of the team.
“Alright, alright” he started with, “let’s see you stand up to the plate over there and put one over it” pointing to the home plate, which was still covered in dirt and barely visible from any pitchers eyes. No catcher with gear walked over to the plate to give me a strike zone or at least an idea of where to aim. I knew that I all I had to do was put the ball over the plate.
I grabbed the ball from my glove and held it in my right hand tightly. At the time, I didn’t know how imperative the seams on the ball were, so I used my entire fist to grip the ball. I walked on over to the plate and put both of my feet on the strip of white rubber. I was anxious for the first time, a feeling I’d never experienced or at least knew existed. Then the doubts flooded my innocent adolescent mind, I’ve never tried this before. Am I really a pitcher? Shouldn’t I be playing soccer with my friends? Then and there my entire ego met its demise. I was in an environment surrounded by people who doubted me and wanted to watch me fail and I knew it.
I looked forward and down to the home plate which I could still barely see from all the dirt. I looked up to the fence and picked a spot to aim for and remembered all of the times I’d thrown the tennis ball on my driveway. I began my attempt at what I thought was pitching. I pulled my arm back as far as I could, using my entire body, and threw my arm and the rest of my body with the ball without a worry about speed or aim.
I couldn’t see where the ball ended up. I was looking away from throwing the ball so hard. I looked over to the home plate and saw the ball 5 feet away to the right. I knew it then and there I’d just blown my opportunity of ever becoming a pitcher.
The team behind me all dispersed and went back to playing catch. The pitchers went back to their corners with their designated catcher and warmed-up. Coach was still waiting on the diamond, he was looking at me waiting for something to say until I blurted out “so coach, where do you need me?” I waited for his response, when I suddenly noticed an odious smile on his face–he broke the smile and yelled back “THE OUTFIELD.”
Two Sides To The Same Coin
For the greater good, evil must exist because it sells just as much, if not better, than good. Good sells because it’s profitable–profitable from the lessons we learn from committing evil acts. After all, the existential greater good triumphs majority of the time. However, if evil triumphs and tragedy is the ending, it’s still a conclusion. Just as both good and evil are really two sides to the same coin, as heads are to tails–and why there’s always an inevitable outcome between the two.
Immanuel Kant of the enlightenment period introduced a murder complex that supports the claim that both evil & good must coexist based on unknown outcomes. We are constantly confronted with endless decisions we may be in control of; however, we are not entirely sure of the result. The murder complex is all a choice, one that challenges a soul’s maxim, and it’s the choice to tell the murderer where their victim is hiding or otherwise lie to the murderer. The consensus of good action in this complex is to lie. On the other hand, for evil to exist, one must tell the murderer the whereabouts of the murderer’s victim. Henceforth, beneath this complex lies the coin. The same coin with two different sides, and though you have no other choice but to flip, you have no perfect vision of the outcome or reaction.
The Second World War lasted seven years. Acts of atrocity and genocide were nothing but the vilest of humankind. Between both sides of the war (the allies & axis powers), millions perished. Although the outcome was tragic, victory and loss from either side sought merciful reactions as acts of heroism or spineless crimes of humanity poisoned our world. Suddenly, weapons of mass destruction became paramount in the war. As a result, the United States had no other choice but to initiate the use of atomic weaponry against the Japanese Empire. In this case, the United States was seen as the hero and praised as the greater good for “winning” the war thus, causing the Japanese Empire to surrender. Although today, weapons of mass destruction torment society as humankind-ending evil tools. As a matter of fact, let’s not neglect that the United States was installing internment camps for Japanese people living in the United States–although not as extreme as the Nazis and Japanese internment and concentration camp practices. By and large, between the allies and the axis powers, both committed acts of evil on their behalf. However, the Allies came out of the war as courageous victors. For the most part, this is why World War two is the purview for deciding what’s good and what’s evil. Hence why humankind’s society’s existential practices are what they are–and why they define the norms we practice between good and evil and how they vary greatly. Given these points, evil must exist for the greater good’s existence because they are both two different sides to the same coin with endless possibilities of outcomes & reactions.
Writing Again
Ye Gods, it’s time to write and it feels like a burden. I haven’t done this in so long, long as in my own hiatus of four months since my most recent tragedy. There is no context necessary yet for my tragedy, and if you know me, I’d assume you’d know what it entails–but for those of you who have no clue, I wouldn’t worry about it. The most frustrating part about this task is that my “o” key is not working too well and I’m using excessive force to engage the key. I like being technical with my words and I’m neither drunk or high this time. I was in a trance of a wicked high for the longest time. The pot addiction started again around March, and slowly crept into a chronic addiction in April. What later ensued was a complete and tragic downfall that led me into the books of American Cops worst enemies on the road. My fuel and fire suddenly became my most heinous enemy, leaving my poor mind lazy and weak, and I couldn’t think let alone cope in a positive manner. My years as a hippie are now outlived. How unfortunate is this for us Bubba? Why couldn’t we all stay cool, for just a little longer? Why did I have to give you up, why did I have to give us up, and why did Charlie Watts have to leave this world before I could see all of the Stones live in concert stoned?
This website is a crucial prism in my organizational structure to my brain and I’m slowly letting go of this too.
Where is my focus? I miss talking about the stock market everyday and reading books and waking up at four AM with a new idea for my website. And now, I’m writing for a new company. Is this my path and should I follow it? Sure. Focus on the now and don’t look back–that’s all I can say for now. And as the same song continues to play over and over again on my phone, “Leaving on a Jet Plane,” I’m still left here standing.
Who is going to fix this, besides me? My drive feels so weak and my intellectuality is slowly dripping away from my spine after countless nights of abuse with psychedelics. I’ve had much fun, and I’ve done almost all, but I’m still empty and there is a deep desire within that craves more than a street heroine fiend.
I’m starting to feel comfortable again and I like it. And once we get comfortable letting the world know of our words and our story, this thing will work; mark my words Bubba and you know you have it too.
Writing is fun and I like it. How contradictory of you young man. So wild and free, a divine being greater than the matter he steps foot on. This earth is great and the sun is welcoming these days and the rain is mostly peaceful. I enjoy the sound of thunder and a bolt of lightning in the sky will sway your head while your car is driving on its own road. The Wolf is reckless and loud and I like it. He rides in a mean temper and has no sympathy for the devil anymore. We’re all here for one reason and one reason only, to live on the edge and in a speedy fashion. What’s better than that old friend? Who are you and why are you here? What do you want and why do you wish to stay, regardless of your unwelcomeness? It’s okay, I guess, surely you have something to offer and it isn’t drink or a fools drug. Maybe Kodachrome… the old song of mans life with a Kodak camera on the ride to adulthood. There’s nothing better and there’s nothing worse, just the in-between. We are there and we can’t complain or be ostentatious.
Writing is more than fun and I like it more than the last time I’d said it. Insanity now, serenity later when the greens of summer come again. We had a good summer and we lived it well. There’s nothing better than a warm summer filled with joy and fortuitous flare in the air. Wow that rhymed and was awfully queer.
Remember that Bubba, when life seems to kick you down and the wind currents are blowing against you—get back up. Wipe off the dirt and the mud and the tears. It’s okay to grieve and cry, there’s less stress in your eyes and people will see the real you. It was never your fault to begin with and what you are struggling with will find ends meet soon.
I’ve seen Breaking Away so many times now I’ve memorized almost every line in the movie. I can’t begin to describe how entertaining Cyril’s wit is to ease tensions between the group of lost boys. After the third time of watching the movie, I began to realize how the “cutter” group resonated with my friend group. Almost all of us were lost within ourselves at a point-in-time in our lives, not knowing whether college was realistic. Or knowing if starting a job back home and cutting school altogether was the better choice. Many years passed since our adolescence when these decisions weighed on us. In the end, we all figured out our path & continued to reach new fathomable experiences in which changed us for the better, as if every piece of life, no matter the circumstance, is efficient for the puzzle to fit all together.
It wasn’t until my friend Ollie Lecter, the music maker, asked me, “so why are they called the ‘cutters’?” At first, the easy answer to his question was: “because they cut school and did their own thing.” However, I pondered his question with due diligence. So why are they called the cutters? After significant thought, I realized their name derives from their parents. Dave (the bike racer) and Cyril (the witty, easy goer) and Mike (the most lost with reality), and Moocher (the boy with no parents) all have fathers who cut the limestone. The same limestone derived from the quarry the gang of boys spent most of their time breaking away from reality & the real world. And that same limestone was used for the buildings at the University of Indiana.
The students at the University of Indiana (whom we can acclaim as the antagonists) give the ‘cutters’ their name. What the students don’t realize: if the cutters never existed, neither would their education. The University’s built on the backbone of those who abandoned their aspirations for further schooling. The ‘cutters’ chose to work right away to support their fulfilling lifestyle. Immediately, a new window of theory about this movie slid open & led me to ask, why are the boys so lost at a grasp from further expansion?
Dave comes from a single family with no siblings. Neither of Dave’s parents attended college. His father has worked his entire life, and his mother is a stay-at-home. Dave’s mom seems to be the most civil character in the movie, having no bias towards anyone. Instead, shifting her energy in consistent empathy with her husband’s and son’s hardships. Dave’s father is hard on his son since he’s worked his entire life and had no college education. Dave’s father’s aspirations for his son stem from an awakening on his goals in life, subconsciously wondering where his boy wants to go? He knows that Dave can’t ride his bike forever and continuously bring home trophies; age will soon catch up and teach him a lesson.
Dave, on the other hand, has one goal in mind throughout the entirety of the movie. Dave wants to race with the Italians–that’s all he’s thought about since he first stepped on the peddles. There’s also another misconception about David, his desire to love others. Dave faces constant berating back home from his father. I figure there’s a void he’s trying to fill within the realm of love, even when he meets the sorority girl & takes her out. However, Dave’s never believed in himself, frankly. Instead, playing another role the entire time as someone else (the Italian). I wonder if that’s his defense mechanism, in hopes those who he has strong feelings for never figure out who he is: merely a cutter.
Cyril is similar to David; however, his relationship with his father seems to be more civilized. When David asks about what Cyril wants to do & if the college entrance exam is realistic, Cyril explains that his father (who’s more understanding of his failures) accepts him regardless, like when he lost his basketball scholarship, which led him to give up on school altogether. And the idea of taking a college exam to Cyril was not entirely about passing. Cyril merely wanted to fail to show his father that at least he tried, full-well knowing his pop wouldn’t be disappointed, and if anything, laughs it off altogether. Cyrils attitude derives from his relationship with his father and never having a sense of support when it comes to ‘failing’ something. Sure, we all fail once in a while. Failing is an imperative component of life. But instead of building up the determination to do better the next time, Cyril’s witty humor & laid back attitude set him back even further. Although he’s unsettled about the developments in the Middle-East, which was a world power issue in the 70s, he copes with humor rather than addressing what’s in front of him for what it is–and this goes with everything he faces. Cyril is the least most athletic in the group too. I learned this at the end of the movie at the final bike race. Inevitably answering the main reason why he didn’t get that basketball scholarship in the first place: he was too unathletic, and I assume his father must’ve forced him to play the sport in fear his boy wasn’t smart enough to get by with just good grades.
Moocher seems to be the least lost character within the film. He is the shortest guy in the group with the biggest heart. Moocher never attempted to go to college. Instead, he follows his friends around while sheltering away his private life from the group. Nancy, his soon to be wife, is what’s keeping him away from the group. Because that’s a paramount commitment & he fears the gang will either abandon him for growing up or disparage him for such a substantial life-changing choice. Moocher even goes out of his way to look for work, and this wasn’t to impress his new wife but to show by example to the gang, it’s time they each go their way and grow up. Unfortunately, his tenure at the car wash doesn’t last more than one minute. After being called by his nickname: “shorty,” he smashed the time clock and waltzes away in grandeur. Throughout the movie, Moocher displays his most substantial reactions when addressed by his peers or the college students by “shorty.” Moocher’s insecurity stems from his image. His insecurities also derive from his lack of parental guidance. His parents never introduce themselves & we never know why his mom is missing in the first place. His father is currently living in Chicago, searching for work in a struggling economy & selling their house in Indiana (where Moocher lives all by himself). Moocher is neglected and only has his friends and now Nancy. With Nancy, maybe he’s filled that void of abandonment and can finally walk down his path confidently.
Mike is the most lost out of the boys. He was once the high school quarterback & admired by everyone at school. When Mike left behind the grades and aspirations to go to school, it all went away from him–and without them, Mike begins to get lost within himself. Unfortunately, he starts to address his friends as losers, which I’d assume is because of his current state of insecurity. Mike loved his pedestal & the popularity that came, but now that it’s gone, Mike becomes an entirely different person. For starters, he hates home. Mike metaphorically sends a signal to the boys by changing his voice to someone from the south, playing a different character. Mike wants to escape from a reality he’s stuck-in, and move to the middle of nowhere so no one can bother him. In hopes, leaving him abandoned, angry and distressed. Mike’s brother still lives in town and watches over the boys as a Police officer. Mike never mentions his parents. And having a much older brother, who has the power to take away his only form of transportation. This is where we see the real Mike–with no parents and a brother who’s raised him his entire life. As athletic as Mike is, he’s only good in one arena, being the quarterback. And when he isn’t in his realm, he isn’t himself. The college student, who soon discovered their quarry, aggravates Mike and accepts Mike’s challenge to a swimming race. Unfortunately, Mike loses the race in his realm but not in his arena. After losing the race, Mike suffers a deep cut to the head. However, after being impaired, he continues on swimming & not giving up. The college student showed an expression of fear & astonishment, full-well knowing Mike has more than just anger within him, it’s the heart and determination to get what he wants, and that indubitably scares him.
All the boys are different; there’s no doubt about that. But what’s essential to know is that they are just like everyone else, if not better. Dave would soon go to college and meet a French exchange student. But we don’t know what happens to the rest of the characters after the race. I’d assume Cyril got a minimum wage job and continues to live at home. Moocher moves to Chicago with Nancy to live with his father and starts a family of his own. And Mike could’ve moved to the Dakotas to look for work or still lives in Bloomington with his brother. These boys are just figments of our imagination; after all, this is only a movie. But the message that lies within the film is that no one truly knows what they want to do with themselves. Life is a journey just like riding a bike along the road, or filling failure with humor, or growing strong to make up for your size, or breaking away from it all.
