Last Moments: Shark Victim

Then I couldn’t feel it’s teeth anymore. I could still see —oh, I could see everything. But at that late stage, why would I look? What must have only been seconds, or even a single, solitary second, seemed to go on forever. Not the forever that a convict feels awaiting sentencing or dog pining for its master's return. Forever in that I was not constricted by time, in that I felt no compulsion to rush. Perhaps a first in my life. So I looked away. I watched the sun setting over the ocean. I had seen a thousand sunsets and none had made near such an impression. The sun was perfect circle of orange gold. And though I could feel nothing, I looked at it and knew warmth. It lit the waters with rose and violet and deep purples that I had forever attributed to sunlight passing through pollution. God, talk about cynical. And the water! It stood so calm for what I would have expected. One assumes there would be a great swirling of the waters and a massive, terrible wake foreboding your doom. But no, aside from my own terrified splashing, there had been nothing else to disturb the scene. And now, with that at an end, a peaceful equilibrium had been restored. I would meet my end without fanfare, but it gave me a new perspective. The ocean no longer reacted to my presence. It no longer resisted me. I was welcomed in a way that no man alive has ever been. I looked back at the entirety of my life —I had the time, you understand, and I did so with a new clarity. I remembered moments I had long since thought forgotten and regrets that memory would never allow me to forget. I'd always longed to be part of something greater than myself and now I was. I looked back upon my life and at no point had I ever felt so accepted, so at peace, or so fulfilled.

I looked back. The water was black with my blood. Black? Some trick of the eyes perhaps. And as the shark disappeared with no small portion of me, I reached out my hand to touch it. To thank it somehow for this final gift. It’s skin was not what I had expected, but what is at this point? It felt coarse, like a sandpaper made out of tiny triangular teeth. For a moment, as if measurement of time can be relevant, I feared that I had failed. But as the water around me continued to blacken and my body’s component parts seem to drift away from each other, I realized I had already given the sum total of my thanks. It had relieved me of all the worst in me, leaving me only with true joy. With that, I died.

Favorite Movie

For a long time, Repo Man has been my favorite movie. I never really thought about why. I watched it, it struck a chord somehow, and I nominated it for my favorite movie. It unseated Wild at Heart and that was that. But you know why I found Repo Man so relatable and why I accepted it so easily? Because at some point, I guess stopped asking questions. Just like Emilio Estevez’s character. Every insane twist that the film takes, he simply accepts. Upon walking in on his best friend sleeping with his girl, he simply collects his pants and leaves. When he finds himself stealing a car for $20, beyond an initial adrenaline rush, he simply takes it in stride. Not only do aliens exist, but there’s one in the trunk of 1964 Chevy Malibu. Not a problem for Otto. He lives a life completely devoid of expectation and thereby devoid of surprise, regret, or judgement of any kind. He is a post-modern hero who risks nothing. Even his own life is valueless as the next day holds no promise of things to come.

And I went from Wild at Heart, a film about a dangerous, passionate, and misunderstood love, to a film that feels nothing. Not even for itself. To top it off, I chose that film without even giving it a moment’s thought. I blindly accepted a film that that blindly accepts everything. What does that say about me?

I think for some time now, I’ve tried to live a life without expectation. And I think at times, it’s worked out really well for me. Anything good that happens is a stroke of luck or proof of some divine intervention while all the bad can be chalked up to misfortune or some abstract sense of karma that I must have offended. I deserve whatever I get and there’s no sense in questioning or dwelling upon it. Life continues. My heart keeps beating simply because it hasn’t stopped.

It went on too long and I became just an observer in my own life. Too disinterested to really even risk hoping for more. I think now I am in a better frame of mind. Better, at least, in the sense that it is more suited for the path ahead of me. I accept responsibility my own fate.

None of this is to say that Repo Man is not a fantastic film. In fact, I highly recommend it. But if your life, or rather your attitude towards life, bears any resemblance to Otto’s it may be wise to reassess.

My new favorite movie is My Own Private Idaho. I’ll let you know how that works out for me when I can look back on it from the perspective of a new fave.