Thursday, March 6, 2008

The Case for the Canonization of Patrick Swayze, Relative to Me


I first noticed Pat's star power, as a sex-god nose-crinkler (take or leave the dancing) circa 1987. This saucy film settled into heavy rotation in my slumber party circle for the majority of sixth grade. I thought that would be enough to satisfy my needs a la for e ver. And it did for several years... until... a memorable SNL performance involving Chippendale's dance moves, Tina Turner-esque tresses, and playing sweetheart to my boy, Chris Farley, curb sided the sexual hotness. It was then he moved from sexual to asexual. His likability remained HIGH, just not sexy-high. I simply re-catalogued him as a tiny-wasted goof-ball. Finally, Donnie Darko was revealed to me (like ten fucking years after everyone else saw it) (thanks "friends" for recommending good movies to me, NOT) and the viewing experience finally solidified Swayze's ACTUAL acting craft. My respect for him had come full circle. Beef-cake fantasy... total dork... exceptional thespian... the layers which construct the complexity of all human beings.

And honestly, I didn't even hate his crappy song "She's like the wind". He was a bit tone-deaf... but who isn't?

Yes, he invented my puberty, stepped-up my sense of self-deprecation and challenged my judgements, and finding out he has terminal cancer? Well, it nearly breaks my heart.

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