Every Space Cowboy Deserves an End


Space Cowboy Earned His End

by Christopher R. Myers

Well, I've been recording and editing and melt-downing for the last few days do have failed to make it back to the keyboard and continue my daily torrent of words, expounding whatever odd thought has crossed my brain. Should take that word out. Failed. Not that failure isn't an option, quite the opposite, but because saying I failed because I was busy doing other work is a harsh tone that can lead to burnout and failing health.
Or a snot bubble bursting meltdown. You know whatever you like.


I'm hard on myself about not getting work done because I know now how easy it is to fall into a hard worn depression of escapist tendencies. To cocoon oneself in some sort of childish armor. Middle finger to the world for longer than it was meant to be held out, spitting in the face of anyone who tells you to act your age or be more adult,and constantly fighting that by sliding further and further down into a world where doing nothing because it's what you were told not to do, and being as abrasive to the world as you can stand to be is your identity. Even if you're doing it all in fun it is a toxin to the being. It warps your sense of self and your sense of the world to remain in “shock & awe” adolescent rebellion for the better part of your adult years.
Or what is perceived to be your adult years.


Every lesson I've ever been able to understand and digest was taught to me in the language of film and television. Not because I'm some wild orphan raised on the stoop of your neighborhood's weird abandoned house, but because the magic light box made sense in a way that the world outside my bedroom ever could. It's where I learned my sense of comedy and cadence of speech. How I taught myself to be tolerable in a room full of typical people doing their typical things. The foibles of a comedic actor weren't relatable, but the humor was easy to attach to. The way people spoke to each other and how they interacted stuck with me. This of course progressed passed just observing people through film, and became a way I related to myself and the things I was going through at any given period in my life.

My ability to perform human comes from and is dependent upon the way I digest visual media and the written word.

So a simple movie about a ragtag group of sad broken people that become a family aboard a barely functioning star-ship with a selfish, idiotic, immature, almost-man cackling and quipping and making references to dated television n turns out to mean a great deal to me it should come as no surprise. They're just movies. It's not the most important thing. There will be more of them. My father's voice insists from a long gone time when I was still young enough to be allowed to pout and protest in my bedroom when the mechanisms of an industry I wished I Could be a part of stopped a cool thing from happening. Maybe, they are just movies, but that doesn't make them useless or without merit. Every film I've ever watched from the greatest to the worst has taught me something about life, the universe, and my place among everything. Without Clerks I never would've thought that you could make a movie about two people throwing quick jokes at each other, and it gave me courage. Rushmore taught me that the way I saw creativity and how to use it was wrong, and harmful to people around me. Guardians of the Galaxy taught me that it's alright that something stopped my growth a long time ago. That for years I chased a death fitting a sewer rat, and studied the art of never waking, and this was a valid course of action in the wake of trauma and pain. A stupid comic book movie about a talking tree taught me that the family you make can sometimes be stronger and more fitting for the person you grew into than the family that made you. That isn't a knock against my parents or anyone's parents really, just a fact of life, sometimes the environment you find yourself in and an inborn nature takes you down a hill from the apple tree and into a river where through some miracle of luck and timing you wind up on a secluded lake shore with a few other renegade apples and make a tiny orchard. Everyone is beaten and bruised, Everyone is broken and jagged, but Everyone is capable of loving and being loved. Everyone is running from something. We just have to find those that are running in the same direction. Weird families make the best families. The blood of battle is thicker than the water of the womb. I've known that but Guardians of the Galaxy made it apparent. Made me see my little broken hearted tribe for the make-shift family it is.

The Sequel took that family and forced them to face their trauma, separately. Only after dissolving and fighting for themselves could the unit become cohesive once again. It's alright to continue the battle alone, wit the strength your family gave you. You might not make it, but we will, and we will not move on without you quietly. All directionless, self-loathing, immature, destructive, fools can be redeemed if they find themselves worth it. Even a ruthless space pirate can see the light at death. Sometimes you have to kill off parts of you that others would see as a blessing, in order to do what is right for yourself.
Movies are important. Stories matter. Having the possibility of my last memory of these characters be their destruction at the hands of an abuser, and never ending the arc all of them have earned is disheartening to say the least. Their story was worth more than how it is being treated. These characters earned their final act resolution, and to right off into the stars on forever adventures.

Every Space Cowboy Deserves Their Redemptive Ending. It's sad that these might not get one.


There isn't a movie that hasn't taught some key life lesson, but I worry about what we miss from those we'll never see.

Christopher MyersComment