Bowling Green State Film World

At Bowling Green State University, it never occurred to me that an Asian kid (which there were only a handful INCLUDING my sister) who went into the arts would be considered a homo. Which made sense considering the town was known for tractor pull. Never mind “the townies” never thought it also had on their sign…figure skater Scott Hamilton and Dodgers legend Orel Hershisher. Oh wait…his name is Orel.

We also had bad ass motherfuckin’ Black-exploitation actor Bernie Casey. Who played football though. So he was no homo. For the white folk, Bernie was the head of the Lambda Lambda Lambda chapter in “Revenge Of The Nerds.”

I didn’t even hide the fact that I loved the arts and wanted to make movies. Of course, I was more Scorsese touched than…Goddard (look it up, you uncultured apes!). There’s a scene in “Rushmore” that really summed up the experience of making short movies at “Bowling Green State University.” Which is the scene where the bully who has been harassing Schwartzman’s character (I’m really terrible with character names) is asked to be in one of his productions. To which the bully instantly ceases to be a bully. In other words, when I asked seemingly non-artists to be in my short movies, the stopped thinking it was for homos. I think we all have that narcissism in us.

I’ll be honest, I’m not a homosexual. One of the reasons that I got into movies was to meet girls. Just that the movies I watched happened to overlap with women homos liked. I had a crush on Donna Reed & Vivien Leigh and…well, you get the picture. While gay dudes probably wanted to be like them, I wanted to bang them and have them cook me breakfast (side note: apparently Vivien Leigh was a nymphomaniac and bi-polar. I doubt she would have a recipe for chicken cacciatore). I actually met the girl I loved really deeply there trying to get her to be in one of my movies. She was a sculpture student sitting outside propped against the art building. I approached her and asked if she wanted to be in my movie. Like some dirtbag producer. Who makes fucking movies in Northwest Ohio? She probably thought. She seemed street tough (from Baltimore), but her soft sad light green eyes looked up at me suspiciously, took a pull from a Winston cigarette and said a flat “no.” I reeled a little. Somewhat hurt that someone wouldn’t be a) flattered b) jumping to be in a movie. I pitched harder. I danced like I was on “Solid Gold” (80’s reference). She just went back to smoking. And I walked away, tail firmly between my legs. Incidentally, she became my girlfriend that same year and we dated on and off…for the next seven years! She would remind me of that day here and there. How corny it was to attempt to get a date by making a movie. Which, I can reveal now, it honestly was to get her to be in my movie. She’s now married to another guy and have children somewhere in Pennsylvania.

So, it goes without saying, a lot of what I did would some off as gay there. Probably gay in society alone. Things like…thinking. Thinking deep thoughts, smoking and doing art is Super-Homo. Think about the dudes who work on cars or motorcycles. They don’t fucking think about deep shit. That’s fag shit. I also started hanging out with my 50 year old landlord and her business partner, another middle aged woman, who ran a hair salon outside of town. They were these adorable (gay word) women who owned the apartment I lived in. So I’d stop off to drop off the check but then get a haircut or just chit-chat about town. They fascinated me since they were there since the town was there (I mean their family). They never told me if they were married, or maybe…

Old people story always fascinated me, because, they knew a time when things appeared simpler. Whether it was true or not. I tend to share those stories now about the 1980’s, which I’m learning Ronald Reagan wasn’t the Cabbage Patch mutton head doll we all believed he was. Uncle Ronnie was so…um…adorable.

Anyway, I talked their ear off about movies. In fact, I had my hair streaked one time like Max did in “Mad Max” but I came off looking like Tiffany, from “Breakfast at Tiffanys” (which I know her name was Holly Golightly, but it’s funnier this way).

I was pretty sullen for that town. For Bowling Green State. I found things to do WAY before the internet. I could drive from small town to small town and hit a wayward bar and take photos. I liked venturing out (since my dorms were so boring). Come back, eat and drink myself into a stupor while watching movies. Or playing video games. We’d take group trips to the mall and fuck around there too. A lot of fodder for stories…if I could remember them.

I know a lot of people may shit on the school for being in the middle of nowhere. But things build up. I personally liked I was so isolated. And miss it, as I type in the shithole of Van Nuys. I call this a “shithole” because SO many people have no idea how much better it can be with more space. Breathing room. Maybe some people like others breathing on them.

Those days hold a great deal of fondness for me. Because there was a lot more clarity, in terms of what I was going to do. And doing it. Though, a lot of reckless behavior stunted my growth. I loved that the community supported our nonsense. Community may exist in Los Angeles, but it seems to be that people bring out their own community and don’t venture as far.