I saw The Great Gatsby yesterday. It was amazing. I want to go on a holiday there. Not to New York, but actually to Gatsby’s house and his parties. To be transported into such a different world. To meet the infamous Gatsby and be invited to his parties. To witness such extravagance and the maddening highs of the ‘Roaring Twenties’.
It is easy to look at Gatsby and his parties and think that it must have been something of a golden age. Was it not? As I think about it more, I think about Gatsby, a man who only wanted to reconnect with the woman he loved 5 years hence. I think about Daisy, in an unhappy marriage, and still in love with Gatsby. I think about Tom, a wealthy heir to one of America’s largest fortunes, flirting between affairs, and jealously guarding what he owns. I see Nick Carraway, a man who knows nothing of the world he has stepped into, being swallowed up by the rich and famous, but ending up being used by those he meets. Their lives seem so glorious, full of parties and champagne and friends. But they cannot survive forever in such a world. Reality will catch up with them. In the end, one dies, two leave the city, and one is left wondering just what happened over the last year. It’s not all parties and champagne. Reality will always come crashing in.
Today the rain is having such an effect on me. I am melancholic. Listening to Lana Del Rey is not exactly brightening my mood. But I’m almost enjoying being transported into this state. I don’t know about you, but I can’t constantly play along with the illusion of a perfectly content life any more than Gatsby, Daisy, Tom and Nick could survive the heights of the ‘Roaring Twenties’. I need moments to feel reality. I need moments to feel gloomy. Today is one of those days. Sorry if you happen to cross my path today and I’m a bit quiet. But at least now you’ll know why.