On Sid and Nancy
Part Three of a Four Part Series on Memory
I watched the movie Sid and Nancy when I was in high school. This was many years ago. I don’t remember much of it, just that it began at the bottom and went down from there, which I thought marked an impressive feat of storytelling. Sid was stumbling yelling in rainy streets, drunkenly surrendering to a love so toxic that it literally killed everyone. Death and love, violence and yearning. I thought it was cool. Aspirational, in fact. I thought that this was what love was supposed to be.