"All Grown Up and Nowhere To Go" (Spader speaks)

I'm an actor, not a generational spokesman, but you notice certain things. There's a tremendous concentration on immediacy and impatience. Remember when you could eat mushrooms and be gone for eight or twelve hours? All of a sudden it's cocaine. "I don't have time to drop acid or even smoke a joint," people say. "Cocaine only takes half an hour." Then that's not quick enough, and it's "Let's smoke crack." Speed and efficiency rule. The lack of respect for age, time, experience, patience, history--it's really scary. I'm right in the middle - thirty-one. I look around at my peers and realize the most of the people I admire and respect seem to be of the generation before mine. The late Sixties and early Seventies were the influences on my life - and I was all of ten years old. Most of my friends are in their late thirties. That's the chair I'm most comfortable in. Our generation is still trying desperately to find a way out of its shadow and scream at the top of its lungs - about something. We can't, because we've distanced ourselves from the world. We're more detatched, desensitized - less visceral and alive. I've played some of the worst of our generation. My attitude is, if I'm going to play him, I'm going to play his as the biggest ass of all time. One of my ways sensitizing myself is to get all the desensitized touches right. The more complex you make that, the more distance you can put between yourself and what you loathe. What's achievement? Is it the quality of the means or the quality of the end? As far as I can tell, the end if just the resting place to more means. Say you get there. You still have to go home and wake up the next day. I see friends and relatives try to buy a house, raise a family, pay for insurance. Then I hear the labels and name-calling about all of that. The only thing that unifies us, maybe, is that everyone I know inherited some sort of strange anxiety. For me, it was eased be doing manual labor for five years after dropping out of boarding school. Someone else can storm the barricades, then relentlessly raise three children. The day-to-day struggle is the most heroic struggle anyone fights. Something won through a shortcut or a hole in the fabric is just not as heroic.

Esquire Magazine: May 1991 by Raul Vega (Thank you, Kristin)