(Let me preface this post by saying that I'm playing Roger in REnT up at TriArts Playhouse this month)
Fourth of July. 1pm. 2011.
"I'd rather be, rather be in rehearsal right now, baby" - Joe Iconis
I've kicked the numbness and the doctors and the squawking boxes of noise that dictate my choices - cuz hey baby - In the end - there ain't nothin' left to believe in but your own abilities.
I'm done anesthetizing myself with a little blue pill. This sensitive aesthete is ready to to break down your walls. All i want is to feel. I'm out for something more than the left side of my head.
The dollar signs in your eyes don't interest me - Kick me out of your house. I'll be alright. There ain't nothin' in that set list for me Mr. Wizard. There ain't nothin' there - and there ain't never gonna be. That's alright with me - cuz I've got my newfound sense of cosmic interconnectedness - a living soul with a breathing heart that feels deeply - that loves deeply - that hurts deeply - and rebounds greatly.
All my love to you baby - I've cast off my ectoplasm of doubt - traded in my skin for leather. Nobody knows how to ride anymore. Deep-pocketed humans wear cowboy hats & pose for pictures next to horses in their tight Bushwick blue jeans, faking the rest of us into interest.
There's a way to exist outside of the rehearsal room... outside of the song process in my head... I know there is... but besides heading to the Bronx, I haven't found it yet.
I suppose we'll get there soon... get to that place of comfortable existence - where truth is not something to be feared; but is a function of humanity.
------------------Following the path of least resistance hasn't worked for me thus far. I've had to harness my confrontational nature and cast off some of my righteous indignation for the sake of art. usually it's the other way around... But sometimes, in the room, I find myself questioning my function.
Are we artists? Is it pretentious to think of oneself as an artist? I'm a writer, an actor, a ........ I assume other people's roles. But am I an artist? Let's face it - we're entertainers; at the core of our art - our craft - our work - is the fact that what we do is for the benefit of others. We would be selfish to think that the visceral feeling of the artists on stage or in your stereo or your page is more important or meaningful than the response of our audience. We entertain - we distract people from the mundane, the meaningless and the physical manifestation of the fear of death.
And yet - the true artist works for no one but himself - The artist's work is creation - He does not create for money - He does not create even for love - The true artist creates because he HAS to - because the alternative is far too tragic, And because he will die if he doesn't.
Yet - as entertainers; I've always liked to think that we could have, oh, just a modicum of ambition and hope that through our art, we could change the world. It takes a man with a keen intellect, and an even deeper wealth of love to create art that not only entertains, but changes the world. Example:
HE got it. This man put his art above all else. Creating was second only to breathing - and at times, even breath fell by the wayside in favor of his art.
Larson was modest enough to recognize that he was an entertainer; brazen enough to believe that his brand of entertainment could change the world; and wise enough to know that money is not the be all and end all.
Who cares if he didn't make a dime off his show? It sucks, but that's not a tragedy. Not living to get his Pulitzer or Tony; also not a tragedy. The tragedy is that he never got to see his work come to life on Broadway. The tragedy, is that his life was aborted, and his child had to be delivered prematurely. The tragedy, is a father never getting to meet his child...
Everyone who loves his show becomes his child's foster parents - We have all had a small hand in raising Her. If there's any creative justice in the afterlife, Jon is looking down on his teenager smiling.
no edits, no spell-checks, no read thru,
No so Desperate Times.
p.s. come see the show.
This work is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-ShareAlike 3.0 United States License.
Fourth of July. 1pm. 2011.
"I'd rather be, rather be in rehearsal right now, baby" - Joe Iconis
I've kicked the numbness and the doctors and the squawking boxes of noise that dictate my choices - cuz hey baby - In the end - there ain't nothin' left to believe in but your own abilities.
I'm done anesthetizing myself with a little blue pill. This sensitive aesthete is ready to to break down your walls. All i want is to feel. I'm out for something more than the left side of my head.
The dollar signs in your eyes don't interest me - Kick me out of your house. I'll be alright. There ain't nothin' in that set list for me Mr. Wizard. There ain't nothin' there - and there ain't never gonna be. That's alright with me - cuz I've got my newfound sense of cosmic interconnectedness - a living soul with a breathing heart that feels deeply - that loves deeply - that hurts deeply - and rebounds greatly.
All my love to you baby - I've cast off my ectoplasm of doubt - traded in my skin for leather. Nobody knows how to ride anymore. Deep-pocketed humans wear cowboy hats & pose for pictures next to horses in their tight Bushwick blue jeans, faking the rest of us into interest.
There's a way to exist outside of the rehearsal room... outside of the song process in my head... I know there is... but besides heading to the Bronx, I haven't found it yet.
I suppose we'll get there soon... get to that place of comfortable existence - where truth is not something to be feared; but is a function of humanity.
------------------Following the path of least resistance hasn't worked for me thus far. I've had to harness my confrontational nature and cast off some of my righteous indignation for the sake of art. usually it's the other way around... But sometimes, in the room, I find myself questioning my function.
Are we artists? Is it pretentious to think of oneself as an artist? I'm a writer, an actor, a ........ I assume other people's roles. But am I an artist? Let's face it - we're entertainers; at the core of our art - our craft - our work - is the fact that what we do is for the benefit of others. We would be selfish to think that the visceral feeling of the artists on stage or in your stereo or your page is more important or meaningful than the response of our audience. We entertain - we distract people from the mundane, the meaningless and the physical manifestation of the fear of death.
And yet - the true artist works for no one but himself - The artist's work is creation - He does not create for money - He does not create even for love - The true artist creates because he HAS to - because the alternative is far too tragic, And because he will die if he doesn't.
Yet - as entertainers; I've always liked to think that we could have, oh, just a modicum of ambition and hope that through our art, we could change the world. It takes a man with a keen intellect, and an even deeper wealth of love to create art that not only entertains, but changes the world. Example:
Larson was modest enough to recognize that he was an entertainer; brazen enough to believe that his brand of entertainment could change the world; and wise enough to know that money is not the be all and end all.
Who cares if he didn't make a dime off his show? It sucks, but that's not a tragedy. Not living to get his Pulitzer or Tony; also not a tragedy. The tragedy is that he never got to see his work come to life on Broadway. The tragedy, is that his life was aborted, and his child had to be delivered prematurely. The tragedy, is a father never getting to meet his child...
However, in the midst of sorrow, his
death took place in the shadow of
new life. Larson gave his life to protect and nourish his child in utero. He did not feel this
sacrifice a vain or an empty one. And we will not debate his profound
wisdom now. (thanks Jack B. Sowards)
Everyone who loves his show becomes his child's foster parents - We have all had a small hand in raising Her. If there's any creative justice in the afterlife, Jon is looking down on his teenager smiling.
no edits, no spell-checks, no read thru,
No so Desperate Times.
p.s. come see the show.
This work is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-ShareAlike 3.0 United States License.
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