chuba

This show, the show I'm acting in, isn't all that great for me. It makes me upset when I'm really in it. When I was twenty or so I used to get off on it a little when I could go a weepy one on stage. I felt like a such a commited actor, big actor man, chump sucka. You do a play where you hate yerself, and never really get to explain yerself and then you spit (mind you I mean literally spit) on yer familia, and walk away, and then these transitions aren't even well written, and eventually (80th performance or so), eventually my friends, you feel the service is fucking well rendered. You don't want to hate no more. You don't want to be upset. You wake up and realize you're eating yer feelings while drinking down yer nachos with a Vodka and listening to Ani DiFranco be upset at her ex. And there you both sit. You and Ani sitting there together, alone.
Well, from here on out I wonder if I can just be in ribald comedies with hip-hop stars and Eugene Levy. Some people actually wonder why the actor oldies sell out. I think about myself in twenty years, when I've done this 2 or 10 more times. If some hollywood schmuck would find it in his good graces to put me in Grumpy Old Men 3: Die Harder, so be it. I'll laugh my waning muscular buttocks all the way to the bank, and then I'd call Steve Martin and thank him for showing me the path.
This stage acting thing is a rough ass canvas. Think of it like so. You spend yer life thinking each job is like a tiny rock sculpture. Some significant yet little thing you make, slowly adding each one to a gallery that becomes yer body of work. But as the actor, you know the person sculpting, you realize as your gallery pieces gather up, that the older ones you made aren't even there anymore. Then one day you open yer eyes and see they're not different little rocks at all. It's all one great stone you've just spent all this time carving away at. The same rock, and each day you carve at it different. In the end it looks unfinished, like a slashed up clay ashtray in shop class. But you do it anyway because that's yer job. In the end it's not about yer sculpture. Each day you were telling someone else's story. You and a bunch of other actors let yer rocks form together like Voltron to make that one story you were supposed to get out. Then you take 'em apart and they look like nothing again. Just cut stones. And all we can hope is someone will remember how good our little Voltron looked, that one day they saw us play the leg...or the arm. It makes me wish the best ones were movies. Then I could use them on college girls when I'm old...or on my kids when they wonder why it took me so long to settle down and be with their mother, all be it out of wedlock. Smooches