Another Chapter Closes

Sober (Hung-Over) Note: This particular entry was made last night sometmie between 10:20 and 11:30 pm without internet service. It was commissioned for This Improvised Life an improvised satire of This American Life. It will be performed live at the Historic Univeristy Theater, 5510 University Way, Seattle, WA on Friday, February 13th, 2009 at 8:00 pm (produced by Wing-It Porductions).

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Oh dear. I was pleasant a few moments ago, I thinik I have crossed the line into intoxicated. Pull you over intoxicated. This does not bode well for the morning.

I wonder, do chapeters ever really close? They do, I mean, but chapters slose but others start. Crystalis, the excellent video game for the Nintendo Entgertainment System beigns with “The end is really just a beginning in disguise.” I think this is true. Even if it’s 8 bit.

My ghead feels funny.

I feel a bit floaty.

A director dear to my heart said once on our closing night "The thing about theatre is, it is finite. We know the end date from the beginning. We open, we close. This is the worst and the best part." I'm paraphrasing of course. I'm also drinking scotch. Not especailyl great scotch but scotch.

I wonder what people do when they're closing night, when tey're chapter closes what do people do. People who do not have something finite. Nothing is forever but no one expects to be fired. First it was an economic slump, than recession, now they're throwing out the word depression. I was luckily, I knew it was a recession beofre anyone was willing to say the word. And I got out of my shitty, tanking job and got another before everything started to affect my commission. More so. But now I have debt. Which sucks. Boo to debt.

David Letterman is on and I dont' care for him.

I would very much like to be an actor wo gets paid to tour talk shows and talk abotu my most recent projects. Maybe that thought is a bit lofty.

Sorrry I digress.

Chapters closing. It's so hard to consider them. No one wants to meet the end. We only think of the transition into the new. So let us not think of this as an end. Let us tink of it as a beginning in disguise. These stories we tell, these stories we experience, live on. Live on in memory and in hearts and in heads. when our stories close this evning, the lights will dim and you will exit the theater but you will take them with you. Please take them with you. Love them.; Cherish them. Excuse the rambling, and please accept my warm embrace. My thank you . My apprecaition. For the times we had but more importantly fo rthe times still to come.

See you then.

Freedom

Sober (Hung-Over) Note: This entry was commissioned for This Improvised Life an improvised satire of This American Life. It will be performed live at the Historic Univeristy Theater, 5510 University Way, Seattle, WA on Thursday, February 12th, 2009 at 8:00 pm (produced by Wing-It Porductions).

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I am not free. I'm a trying to be. But I am not.

First of all locked in by too much beer. And that sucks. I mean I could talk about Bush or healt care or thhe arts or whatever but let s be fair. I lock myself up. Locked up by decorum and tact and desire. desire locks you up. In a different way. Tose wo embrace desire are not plagues by this but I am because when the perfecet moment comes I know, and I know just wat to say but I never say it. I am not plagued by parking lot wit. I haver it at my disposal my issue is saying it. One of tese days.

I'm broigt back to the red line.

That is unncessary.

I won't have it.

My life is shambles. It is constant shambles. The onl;y way to have freedom is to move. To new people to new places to where nobody bknows anything. I ddi it once. I did it a couple times. It's very hard. And lonely. Oh so lonely. And you never end up just like you were. Maybe tat's the blessing. Maybe that's the curse.

My back hurts. and my front is flabby. Dude tat sucks. What one really needs is comfortability. Of self. Of sitaution. of cocupation. of income. these are all so difficult, ow does one accomodate?

I don't know. I wish I did but I really don't.

there's a picture of me. a picture of me and my dad in disney land. And we're wearing Indaina Jones hats ( we each got one) standing in the line for some ride. And I think about that time. That moment. MY mom and dad divorced just one year later. what was my dad thinking of when e put is arm around me? Was he thinking of my family? Of my mom? Of our vacaation? Of his new girlfriend? Of ths vacations tey might take? We smile so hard in that picture. it looks honest. Father and son. at disneyland. my first time. my last time maybe. Behind us I tyink is robinson caruso. perhaps tat is freedom.

Maybe the only way to freedom is to cut ties with everything you lareday know.

I can't cut ties with my loves. My girl, my passions, improv, theatre, all the rest. It'ws too hard it hurts to mcuh. To bid adieu. But I am a rteck. tieds to too many things. I had freedom than I strived fo rtihgngs to tie me down. Now I am tied down. I look for freedom.

my head hurts I think. It may be owrse in the mornign.