You're just like us. Your brother is the odd one. (listening to: "A Part of That" from the Original Cast Recording of The Last 5 Years)
Some of you may not know this story. Allow me to entertain you.
Long ago, Zeus entrusted the creation of all living things to a pair of brothers. Epimethius and Prometheus. When Epimethius finally got around to creating mankind, he found that he had used up all the good stuff and didn't have anything left from the box of "Good" to give. Prometheus climbed up Mount Olympus in the cover of darkness and stole fire from the Gods and gave it to Man.
The next morning when Zeus saw what had happened, he ordered that Prometheus be bound to a rock and a crow would come and eat out his liver every day until eternity, forcing him to be under eternal pain. To Epimethius, he gave a beautiful woman. Some of you may have heard of her. Pandora.
You see, the interesting thing about this story is that Epimethius ran out of good qualities to give to man, so Hesiod has us inheriting intelligence (fire). The meaning is clear. Humans, on the whole, are not good creatures. We're just intelligent. Aware.
Sometimes I wonder if maybe we weren't better off without that gift. And maybe that Prometheus got what he deserved.
END TRANSMISSION...
Wednesday, January 02, 2008
Tuesday, January 01, 2008
The Transient, Impermanent Nature of Things
10 CLEAR
20 PRINT "HELLO WORLD!"
30 PRINT ""
40 PRINT ""
50 PRINT "... OR WHOEVER."
60 END
(listening to: "Natalie Portman" by Ozma)
A new year, and new beginnings. I suppose that I, like most people around this time of year, begin to get all nostalgic and contemplative on the nature of the world around us when confronted with the reality of another year of existence. Why such importance placed on a single day? Why do people from hundreds and thousands of miles around gather in Gotham to watch a giant crystal ball slowly descend on a rail to a lit sign with a number on it that means no more or less than the number that was there 365 days ago?
Is it hope? Do people associate a new year with a clean slate? 'Cause there isn't one. You don't get to start over, you don't get reprieve from the things you've done or the people you've hurt. It's just another day. Like yesterday. And tomorrow. Today is New Year's Day, and while I'm sitting here at work waiting for the nobody to call in, the post office that has my package that I've been awaiting for over a week now is closed. No mail today. Before the internet, before the modem and the FAX machine, this was a day of NO communication from the outside world. Why? What's the point? Why is today so special? Tomorrow, everything starts again, and the people in jail stay there, the bills you need to pay will show up, and the rent is due. Life. Moves. On. Go with it.
What's interesting about that, though? Is that nothing stays. The people you counted on the most will one day become "that person you once knew." You'll look back on pictures and stories and think about those times, and everything will always be rosy. Life's always better in the past. (And in the future, if you ask those huddled, freezing masses in front of the giant neon Cola sign.) But time catches up to us all. Your pain, your frustration and anger are as real to you as the love and peace you feel. But in a week? a year? 10 years? You'll only remember how great things used to be, and not your pain. Because you'll have new pain.
So what do we do? Are we doomed to live this doublethink for the rest of our lives? Stomping out our Orwellian existence until we shed gin-soaked tears and love Big Brother? How do you reconcile the overwhelming hope and trust in the future with the fact that according to you as an observer, things are always getting worse?
What do we do? At the moment, no one wants to know more than I do.
END TRANSMISSION...
20 PRINT "HELLO WORLD!"
30 PRINT ""
40 PRINT ""
50 PRINT "... OR WHOEVER."
60 END
(listening to: "Natalie Portman" by Ozma)
A new year, and new beginnings. I suppose that I, like most people around this time of year, begin to get all nostalgic and contemplative on the nature of the world around us when confronted with the reality of another year of existence. Why such importance placed on a single day? Why do people from hundreds and thousands of miles around gather in Gotham to watch a giant crystal ball slowly descend on a rail to a lit sign with a number on it that means no more or less than the number that was there 365 days ago?
Is it hope? Do people associate a new year with a clean slate? 'Cause there isn't one. You don't get to start over, you don't get reprieve from the things you've done or the people you've hurt. It's just another day. Like yesterday. And tomorrow. Today is New Year's Day, and while I'm sitting here at work waiting for the nobody to call in, the post office that has my package that I've been awaiting for over a week now is closed. No mail today. Before the internet, before the modem and the FAX machine, this was a day of NO communication from the outside world. Why? What's the point? Why is today so special? Tomorrow, everything starts again, and the people in jail stay there, the bills you need to pay will show up, and the rent is due. Life. Moves. On. Go with it.
What's interesting about that, though? Is that nothing stays. The people you counted on the most will one day become "that person you once knew." You'll look back on pictures and stories and think about those times, and everything will always be rosy. Life's always better in the past. (And in the future, if you ask those huddled, freezing masses in front of the giant neon Cola sign.) But time catches up to us all. Your pain, your frustration and anger are as real to you as the love and peace you feel. But in a week? a year? 10 years? You'll only remember how great things used to be, and not your pain. Because you'll have new pain.
So what do we do? Are we doomed to live this doublethink for the rest of our lives? Stomping out our Orwellian existence until we shed gin-soaked tears and love Big Brother? How do you reconcile the overwhelming hope and trust in the future with the fact that according to you as an observer, things are always getting worse?
What do we do? At the moment, no one wants to know more than I do.
END TRANSMISSION...
Wednesday, October 10, 2007
I Don't Care What Jim Says...
That is NOT the real Benjamin Franklin. I am 99% sure. (listening to: "Walking in Memphis" by Marc Cohen)
A little taste of one of my new obsessions for you all. For all the hype that The Office gets, it's underrated. Trust me. It's so brilliantly and subtly acted and written, sometimes you forget you're watching a sitcom. Go get it. /rant.
So, my little blogites, what shall we talk about today? It's been so long...
I leave for Orlando in a few days. The yearly business trip isn't to Vegas this year, which is somewhat disappointing. However, there's Disney fun to be had, and if Spike's fervor for all things Mickey is any indication, I should be in for some good times. If anyone has any suggestions for things to do while I'm there, I'm all big-black-mouse-ears.
I'm not involved in a show right now. It's so strange to be without work. This is the first time in over a year that I haven't had anything to do besides CSz, and it's unsettling. I haven't been to any auditions, granted. There hasn't been anything out there auditioning right now that interested me. Maybe that's wrong? As an actor, should I be looking for work even if I'm not into it? Just for the sake of working? Somehow that seems wrong to me, but if it means the difference between working and not working... maybe that's the way to go?
Life is very interesting right now. I feel like I'm on the verge of something very big, but it's clouded over and I can't see it. It may be just a result of me feeling like I'm in the doldrums right now even though things are going as well as I could expect them to, but I don't know... Eli's coming.
END TRANSMISSION...
A little taste of one of my new obsessions for you all. For all the hype that The Office gets, it's underrated. Trust me. It's so brilliantly and subtly acted and written, sometimes you forget you're watching a sitcom. Go get it. /rant.
So, my little blogites, what shall we talk about today? It's been so long...
I leave for Orlando in a few days. The yearly business trip isn't to Vegas this year, which is somewhat disappointing. However, there's Disney fun to be had, and if Spike's fervor for all things Mickey is any indication, I should be in for some good times. If anyone has any suggestions for things to do while I'm there, I'm all big-black-mouse-ears.
I'm not involved in a show right now. It's so strange to be without work. This is the first time in over a year that I haven't had anything to do besides CSz, and it's unsettling. I haven't been to any auditions, granted. There hasn't been anything out there auditioning right now that interested me. Maybe that's wrong? As an actor, should I be looking for work even if I'm not into it? Just for the sake of working? Somehow that seems wrong to me, but if it means the difference between working and not working... maybe that's the way to go?
Life is very interesting right now. I feel like I'm on the verge of something very big, but it's clouded over and I can't see it. It may be just a result of me feeling like I'm in the doldrums right now even though things are going as well as I could expect them to, but I don't know... Eli's coming.
END TRANSMISSION...
Wednesday, August 22, 2007
Best. Birthday. Evar.
OMGWTFBBQ!!11!!1!!!eleventyone! (listening to: soft explosions in the distance)
This now adorns my new sunroom in my new place. And I can officially die a happy man.
Apparently Natalie has spent the last month wrangling all of my friends into lying to me about what is happening for my birthday. Subtle plans were laid all throughout the last couple weeks, and they all came to fruition last night. Somehow, everyone ended up at my new place last night, and fun was being had, though a few people looked like they were just there because they had nothing else to do. Natalie called me up and told me that she needed to talk to me outside. So, I went outside, and there she was, standing next to the greatest arcade game ever made by man. I freaked out for a bit, and all my friends came running out of my place to share in the joy. Ten minutes later, we had my new girl plugged in, and lasers flying.
The game is great, and in really nice shape, considering it's nearly as old as I am. But the best part was just how Frank Capra the whole moment was. Nearly all of my friends had pitched in to help buy this thing for me, and I had never felt so well-liked before. It was a great feeling.
Thank you so much to everyone who made this possible, I feel truly blessed. God bless you all.
END TRANSMISSION...
This now adorns my new sunroom in my new place. And I can officially die a happy man.
Apparently Natalie has spent the last month wrangling all of my friends into lying to me about what is happening for my birthday. Subtle plans were laid all throughout the last couple weeks, and they all came to fruition last night. Somehow, everyone ended up at my new place last night, and fun was being had, though a few people looked like they were just there because they had nothing else to do. Natalie called me up and told me that she needed to talk to me outside. So, I went outside, and there she was, standing next to the greatest arcade game ever made by man. I freaked out for a bit, and all my friends came running out of my place to share in the joy. Ten minutes later, we had my new girl plugged in, and lasers flying.
The game is great, and in really nice shape, considering it's nearly as old as I am. But the best part was just how Frank Capra the whole moment was. Nearly all of my friends had pitched in to help buy this thing for me, and I had never felt so well-liked before. It was a great feeling.
Thank you so much to everyone who made this possible, I feel truly blessed. God bless you all.
END TRANSMISSION...
Friday, August 03, 2007
Denouement
As our story comes to a close... (listening to: creepy silence)
--DAY 3--
Again, we are woken up by small giggles at a time when not even the elderly should be up. This time, Natalie promises me that she won't be upset if I don't come up right away, and thanks me for plugging in her phone. I earnestly try to get back to sleep, but it's no use. I'm up.
Today's plan is to prepare for the arrival of just the inner circle of family for late lunch/dinner. Fran is scurrying about trying to make sure Harris and Jackie are taken care of, and Natalie really wants to go to Kent to see where she went to school. I'm game, so we get into the car.
It's a pleasant drive to Kent, and we pass it in quiet reverie (read: hungover headaches), punctuated by pleasant conversation (read: Natalie saying something, me saying "what?" and her deciding it's not worth repeating). When we arrive, I'm ferried around the campus, shown the pretty buildings and told the anecdotes- All standard fare when showing someone around your old campus. But this is Kent we're talking about, so everything's a little bit different. We went to the memorial, saw the sectioned off places where the students fell, and when it's warm and you're hungover, everything seems a little graver. Hearing Natalie tell the story Neil Young put to music just seemed.. I don't know. It hit me harder than I thought it would.
From Kent, we go to a local drive-in type restaurant for a sandwich called a "Salad Boy." From what I understand, it's a vegetarian's dreamboat. Personally, I could barely stomach the sight of it. It had pickles. 'Nuff said. I enjoyed my cheeseburger and a local version of Quepapas, washing it all down with a delicious peanut butter milkshake. No, Fran, I did NOT spill any in your wonderful automobile... maybe.
Now beings the portion of our tale wherein our heroes drive aimlessly along the cliffs and hills of Eastern Ohio. Natalie is really a fantastic tour guide, telling stories about each road and taking me to a place where giant birds play... or rather, used to.. before something terrible happened that no one seems to want to talk about. About an hour later, we end up at Mom's house, and she shows me pictures of young Natalie, and we watch golf, and nearly fall asleep right then and there. No time for sleeping!
One quick stop before we return to Brain and Fran's house at a pet store so Natalie can make her little happy growling noise at the puppies and kitties, and then I need to redeem my weekend with a quick purchase at Home Depot. Replacement plant holders. I mend what I reap, folks.
Finally returning back to the house, Brain has concocted roast beast which the very smell of sets angels singing on clouds far away, and I'm suddenly much less tired. We sit down to eat, and Dad is eyeing me with a somewhat auspicious eye. I aim for conversation with the man, and he's amiable and open. So far, so good.
The rest of the evening passes languidly, mostly conversation and wine sipping until the very end of the evening when Natalie, Fran, Guinevere, Brain and I all have a talk about the Summers women. Seems that they are a lively bunch, fraught with complications and neuroses. I take careful notes, realizing that not only will there be a test later, but I'm actually living it every day. This is good information for me to have, I think. The girls seem to be unerringly self-aware of their particular neediness, and there is no excuses or blame placed. It is what it is, and to be honest.. the upside far outweighs the bad.
Now it is bedtime, and this time I know that I'm getting up in 5 hours. Somehow, as I turn out the lights, I know that it was all worthwhile.
END TRANSMISSION...
--DAY 3--
Again, we are woken up by small giggles at a time when not even the elderly should be up. This time, Natalie promises me that she won't be upset if I don't come up right away, and thanks me for plugging in her phone. I earnestly try to get back to sleep, but it's no use. I'm up.
Today's plan is to prepare for the arrival of just the inner circle of family for late lunch/dinner. Fran is scurrying about trying to make sure Harris and Jackie are taken care of, and Natalie really wants to go to Kent to see where she went to school. I'm game, so we get into the car.
It's a pleasant drive to Kent, and we pass it in quiet reverie (read: hungover headaches), punctuated by pleasant conversation (read: Natalie saying something, me saying "what?" and her deciding it's not worth repeating). When we arrive, I'm ferried around the campus, shown the pretty buildings and told the anecdotes- All standard fare when showing someone around your old campus. But this is Kent we're talking about, so everything's a little bit different. We went to the memorial, saw the sectioned off places where the students fell, and when it's warm and you're hungover, everything seems a little graver. Hearing Natalie tell the story Neil Young put to music just seemed.. I don't know. It hit me harder than I thought it would.
From Kent, we go to a local drive-in type restaurant for a sandwich called a "Salad Boy." From what I understand, it's a vegetarian's dreamboat. Personally, I could barely stomach the sight of it. It had pickles. 'Nuff said. I enjoyed my cheeseburger and a local version of Quepapas, washing it all down with a delicious peanut butter milkshake. No, Fran, I did NOT spill any in your wonderful automobile... maybe.
Now beings the portion of our tale wherein our heroes drive aimlessly along the cliffs and hills of Eastern Ohio. Natalie is really a fantastic tour guide, telling stories about each road and taking me to a place where giant birds play... or rather, used to.. before something terrible happened that no one seems to want to talk about. About an hour later, we end up at Mom's house, and she shows me pictures of young Natalie, and we watch golf, and nearly fall asleep right then and there. No time for sleeping!
One quick stop before we return to Brain and Fran's house at a pet store so Natalie can make her little happy growling noise at the puppies and kitties, and then I need to redeem my weekend with a quick purchase at Home Depot. Replacement plant holders. I mend what I reap, folks.
Finally returning back to the house, Brain has concocted roast beast which the very smell of sets angels singing on clouds far away, and I'm suddenly much less tired. We sit down to eat, and Dad is eyeing me with a somewhat auspicious eye. I aim for conversation with the man, and he's amiable and open. So far, so good.
The rest of the evening passes languidly, mostly conversation and wine sipping until the very end of the evening when Natalie, Fran, Guinevere, Brain and I all have a talk about the Summers women. Seems that they are a lively bunch, fraught with complications and neuroses. I take careful notes, realizing that not only will there be a test later, but I'm actually living it every day. This is good information for me to have, I think. The girls seem to be unerringly self-aware of their particular neediness, and there is no excuses or blame placed. It is what it is, and to be honest.. the upside far outweighs the bad.
Now it is bedtime, and this time I know that I'm getting up in 5 hours. Somehow, as I turn out the lights, I know that it was all worthwhile.
END TRANSMISSION...
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