The Movie in My Head

2:00 a.m. This is written with the caveat that I've been drinking, so this probably won't make much sense, and it'll be waaaay to maudlin. Maudlin Rouge.

Anyway, I just spent an evening with the Lagemae watching the beloved Kenny Bolden (on the left in that picture there) in a production of Keely & Du. Ken was wonderful, as only he can be -- well, as he can be in the company of lesser actors. But in this case, I think he was well-matched by the other actors, but they were all hampered by unconscionably bad direction.

Suffice it to say that Ken was good, but I wasn't particularly enamored of the production.

Here's the maudlin part: the experience depressed the shit out fo me -- because this is what I have to look forward to if I ever go back to the theatre. To know that I an other perfectly capable actors are going to be wasted on the inept designs of dilettante, self-important, entirely clueless directors. And that's just mondo disillusioning to me, 'cuz I've always, from day one, prided myself on believing that actors gathered on stage to help bring to life the vision of a director and a playwright, and I've wanted nothing more than to be part of that collaborative team. I'm not sure where that leaves me.

I could deal with that, though. It's not like the thought of abanoding the foolish, ephemeral hopes of ever really doing theater that connects with people ever again hasn't crossed my mind. But I came to a separate, unconnected realization tonight that was even far more daunting.

I have to encourage the Lageamae to leave New York and go back to Pittsburgh. They are so unhappy and unfulfilled here that I just need to get over my selfish need to have them immediately accessible. Kirsten is miserable, and Kevin has really given up on New York, though he would argue otherwise.

The idea of not having them to lean on, to cheer me, to make this place liveable and bearable -- to make it home -- well, it just makes me impossibly sad.

During the conversation over drinks after Kenny's show, listening to Kevin & Kirsten explain why they hated New York to Kenny's friends Brian and Dan... I don't know, it just seemed like I was hearing two people trying to rationalize a decision they'd already come to, and suddenly I realized I don't want the people that I love to feel that they have to justify what they feel. They're not happy. They have to go where they're happy. They have to leave New York.

And I need to learn to be happy with them at a distance. To be happy for them.

So, I put down thoughts that I've not actually recorded before: that I'm thinking of not returning to acting.

I'm not sure I want to be that guy for the rest of my life; that guy who gave up. But so much of what's required to make a life in theater (or TV or film) is really, really off-putting for me.

I have a lot to think about, I guess.

I took the F train home, and got off at the 7th Avenue stop, about a mile from my apartment, and I walked down 6th Avenue, which was dark and quiet. It suited my mood -- but also made me keenly aware of my own infatuation with the idea of myself as the tragic, romantic, lonely figure. It so much easier to be all "woe is me." It just cuts a more dashing figure. To me. In the movie that's going on in my head. I can only imagine how silly it seems to other people.