the truth

Last night I saw a small concert at the largo with Fiona Apple and Jon Brian and some other wonderfully talented musicians. It was an incredible experience. I laughed and almost cried at times. IT was a wonderfully moving and powerful expression of artistic excellence and humanity. I very much enjoyed seeing the shared experience on stage and how it carried into the audience. I joked with my friend (who was gracious enough to invite me) that it blew N'SYNC out of the water. i hadn't been to a concert since 2001 when I saw N'SYNC perform No Strings Attached. I was eleven and at the time was blown away. The Fiona Apple show was a whole new level for me.

I have an incredible love for music. I am an actor and although I have let that become a large part of my identity I can't forget what music does to me on that same level. The concert last night at the Largo soothed me. I can't even begin to describe in words how pleased my soul was with the treatment. It inspired me. I think it's important for me to go to these types of things; concerts, plays, art shows. To allow my soul to breathe and get its much needed nourishment. I have become, in recent years, a master at hiding. Isolation has been my greatest form of protection against the world. But what am I hiding from?

I'm starting to think what I'm really afraid of is myself. In continuing this line of thinking I guess I haven't been to good at hiding. It's as if I've taken refuge in the devils closet. Isolating only gets me more muddied and entangled in my self-woven snares. The hunter that gets caught in his own traps is ineffective to say the least. 

This life is something strange I must say. I seem to be always stricken with the disease of the "terminally unique." I realize more and more each day that it won't matter much what I do in my life in the grand scheme of things and that I should truly stop the grandiosity and just live my life for me. Not to say "fuck everyone else" but that I should stop making my own decisions with the worry of how they will eventually ( if they ever will) pan out in the world. I always feel I need more. I need something more to make me happy. I think that perhaps what we really need in this life to be fulfilled is much simpler and more organic than we think. 

I love to write. I love to sing. I love to dance. I love to draw and paint. I love to act. I love to laugh and make others laugh. So why don't I do these things each day? Why wouldn't I choose to lose myself each day in the process and stop worrying endlessly about the result?

All I can say is I'm working on it. One day at a time. One step at a time. Maybe one day I'll get in a good enough habit of it to be satisfied and happy.

"clever title" /" late night incoherent babble"/ half assed ideas/ lets see how hard i can be on myself

So today in acting class I was forced to confront myself. Myself as the actor and as the man. You see, yesterday marks my first day back to acting school and my craft. I have been on a six month hiatus getting my priorities realigned and doing some cleaning up if you will.

     I am very excited to be getting back on track and fulfilling a passion of mine. To be so engaged once again in something I love and something which stimulates me to no end both intellectually and spiritually, is truly a wonderful thing. I am very grateful to have had the opportunity today.

     For some reason these masks bear a huge resemblance to the extremes I have gone to in the past. Im either ecstatic or morbidly depressed. I wonder if this fuels my attraction to this art form.





     I am currently learning. It seems pointless to make such a statement but I have a tendency to think in each moment I have it all figured out. I'm so stubborn. It never fails to shock me how subtly powerful these defects can be. In the course of a conversation, they take many different forms. I hesitate to write about it in detail just because the prospect is a little overwhelming right now. My habits up until this point in my life are such that I am constantly becoming aware of my shortcomings and attempting to take action to the contrary. This is both seemingly miraculous as well as endlessly irksome. Tedious may be a better descriptor.

   Today also reminded me of how much I miss flexing my brain muscles so to speak. I miss college. I made a choice to delve into this acting craft and career adventure when I was no longer able to pursue both simultaneously under my specific terms. (After my Freshman year in NYU's undergrad drama program TISCH I took a different road)





     I just want to surrender. I feel that I'm constantly working on upkeep and future development. I AM INDEED MAKING PROGRESS. I absolutely must keep that in mind or I'll turn defeatist. But today I found out through my one-on-one with my teacher after an exercise that I am still blocked because of a character defect operating like a fucking ninja assassin in some nook or cranny of my mind. I am still afraid to let go completely; to totally give myself to the task at hand and fully surrender to it. I feel as if blocking out the big picture will render me adrift. If I don't plan the next few moves, I'm toast! I don't know...does it really even matter? Why can't I just enjoy the moment and say screw it to all that other horse shit? I suppose it makes sense that if I'm doing the right thing in the present moment that the future will take care of itself. SOUNDS LIKE A TRUST AND FAITH ISSUE TO ME. All I can say is I'm working on it. Progress is okay no matter how little I suppose.

Tea and Cookies in the Chateau d'Iff

So, once again, I sit here on my couch, in my apartment, hiding. I'm hiding from the world. I woke up at ten, realized it was ten already and was off with a bang. My disease raged on screaming at me, "well its already ten o'clock! Way to waste the day fuckhead!!" and so we began :)

     I decided to have some breakfast ( toast and green peppermint tea) with no plan in mind. I read up on the news and pretended this would be a the begninng to a "normal" day. I decided it'd be a brilliant fucking idea to sit and watch a 2 hour movie on netflix and ( just as the doctor ordered) I feel like shit. I feel like a beast is raging inside my head. Like my inner being is wrought with cage madness. The only difference (and here;'s the really fucked up part) is that I have the keys..I can not only physically leave my apartment but I also have some tools to escape this inner plight. God forbid I use them correctly.

     Instead, I choose to revert to old ways. Not out of comfort ( as that decribes a far cry from what Im feeling now) but out of, oh let's say, tradition. My disease, which I so readily and so frequently put on trial, begs for extradition. This image above truly calmed me a degree or two. To pull back and realize this is essentially what I look like is amusing. It helps to put things in perspective a bit.

Right before I opened my computer to blog, I groped at an old tool in a last ditch effort. A box of store brand oreo's would surely be the cure. As I grabbed the last cookie something caught my eye. "365" Whole Food's' store brand stamp was incribed on this cookie. I thought to myself "Why haven't I noticed this before? I have spent the last week tearing through this huge box and it wasn't until the very last cookie that I even suspected something was written on them.." It was puzzling but to some degree, it made sense.. How many sparkling eyes, smiles, bottle labels, dimples, unique granules, crystals, quirks,etc. had I overlooked? Fiending for a reprieve, desperate to abuse. Fuck the details for that's where the devil lays in wait. right? Who gives a fuck what this looks like? It serves no purpose to me until the sensations take hold and I can escape. Succumb.

Perception. A Disease of Perception. Now that's a real bitch. I hear so many stories and see so many documentaries touting the power of the mind and preaching the secret of outlook. Why must my ball tend to read "OUTLOOK NOT SO GOOD?" The glass is half full! I had a friend with this illness or this problem but look how he/she triumphed with his/her faith, outlook, perspective! BUT WHAT OF THE MAN WHO"S PERCEPTION IS ROTTED? Now, he's really fucked. 

The above paragraph serves as an example in and of itself. Because in fact its almost backwards. I can acknowledge the point it makes but perception can be changed. Its not so bad after all. I have the power to change it. To be willing. To continually fight for sanity. TO TRY AND STOP BEING SO MELODRAMATIC! to try to stop beating my self up.  And so the defects march on.