02 December 2005

fame!* (part 2)

right. so i'm supposed to pick up here and finish talking about seeing john lloyd young after jersery boys, and meditate (by writing about it) on fame.

the thing is, though this was all rushing through my head walking to the subway two nights ago, now it seems not so huge. waiting outside stage doors makes me uneasy, i say the word fan with derision, and after an unexceptional conversation with mr. young, i walked to the subway.

it was as i walked to the subway, as i walked away from the theatre, that... i don't know what happened, exactly. i felt vaguely frustrated, vaguely let-down - john, of course, was visibly ready to go home, after an exhausting two-show day, bless his falsetto - but just sort of unfulfilled, left with some vague, unnamed, unfulfilled expectations.

and it's only this morning, revisiting all that, fitting it with words, that i'm realizing how little fame and broadway actually had to do with it. (which makes me feel better, because being upset and flustered because of jly's fame would be... sad. for me. the texan ladies at the stagedoor can love him all they want. but i'm a theatre professional. or at least vaguely supposed to be a grownup.)

what actually was going on was i had a very brief conversation, a conversation i'd been mulling over and not-quite-planning all day, and then it happened. and nothing came out as i meant to say it, and it was all a little weird, and then it was over, fast. and all the weirdness stewing as i walked to the subway was just the left-over... stuff. i was composed and trying very hard to express myself, and then it was done. but i was still left with... well, whatever i was left with.

none of that really makes sense, and i'm not expressing this very well. i think maybe the right word, or a word that has something to do with this, is "residual." for what it's worth.

but i did say i'd finish this story, and so now i did. i hope you're happy, all two of you who read this, because i'm laying myself, my poorly-expressing-myself self, on the line for you.

that all sounds more depressive and bitter than i mean it to. umm... hey, it's supposed to snow this weekend. rock on. and flea at one good thing potty-trained her kids. so yay for that, too.


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*for the record, i'm completely incapable of typing the word 'fame,' especially with an exclamation point, without flashing back to the dance party end of 'six characters.' and this slightly disturbs me, because although i loved that show, that specific memory is not exactly a happy place.

1 comment:

anna said...

you cited flea's children's potty habits on your blog. and linked to her. this gives you almost enough points to make up for "residual." huh??

also redemptive is hearing that someone else has "fame" related flashbacks to that play. psycho fucking play.

love!

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