Hey.
I'm doing some songwriting behind the scenes right now, so I'm gonna use the next month or so to revisit older songs - almost all of them odes - and talk about how they came to be written.
Here's Butterfly. It's the first song of my own that I ever finished. I started out as a fair enough singer, aspiring writer, and one terrible guitarist. Roommates would suffer as I plunked one or two strings over and over, pining over some crush or another. They were always named Heather, too. A whole flock of Heathers - Heather with the pixie brown haircut and the sexy Boston accent who abbreviated EVERYTHING... even her "vag". This was 1998, way before that little diction tic came into vogue. Or Heather, the alto in a college a capella group who had sad eyes and a welcoming grin. Or Heather the RA, who smelled like jasmine and cactus blossoms. All those Heathers....
So, I finished no songs on my own in college. Collaborated on a bunch of music with a ragged, iconoclastic guy named Andy Ben. I'd sing and write lyrics, he'd strum. At first, the goal was to help him score with this adorable Japanese model who studied theatre with us, but when that didn't pan out, we just wrote songs to write them. Or, we'd have crazy adventures all over Los Angeles. Ones that started that with him showing up unannounced in my apartment and ended at a protest rally dodging broken glass and riot cops deep in the heart of Compton.
I finished college with no prospects. I was chubby and no grad school wanted me for their theatre programs. Twelve dollars in my bank account. Knew I had to head back home for a spell. And it broke me. To realize that I wasn't able to continue doing theatre and music and writing for a while until , as Andy once said while high, "I cleaned my spaceship" . Normally, I intuit that odd phrase to mean tidying up my place. But I felt it resonated so clearly with this point in time - finding survival work, saving up, and getting out of Modesto, CA for good. Make my own autonomy.
So, while I was back home for seven months, I lived in a small, bare white room with my family. For the first few months, I did three things: taught myself to juggle, I listened to Phillip Glass constantly, and I kept playing terribly at guitar. Those arpeggios felt so welcome - a drone of music that I listened to for hours on end. And somewhere, amidst this crazy behavior, I stumbled upon a series of notes which haunted me. I kept playing them again and again, staring at the wall until my fingers bled. And I wrote this song.
21 years old.
When it was finished, I played it for my father. He nodded, and in his slow, sure way, he drawled, "Well, son, that sure is pretty. But it'll never be on the radio" He was right. No offense. It's not poppy like a lot of my modern work. Verse, bridge, chorus, wash, repeat. It was meandering, dream-like. It sounded like a vulnerable, scared animal. Which I was.
Plus, as I wrote it, I thought about the women who always strike my heart. I distrust constantly smiling women or obscenely attractive women at first. It's a prejudice of mine. But, if I see someone or in time get to know someone beyond the smooth pallor of their skin or the glint of their toothy smile and I see a real, strong woman who has been slapped hard and often by this ramshackle life, and has triumphed over such an ordeal, I love them. My heart trembles. I want to share time with them.
And, this habit of mine has had some side effects. Sometimes I try to over help them, or end up accidentally being paternalistic. Sometimes they push away and don't fancy me back. Sometimes they turn out to have a serious shoplifting habit. No two people are the same.
Here's the song and the lyrics:
Wicked little thing
your face, a box of questions
I want to
I want to
wrestle you down
and give you a name
I want to
I want to
beg let me in til you got no room
but that would seem immature
I don't want to seem
immature
lord I'm always so goddamn immature
you too
you look battered up
knuckled down
looking over your shoulder
you're just tuckered out
caving in
fighting time
you're just growing old
growing cold
flailing quietly
you're just worn out space
human race let you down
you wicked little thing
so why i am i still chasing you
you just flitter away
flitter away
i have no weapons
yet you look at me like I'd hurt you
you think you're still the girl you see
some bloated underestimated bunch of skin
nothing safe but dreams you dream
you hurt
because you're beautiful
you hurt because you're beautiful
you are so beautiful
you hurt so much
listen to me
you have grown
you have grown
you have grown
you are lovely
the jig is up
you butterfly
Tuesday, February 28, 2012
Wednesday, February 1, 2012
One year ago - what I've learned, and where I need to go from here
Hey.
I remember one year ago today waking up to a wild, unsettling batch of turbulence. The plane was shaking, passengers started screaming, and I was convinced we were going to crash. I'd given up a lot of my old life, sold or thrown away so many long-held possessions, and pointed myself east.
Why? Why did I do that?
I was in a rut, basically. Wasn't challenging myself or really applying myself towards serious artistic endeavors. I was shutting off, disappointed in my lack of growth. And, I don't think California's ever liked me. I've grown up strange all my life, and I knew , in the marrow of my bones that New York held more life, more possibilities. Heck, maybe even an absurd kind of love.
Back to the plane. I hadn't slept for over 29 hours, and had already changed planes twice. Sat down, and didn't even remember buckling my safety belt. Awoke to the rancor and the panic of the crowd. And the sick, buckling skips of the aircraft. I was sure death was near. And in an odd way, I was sort of glad. I altered my breathing, deliberately induced a calmer heart rate, and waited patiently for the end.
But the plane was fine. And I arrived in New York City just a little after 10:30am on February 1st, 2011.
What a year. Let's break it down into three parts: What I've done, what I've learned, and what I need to do next year.
WHAT I'VE DONE
Performed in 5 different productions this year - a lot more than I've done consecutively in a while. It's a town where there's work to be had, and I've enjoyed the variety of each experience.
Lost 30 pounds - selling a car and walking everywhere will do that. Also, I've been eating mildly better. I didn't even know I'd lost weight until a doctor's visit proved otherwise. God help me if I still see pictures of myself from the back, though - sheesh. It's like watching a sad elephant shuffle.
Wrote 7 new original songs this year - which really surprised me. They're all on this site and are each varying levels of quality, but I can see myself using these new songs to cope, to grow, to narrate the changes I'm making. Once I shore up cash for a new guitar, you better believe I'll be taking these little ditties and some older songs of mine to the streets! Probably won't sing the Vagina Song on the subway, though...
Getting paid on a regular basis to act and sing - it's not a lot of money, but it validates me. It is the essential nature of being a professional in a field. Beyond the dry aesthetics of theory and academic art. Sure, in a perfect world the acting you're paid to do is just as skillful as the acting you do for free, but for now, just getting paid is a minor miracle.
Created a solid draft of my one man show: Ghost on a Stick. Now, to edit further and work to get it workshopped and performed before this time next year.
WHAT I'VE LEARNED
NY actors and creative people are kinder - they just are. Something about dealing with such a harsh environment and coupling that with sharing transit with actors fosters kindness and respect. Sure, there's a fair share of jerks and self-absorbed types, but most are just as scared and hungry as you and want to reach out and help.
You can never really clean a hardwood floor. You just can't. You can sweep and mop and get on your hands and knees with a scouring pad and punish the ground, but it will never be clean. That's okay. A little dirt's part of life.
I will never be able to see every new play or eat at every new restaurant - so it's okay to have gaps.
People sure love to see me nude or near nude in plays/musicals - whether it's pantless as the Porter in Macbeth or as Pete in the new play Home, or my ass cracking sticking out for the cabaret, I've earned a following for taking off clothes for comic effect.
Working from home is wonderful and strange.
Don't read THE ROAD on the subway unless you want strangers to ask why you're sobbing openly.
There is a mayor of my neighborhood, and he is my brother's three legged poodle, Peter.
Despite all the slices I've had, I still go crazy for a Di Fara slice. Health code violations and all.
My brother is a complicated and charming guy, and moving here has really given me a chance to spend more time with him. I love him to pieces, and I'm ever so proud of his heart and talents.
Even in this modern age, cash rules everything. So few non-chain stores take plastic. I end up loading up at the ATM and stockpiling it like an old-timey prospector, under the mattress.
I owe the comedian Paul F Tompkins so much for my creative sanity this year in NY. At my darkest, he'd always have some podcast or album I'd listen to and become galvanized by the sheer multitudes of his playful, passionate creative output.
GOALS
1)Lose 30 more pounds - getting to 270 was a snap. Now, it's time to drop to 240. I'll sleep better, I'll have less aches and pains, and get a wider variety of roles that way.
2)Give myself more - I've always had a hard time doing things for just me. For example, it's really tough for me to see plays or try new restaurants by myself. Just seems sad. But screw that. I deserve new experiences.
3)Invest in a daily and diverse analysis of acting opportunities in NYC - more research. Not just Playbill, or Actor's Access or Backstage. Really pore over the trades and get to know just how people get cast in theatre, film and tv in this city. Who does what, and who do I know involved in new projects.
Now, if you'll excuse me, I'm going on a date!
Thanks to the following people for helping me this year:
Jeric Jones and Stephanie Girard
Mom and Dad
Jelina Seibert
Jennifer Moraca
Jessica Larson
Josh Walters
Tess Suchoff
Bobby Lux
Joe Hogan
Winnie Lok
Shannon Fillion
Michael Irish
Garrett Blair
Bekki Doster
Mark Kinch
Dave Benger
Carole Taylor
Charlie Grosso
Mark Harborth
Zach Stasz
Ginger Reiter
I remember one year ago today waking up to a wild, unsettling batch of turbulence. The plane was shaking, passengers started screaming, and I was convinced we were going to crash. I'd given up a lot of my old life, sold or thrown away so many long-held possessions, and pointed myself east.
Why? Why did I do that?
I was in a rut, basically. Wasn't challenging myself or really applying myself towards serious artistic endeavors. I was shutting off, disappointed in my lack of growth. And, I don't think California's ever liked me. I've grown up strange all my life, and I knew , in the marrow of my bones that New York held more life, more possibilities. Heck, maybe even an absurd kind of love.
Back to the plane. I hadn't slept for over 29 hours, and had already changed planes twice. Sat down, and didn't even remember buckling my safety belt. Awoke to the rancor and the panic of the crowd. And the sick, buckling skips of the aircraft. I was sure death was near. And in an odd way, I was sort of glad. I altered my breathing, deliberately induced a calmer heart rate, and waited patiently for the end.
But the plane was fine. And I arrived in New York City just a little after 10:30am on February 1st, 2011.
What a year. Let's break it down into three parts: What I've done, what I've learned, and what I need to do next year.
WHAT I'VE DONE
Performed in 5 different productions this year - a lot more than I've done consecutively in a while. It's a town where there's work to be had, and I've enjoyed the variety of each experience.
Lost 30 pounds - selling a car and walking everywhere will do that. Also, I've been eating mildly better. I didn't even know I'd lost weight until a doctor's visit proved otherwise. God help me if I still see pictures of myself from the back, though - sheesh. It's like watching a sad elephant shuffle.
Wrote 7 new original songs this year - which really surprised me. They're all on this site and are each varying levels of quality, but I can see myself using these new songs to cope, to grow, to narrate the changes I'm making. Once I shore up cash for a new guitar, you better believe I'll be taking these little ditties and some older songs of mine to the streets! Probably won't sing the Vagina Song on the subway, though...
Getting paid on a regular basis to act and sing - it's not a lot of money, but it validates me. It is the essential nature of being a professional in a field. Beyond the dry aesthetics of theory and academic art. Sure, in a perfect world the acting you're paid to do is just as skillful as the acting you do for free, but for now, just getting paid is a minor miracle.
Created a solid draft of my one man show: Ghost on a Stick. Now, to edit further and work to get it workshopped and performed before this time next year.
WHAT I'VE LEARNED
NY actors and creative people are kinder - they just are. Something about dealing with such a harsh environment and coupling that with sharing transit with actors fosters kindness and respect. Sure, there's a fair share of jerks and self-absorbed types, but most are just as scared and hungry as you and want to reach out and help.
You can never really clean a hardwood floor. You just can't. You can sweep and mop and get on your hands and knees with a scouring pad and punish the ground, but it will never be clean. That's okay. A little dirt's part of life.
I will never be able to see every new play or eat at every new restaurant - so it's okay to have gaps.
People sure love to see me nude or near nude in plays/musicals - whether it's pantless as the Porter in Macbeth or as Pete in the new play Home, or my ass cracking sticking out for the cabaret, I've earned a following for taking off clothes for comic effect.
Working from home is wonderful and strange.
Don't read THE ROAD on the subway unless you want strangers to ask why you're sobbing openly.
There is a mayor of my neighborhood, and he is my brother's three legged poodle, Peter.
Despite all the slices I've had, I still go crazy for a Di Fara slice. Health code violations and all.
My brother is a complicated and charming guy, and moving here has really given me a chance to spend more time with him. I love him to pieces, and I'm ever so proud of his heart and talents.
Even in this modern age, cash rules everything. So few non-chain stores take plastic. I end up loading up at the ATM and stockpiling it like an old-timey prospector, under the mattress.
I owe the comedian Paul F Tompkins so much for my creative sanity this year in NY. At my darkest, he'd always have some podcast or album I'd listen to and become galvanized by the sheer multitudes of his playful, passionate creative output.
GOALS
1)Lose 30 more pounds - getting to 270 was a snap. Now, it's time to drop to 240. I'll sleep better, I'll have less aches and pains, and get a wider variety of roles that way.
2)Give myself more - I've always had a hard time doing things for just me. For example, it's really tough for me to see plays or try new restaurants by myself. Just seems sad. But screw that. I deserve new experiences.
3)Invest in a daily and diverse analysis of acting opportunities in NYC - more research. Not just Playbill, or Actor's Access or Backstage. Really pore over the trades and get to know just how people get cast in theatre, film and tv in this city. Who does what, and who do I know involved in new projects.
Now, if you'll excuse me, I'm going on a date!
Thanks to the following people for helping me this year:
Jeric Jones and Stephanie Girard
Mom and Dad
Jelina Seibert
Jennifer Moraca
Jessica Larson
Josh Walters
Tess Suchoff
Bobby Lux
Joe Hogan
Winnie Lok
Shannon Fillion
Michael Irish
Garrett Blair
Bekki Doster
Mark Kinch
Dave Benger
Carole Taylor
Charlie Grosso
Mark Harborth
Zach Stasz
Ginger Reiter
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