A while

I’ve written two blogs in the last week, neither of which were posted. And not for the reasons you might suspect. They were not posted because I found them either boring or offensive to me, the irony being that normally I’m either boring or offensive to other people and I don’t bother to edit myself then.

Post one: Long diatribe about dealing with political hostilities in America today, about how we have got to find a way to be loving and respectful. We’re basically in a civil war in the US, brother against brother stuff, and someone is going to be elected president in November and when that happens we have to find a way to deal with it. Ya-fucking-awn.

Post two: I drag myself over the coals for a missed opportunity from 1991 when I could have spent six months with a friend in Africa making a difference and instead I stayed here and learned how to tapdance. That friend died in 1993, and I didn’t speak to him for the almost two years after I turned down his offer. Boo-fucking-hoo. I’ll rake myself over the coals in the privacy of my own bedroom, thank you, you really don’t want to see it.

Here are some other things I can’t write about fully.

One: either you think our country has made several collosal mistakes over the last three years, or you think that to do anything other than what we’ve done would have been a collosal mistake. We have a war and a debt, we have a Supreme Court seat (or three) and we have redefined our civil liberties and the phrases “Clear Skies” and “Healthy Forest”. If you’re undecided, then spend thirty seconds not being a jack-ass contrarian and make a decision, you douche.

Two: I’m not the perfect actor for every single show, I know that. But when you are producing theater at a certain level, it’s a pretty gutsy move not to cast me. In the world of non-professional theater, it’s hard to find a professional actor my age, with my abilities. I’m not saying you make a mistake when you don’t hire me, I’m saying you are being really brave in trying to make a play on this level without me.

Three: I really enjoy writing for the theater, I really enjoy producing for the theater, and I really enjoy acting in the theater. I also like being with my friends and golf. Almost everything else is a pain in the ass.

Four: Of my family, I’m all that’s left in New York. And that is sometimes lonely. I hate the phone, I really, really fucking hate, more than I can describe, hate the phone. I hate it when it rings, I hate calling people on it, I hate voice mail, I hate everything about it. It feels masturbatory and intrusive and indulgent and… and it’s just uncomfortable holding a goddam phone at my head so I can hear precious words from my sister or dad or friends in LA when I just fucking wish they would move the hell back to New York and I could make a meal and have a glass of mother fucking wine with them instead of listening to the bells and whistles and static and breaking up that happens at the other end.

And why the hell should I stop what I’m doing just to answer the phone? God. I miss everyone, all the time. Sitting at home working on music, I always wish my mom and Mac and Jordana were here. But the phone rings and for the first thirty seconds I’m just sitting there thinking, “this is *nothing* like having people here. This is… this is exactly like having the disembodied voice of someone I *wish* was here being piped through a tiny speaker that makes their voice sound like it’s coming from Marvin the Android (especially when it’s my mom and she’s depressed).” I always calm down and enjoy the conversation after about ten seconds, but I also feel like I’m blowing a bubble, like I have to keep exhaling to make this thing keep happening…

Okay, maybe that thing I can talk about a little.

The point is, right now I’m actually getting stuff done and the things I’m worried about are so much larger than I can express that I feel a bit of shame keeping a blog. Six thousand people are dying a week in the Sudan, and I wrote a blog about how it made me feel, then I punched myself in the nose and deleted it. I didn’t go to Africa when I could have, I’m not going now, I chose to be a fucking actor, so, really, any struggle (however small) is a struggle I have earned by self indulgence and apathy.

That being said, read up on Darfur. Google search “Sudan, Darfur, Chad”, except without the quotes, and read about what is going on. North Korea, Iran, Afghanistan, Pakistan, etc. are all “threats” to the US, but in Sudan, the Muslim government is killing black people because they are black, and two million more will die unless the world does something about it.

And I hate talking on the phone. That’s my opinion on the phone. I hate my cell phone.