Be Absolute for Death

I haven't blogged in quite awhile.  An entire production happened.  I learned a lot in these last few months, none of which was documented, and I probably would have figured out a lot of shit earlier had I been able to blog, and very likely would have solved some problems that I never figured out if I could.

But, no crying over lost blogs.  I instinctively knew that when I blogged the last time for "Bloody Poetry," that I would have trouble writing again.  I didn't know why at the time, but I figured it out.  See, my best friend in the world since I was 13 died.  I was devastated.  What I realized was that Keith was my implied audience.  (even though he was rarely one of my four loyal blog readers).  The thing is, I developed my writing style by writing him 20 page letters from the time we were 18 until the internet ruined the written word.  There was no event in my life that wasn't dutifully written down for him.  Nor in his for me.  Keith was my writing muse.  He was a brilliant writer and human (and painter...) and when he went off to college we started writing letters to one another.  And I wanted to impress, entertain, and enlighten him.  So, I developed this style of writing that has become how I write these blogs.  Hopefully funny, self-deprecating, and informative.  But also my true heart flowing out onto the page without the pesky brain getting in the way.  The deepest truths. 

And when he died...my muse...my audience...my heart was gone.

So for these past few months, I've been a husk.  Going through the motions.  Trying to still create art, but missing something.  Like a runner who lost a leg.

When Jack reached out to me to play Duke Vincentio, Keith was still alive, although we knew it was terminal.  We thought he had maybe a year.  A week later, we thought it would be six months.  A few days later, we found out that he had days.  Fuck cancer!  He died while I was still doing "Bloody Poetry."  And as I stumbled through those next few weeks and started rehearsing "Measure for Measure," I thought doing a play would be good for me.  But when I learned that his wake would interfere with one of our performance weekends, I had to drop out.

I've missed a lot of big events in people's lives.  So many weddings, funerals, graduations, birthdays, etc.  But Keith's wake was an event that I couldn't miss.  No more that I could miss my own.  (That's a very good line, which Keith would appreciate if he could...and a very Vincentio thing to say).  I dropped out.  Jack was so kind and generous to me.  As my artistic father he (as he has so often done) advised and comforted me, but also implored me to not let this destroy me.  He told me to look to my kids and be there for them.  And my friend, Jade, called me one day and told me not to get fat and depressed (which was also very effective, because after my dad died, I did both).  I have really good people in my life because of The New American Theatre.  Anyway, they moved on and cast another actor.  Which was a relief.  Because I was fucking empty.  But life is funny.    That guy got a big gig at a big theatre and had to drop out.  And Jack called back.  He offered to cancel those shows that conflicted with Keith's wake if I did the show.  My choices were to live in my sorrow and wallow or fucking live in art and try to overcome.  The choice was clear.  Also, there is very little I wouldn't do for Jack.  (I used to think there was nothing, but Keith's wake taught me that there are maybe a couple of things).

And so I was back.  A week behind.  With a huge role to learn.  Not just a huge role, but a part well outside my comfort zone.  A character so complex that scholars are baffled by his reasons. 

Fortunately, I was working with Jack.  And with one of the loveliest groups of people I have ever had the pleasure to share a stage with.  (Ok...with whom I have shared a stage...gah).  But given the demands of this part and the limited time, I had no time for wallowing...or being stupid, fat and drunk.  (I'm really good at being all of those things).  And so I dove in. 

I'm so glad I did. 

I thought I would get some kind of closure at Keith's wake.  But I didn't.  I mean, I got drunk, cried, and told stories, so I feel like I did the wake correctly, but I wasn't any closer to acceptance than when I first learned he was sick.  And I couldn't write.  It felt like a betrayal to him.  So I was stuck. 

We opened the week before his wake.  And people responded positively, but I hadn't solved the role at that point.  I'm a good actor and my "toolbox" is filled with tools to make it seem like a performance is legit when it isn't.  (This isn't a brag.  It's actually a fault I know exists in my work.  I'm so afraid of failure that I can BS my way to praise even when it isn't deserved).  But I was still empty.  We came back, and I kept working on it.  It didn't come easily.  That's a sign that you aren't doing the thing well).  And I realized that this blog has become a part of my process.  And being unable to write was troubling. 

<Here's a tangent--When I write these blogs, I don't actually know what I've written until I read them the next day.  They often surprise me.  Sometimes embarrass me.  And occasionally upset people that I would never mean to upset.>

There is a speech in the play where I am convincing Claudio to be prepared for death.  It is some of the best writing that has ever been put on paper.  It is also a beast of a monologue.  There is no real flow to it.  (No markers leading from one thought to another.)  In ordinary circumstances, it would have been brutal, but here I was trying to deal with the death of a friend who died way too young on top of that...

I struggled.

But working my way through that speech has actually led me to acceptance.  Life is a fucking shit show, and we act horribly so often that none of us get out clean.  Keith would fully support that.  And he was so present with me during this that I was able to let go...a little bit.  I miss him every day, and can't imagine that there will come a time that I don't, but I am actually able to keep going and pursue my life now. 

Anyway, we closed tonight, so this blog is a little late to help me understand the play or give me great epiphanies as to how to proceed.  But here I am writing again for the first time in a long time.  I feel like I finally understood the Duke...it was a tough journey, but Jack gave me a wonderful note last night which unlocked it for me.  (My subconscious was moving toward it through the process anyway).  But last night he offered me the idea of Vincentio as the classic "trickster" character in plays and it just clicked.  It all became so much easier and much more joyful.  This is one of those plays that I wish I could do for months.  I feel like now I'm ready for it...as it ends. 

This has been special for so many reasons.  Jack.  The cast and crew.  The enormity of it.  The failure.  The final understanding of it.  And because Keith was present with me throughout it.