I've been thinking - for weeks now, according to the date of my last entry...although it seemed like days - that I've got to really make some time and catch up on this blog. I've been thinking of the great Josh Kornbluth quote from Haiku Tunnel, when he, as a super-temp secretary, gets behind and tries to quit, but the lawyer he works for recognizes competence when he sees it and doesn't allow it. Instead, he offers a bit of advice, spoken twice in a unhurried and reassuring semi-monotone, accompanied by hand gestures which I can't do justice to here: "Go back to your desk. Settle down. Focus. And catch up." The "catch up" is said quickly, with an encouraging lilt as the boss gives a double "thumbs up" over his shoulders. This after Josh's character confesses that he's a terrible employee, from making excessive personal calls to admitting he's attracted to the boss's daughter (based on the family picture on the desk). But Josh is forgiven.
In the same way, I hope I am forgiven, and I ask this as much of myself as anyone. When I was younger, I took certain things for granted, and one of them was that I would not suffer under Catholic guilt like my mother did, and like almost all Catholics do. I managed to escape a lot of guilt, but many people I know DO suffer under it, and it's a terribly debilitating umbrella to dwell under. Even those of us who appear confident and self-possessed could use a little gentleness when dealing with ourselves - and, it goes almost without saying, that we could all use a little more gentleness with each other. So, I do apologize.
The worst part of it is, I can't get to much now. It's been a busy time for me, and I've also had some laptop issues, which slows things down. It's funny how much our ability to connect to the Internet (do we still capitalize that?) and/or use a word processing software program can affect our ability to write. When I was a kid, we used paper and pens, or, if feeling sophisticated, a typewriter. Later on came electric typewriters - I mean those weird hybrid computer/typewriters, word processors - and then, finally, the PC. I immediately saw the advantage, even though I experienced one of those "oh shit, I didn't save / backup" moments early on: a one-act play I worked on all through the night was essentially lost when I knocked a notebook off the desk, which landed on its end, flipped over, hit the "power" button on the surge strip, and turned off the computer. This was before auto-recovery. I use the computers, sure, but I still do a lot of writing by hand, and wrote my first novel(la) mostly on a 1930's Smith Corona. My point is, I have been writing, a lot. Just not here in cyberland.
In the meantime, I saw another few Jews in the entertainment business live on stage: an SNL reunion, sponsored by SF Sketchfest, which included Laraine Newman (granddaughter of a Jewish cattle rancher from Arizona, Wikipedia says); Tom Davis, writer and other half of "Franken and Davis" comedy due (and yes, that would be now-Senator Al Franken), who is very Jewish; and Dan Aykroyd, who is supposedly French Canadian but I think is secretly Jewish (you can't trust Wikipedia). There was also Don Novello, aka Father Guido Sarducci - not Jewish, naturally, but Italian, which is close.
They were all quite impressive - everyone I have seen recently. I find that most of the time when I go to some live performance, it's worth it. Worth the effort, the time, the money. Wallace Shawn was kind of pricey, and the SNL folks weren't cheap either but I went for the shittier seats there. Josh Kornbluth was free but it was technically a class on the Torah and I think you aren't supposed to charge for that - AND you had to participate in it yourself.
However, I like the interaction part. It's occurring to me that I will never get a chance to scribe about all the different interesting moments recently, so I should just freely pepper as I go to make any point I'm headed towards, in this case: interaction with the performers. It's one of my favorite things about art - becoming involved in it. I like art installations where the visitors mulling about cast shadows or make vibrations or something that changes the piece - interactive art? What is it called? It's fun when performance art does that too - audience participation. Doesn't everyone, like me, secretly want to be called up on stage? The only thing more fun that watching performances is to be spontaneously and safely performing yourself - like the time I was pulled up on stage during a comedic condensed Hamlet to do Ophelia's scream.
Even something as small as being one of the audience members that asked a question - I saw Spalding Gray live at Stanford once in a performance during which he basically just stood up there and answered audience questions, but he did craft it a bit by having people write questions out on index cards about 30 minutes prior. He selected some, arranged them and then delivered a monologue. I'm sure many of us were kind of half-waiting to see if our question was going to pop up, and I'll admit it was very gratifying when mine did ("If you were a women, what do you think would be the best parts of that?" His answer? "Sex and birth.").
I was even kind of happy I got to ask Steven Colbert a question when I saw The Colbert Report in New York - I asked him about the ukulele on his shelf, intersted, as I was there for the New York Ukulele Festival. "Isn't everyone?" he joked, gesturing to the audience. We got a laugh, him for being so quick-witted and me for being the ukulele-fest-attending mark. I mean, I kind of set him up; this was a couple of years ago, when the uke wasn't quite as cool as it is now.
The recent slate of meeting Jewish entertainers had some interactions. The SNL folks had no idea I existed, and Josh Kornbluth didn't know me but he is my friend on Facebook and I did spend a while talking to a rabbi friend of his. Wallace Shawn I talked to afterwards - booksigning - and I'd actually met him before. But the Garry Shandling event - I think I was part of that one. Garry and his long-time writing partner, Alan, could not stop talking, making jokes, being hilarious. The moderator, Zach Braff, had to keep asserting himself to even get a question or two in, let alone get them to answer. "Hey, I am in charge here" he had to say on more than one occasion.
Because of this, it so happened that only four people were able to ask questions - usually, there are enough that, if you asked a question, you don't think, at the end of the night, that anyone will remember it. But there were so few questions this time, it was a significant part of the evening. I had a question I really wanted to ask - not just one of those "I thought of something to ask in the moment, thank God, that is kind of cool" but an actual question I wanted to know the answer to. I'll get to that in a moment, but just getting it out was difficult. The person before me had been standing right at the edge of the stage, where one of the mics was, and Garry pretended to be (or was?) taken aback, and said, "Too close!" as if his personal space was violated. So when I took the mic - I was in the same spot - I said "I'm sorry if I am too close." And Garry said, you are, back up. Which I did, and then he said, no that's too far, come closer. No, back up now. You see where we're headed, the old vaudeville routine. I stopped after the second step forward, because I was laughing too hard, as was everyone (there was a little "you had to be there" quality, trust me). I was certainly part of the show.
My question, incidentally, requires a little bit of explanation. It was about how the first time I really remembered laughing, as an adult - the first time I saw and "got" irony, the first time I heard something funny that wasn't also a little bit stupid. It was some joke Garry Shandling made when he was guest-hosting The Tonight Show, which my mother watched; I must have been about 12 or 13? I don't even remember the joke but I remember rolling on the floor, my cheeks and sides sore, and my mother asking me if I was alright because I was hysterical. It made an incredible impression on me, and - I didn't realize, really, until seeing him live that night - it also, like, imprinted me with a love of Jewish humor. I think maybe I think Jewish comedic entertainers and artists are funny because Garry Shandling was the very first person I ever found really, really funny. I didn't tell Garry the whole story; my question was something along the line of "Garry, I remember some joke you made when guest hosting as being the first thing I really found funny as an adult, and what was the first thing you all found really funny?"
It was hard enough to get that in, by the way - the joke machine never paused, so you really had to be aggressive to get in your question. Afterwards: dead silence, for the first and only time that evening. They were all thinking. Finally, Zach, the young hip (as opposed to old crotchety) Jew, said, "I'll answer, as I think I'm closer to that moment." I can't remember his answer, because I was distracted by his gaze - he was only a few feet from me (Garry and Alan were father back on stage, I couldn't really see them) and when he turned his clear blue eyes on me to answer....well, I'll admit, he's pretty cute and was somewhat magnetic, up close. But Garry and Alan's answer I do remember, because it was the same, and close to my own heart: Woody Allen. It's true. I saw Sleeper as a kid and it really stuck with me, even though it was years before I discovered Woody Allen, and more years before I realized Sleeper was related to Woody Allen at all.
At any rate, there's more stories to tell about famespotting and keeping your personal authenticity in the face of fame, but I think I did pretty good with Garry Shandling. And I got to make a few hundred people packed into the historic Castro Theater laugh - well, like Stephen Colbert, I guess I was the straight man, not the comic, but hey, you need both to make a laugh.
In the same way, I hope I am forgiven, and I ask this as much of myself as anyone. When I was younger, I took certain things for granted, and one of them was that I would not suffer under Catholic guilt like my mother did, and like almost all Catholics do. I managed to escape a lot of guilt, but many people I know DO suffer under it, and it's a terribly debilitating umbrella to dwell under. Even those of us who appear confident and self-possessed could use a little gentleness when dealing with ourselves - and, it goes almost without saying, that we could all use a little more gentleness with each other. So, I do apologize.
The worst part of it is, I can't get to much now. It's been a busy time for me, and I've also had some laptop issues, which slows things down. It's funny how much our ability to connect to the Internet (do we still capitalize that?) and/or use a word processing software program can affect our ability to write. When I was a kid, we used paper and pens, or, if feeling sophisticated, a typewriter. Later on came electric typewriters - I mean those weird hybrid computer/typewriters, word processors - and then, finally, the PC. I immediately saw the advantage, even though I experienced one of those "oh shit, I didn't save / backup" moments early on: a one-act play I worked on all through the night was essentially lost when I knocked a notebook off the desk, which landed on its end, flipped over, hit the "power" button on the surge strip, and turned off the computer. This was before auto-recovery. I use the computers, sure, but I still do a lot of writing by hand, and wrote my first novel(la) mostly on a 1930's Smith Corona. My point is, I have been writing, a lot. Just not here in cyberland.
In the meantime, I saw another few Jews in the entertainment business live on stage: an SNL reunion, sponsored by SF Sketchfest, which included Laraine Newman (granddaughter of a Jewish cattle rancher from Arizona, Wikipedia says); Tom Davis, writer and other half of "Franken and Davis" comedy due (and yes, that would be now-Senator Al Franken), who is very Jewish; and Dan Aykroyd, who is supposedly French Canadian but I think is secretly Jewish (you can't trust Wikipedia). There was also Don Novello, aka Father Guido Sarducci - not Jewish, naturally, but Italian, which is close.
They were all quite impressive - everyone I have seen recently. I find that most of the time when I go to some live performance, it's worth it. Worth the effort, the time, the money. Wallace Shawn was kind of pricey, and the SNL folks weren't cheap either but I went for the shittier seats there. Josh Kornbluth was free but it was technically a class on the Torah and I think you aren't supposed to charge for that - AND you had to participate in it yourself.
However, I like the interaction part. It's occurring to me that I will never get a chance to scribe about all the different interesting moments recently, so I should just freely pepper as I go to make any point I'm headed towards, in this case: interaction with the performers. It's one of my favorite things about art - becoming involved in it. I like art installations where the visitors mulling about cast shadows or make vibrations or something that changes the piece - interactive art? What is it called? It's fun when performance art does that too - audience participation. Doesn't everyone, like me, secretly want to be called up on stage? The only thing more fun that watching performances is to be spontaneously and safely performing yourself - like the time I was pulled up on stage during a comedic condensed Hamlet to do Ophelia's scream.
Even something as small as being one of the audience members that asked a question - I saw Spalding Gray live at Stanford once in a performance during which he basically just stood up there and answered audience questions, but he did craft it a bit by having people write questions out on index cards about 30 minutes prior. He selected some, arranged them and then delivered a monologue. I'm sure many of us were kind of half-waiting to see if our question was going to pop up, and I'll admit it was very gratifying when mine did ("If you were a women, what do you think would be the best parts of that?" His answer? "Sex and birth.").
I was even kind of happy I got to ask Steven Colbert a question when I saw The Colbert Report in New York - I asked him about the ukulele on his shelf, intersted, as I was there for the New York Ukulele Festival. "Isn't everyone?" he joked, gesturing to the audience. We got a laugh, him for being so quick-witted and me for being the ukulele-fest-attending mark. I mean, I kind of set him up; this was a couple of years ago, when the uke wasn't quite as cool as it is now.
The recent slate of meeting Jewish entertainers had some interactions. The SNL folks had no idea I existed, and Josh Kornbluth didn't know me but he is my friend on Facebook and I did spend a while talking to a rabbi friend of his. Wallace Shawn I talked to afterwards - booksigning - and I'd actually met him before. But the Garry Shandling event - I think I was part of that one. Garry and his long-time writing partner, Alan, could not stop talking, making jokes, being hilarious. The moderator, Zach Braff, had to keep asserting himself to even get a question or two in, let alone get them to answer. "Hey, I am in charge here" he had to say on more than one occasion.
Because of this, it so happened that only four people were able to ask questions - usually, there are enough that, if you asked a question, you don't think, at the end of the night, that anyone will remember it. But there were so few questions this time, it was a significant part of the evening. I had a question I really wanted to ask - not just one of those "I thought of something to ask in the moment, thank God, that is kind of cool" but an actual question I wanted to know the answer to. I'll get to that in a moment, but just getting it out was difficult. The person before me had been standing right at the edge of the stage, where one of the mics was, and Garry pretended to be (or was?) taken aback, and said, "Too close!" as if his personal space was violated. So when I took the mic - I was in the same spot - I said "I'm sorry if I am too close." And Garry said, you are, back up. Which I did, and then he said, no that's too far, come closer. No, back up now. You see where we're headed, the old vaudeville routine. I stopped after the second step forward, because I was laughing too hard, as was everyone (there was a little "you had to be there" quality, trust me). I was certainly part of the show.
My question, incidentally, requires a little bit of explanation. It was about how the first time I really remembered laughing, as an adult - the first time I saw and "got" irony, the first time I heard something funny that wasn't also a little bit stupid. It was some joke Garry Shandling made when he was guest-hosting The Tonight Show, which my mother watched; I must have been about 12 or 13? I don't even remember the joke but I remember rolling on the floor, my cheeks and sides sore, and my mother asking me if I was alright because I was hysterical. It made an incredible impression on me, and - I didn't realize, really, until seeing him live that night - it also, like, imprinted me with a love of Jewish humor. I think maybe I think Jewish comedic entertainers and artists are funny because Garry Shandling was the very first person I ever found really, really funny. I didn't tell Garry the whole story; my question was something along the line of "Garry, I remember some joke you made when guest hosting as being the first thing I really found funny as an adult, and what was the first thing you all found really funny?"
It was hard enough to get that in, by the way - the joke machine never paused, so you really had to be aggressive to get in your question. Afterwards: dead silence, for the first and only time that evening. They were all thinking. Finally, Zach, the young hip (as opposed to old crotchety) Jew, said, "I'll answer, as I think I'm closer to that moment." I can't remember his answer, because I was distracted by his gaze - he was only a few feet from me (Garry and Alan were father back on stage, I couldn't really see them) and when he turned his clear blue eyes on me to answer....well, I'll admit, he's pretty cute and was somewhat magnetic, up close. But Garry and Alan's answer I do remember, because it was the same, and close to my own heart: Woody Allen. It's true. I saw Sleeper as a kid and it really stuck with me, even though it was years before I discovered Woody Allen, and more years before I realized Sleeper was related to Woody Allen at all.
At any rate, there's more stories to tell about famespotting and keeping your personal authenticity in the face of fame, but I think I did pretty good with Garry Shandling. And I got to make a few hundred people packed into the historic Castro Theater laugh - well, like Stephen Colbert, I guess I was the straight man, not the comic, but hey, you need both to make a laugh.
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