So, the thing is that seeing the Colbert Report is illuminating for reasons you might never expect, and that's the part I like about it.
First, there's the surface fun - the just giggly giddy goofy guilty pleasure of going to see in person something you are used to seeing from afar. It's FUN to see the pyramids, Van Gogh's Starry Night, and the Sistine Chapel. Hey, you think - there it is. That thing that's famous, there is the REAL one. There's Hugh Jackman. There's the Statue of Liberty. There's the Grand Canyon. Whatever - you saw it there, and now you see it here. So, there's the "here" of the Report, which is especially fun since Colbert likes to emphasize the theatricality of it all by doing the backstage / fourth wall thing...you know, all that stuff with Jimmy the sound guy or Jay the Intern (who is really one of the staff writers). Colbert loves to go meta, and nothing is more satisfying than seeing something meta in person, which makes it REAL and META at the same time. Mmm....delicious.
Then, there's the energy and excitement of a live show - and Colbert really plays to the audience, as I mentioned. I didn't quite understand the nature of his performance until I saw him OUT of character, which shows a (naturally) very different Stephen. His body language is very different, even; it's super impressive. And then he plays great music, and the other audience members are all fans, so the pre-show waiting is like a little community. People ask and tell where they are from, have they seen the show live before, what they like about Stephen, etc. I'm sure more than one couple has hooked up, at least for the night, in the Colbert Report line; you feel you are surrounded by a self-selecting group you can trust.
Speaking of trust, there's Stephen's presence, which is delightful. From the first time I saw him, I was struck by the way in which his spirit and presence permeates the studio. I'm pretty sensitive to energy and mood in a room, and a strong spirit really attracts my attention. I was so touched and inspired by the way Stephen treats his crew and co-workers - he leads them in the best sense of the word (managers do things right, leaders do the right thing), with respect and love. He calls his show the "joy machine," and, when you're there in person, you feel it. Or, I did, anyway. The first time I saw him, I remember thinking: "So, *that* is how it's done; that is how one can be at the top of a hierarchical structure and yet still remain so human and kind." I struggle with my natural authority, which feels so directly at odds with my "no gods, no masters / all men are brothers" philosophy. Stephen was one, among others, who helped model for me the behavior I have since internalized; I learn from him every time I see him. I learn a lot.
There's the participatory aspect of being PART of show. For instance, you can hear me laugh - I mean, you can distinctly make out MY laugh, separate from the crowd - in the last show I was at, and that's hilarious to me. I also like the altered perspective - of being at an event in space and time that you experience twice: once, unmediated reality (I was there) and once, mediated (I watched the show with my partner when I got home). Comparing and contrasting the two experiences was enlightening.
For instance, Stephen's audiences have gotten increasingly more vocal (they almost always do the "Ste-phen, Ste-phen!" chant), and I was a little concerned that our particular audience would not come up to snuff. We sounded OK in rehearsal, but they really emphasized his return from vacation and our obligation to really PROVE our love vocally. During and after, I continued to worry we were too quiet and lame. Yet, when I watched the show later, the yelling of the crowd was so much crazier than it had seemed. We were fine. We were better than fine - we rocked. It made me wonder how often I needlessly doubt myself in other situations.
I got the clapping going, from a joke or choice moment, a few times; I mean, I started it. But that's no different from my normal life - at work, at home, I am the person saying "C'mon, everybody - let's do it!" I am beloved for my cat herding abilities and willingness to do it.
Politically, it's interesting to see how the media - even when they don't MEAN to - distorts the truth. There were a few things missing from the broadcast version of the Tim Pawlenty interview. What about when he tells Stephen he was a "little ticked off" at him for taking some of the wind out of his sails with all the attention his Super Pac got, and Stephen reacted to Pawlenty's mock threat by criticizing his weak security ("I have a security team here, sir, and you just brought one guy").
Or when Tim emphatically stated in no uncertain terms that he does NOT want and has NO interest in the Vice Presidency. That seems like something it's not so good to say a week after you drop out of the Presidential race, a viable candidate if longshot. I mean, doesn't that seem like a phrase to regret? And Comedy Central has footage of it, just waiting for Tim to do something later - and even if they don't, *I* remember it. THIS is the distinction between reality and mediated reality, which is something people are paying less and less attention to, and understanding the distinction less and less as well. Frightening. It's good to go to The Colbert Report and keep one's perspective on this.
I must mention here that Stephen does everything he can to attempt to preserve the mystery of the show. They hide all the stuff in his desk (props, cats, food, whatever) BEFORE they let you in, so it's a surprise. The first time, it was Jon Oliver he was hiding under his desk, and poor Jon was under there for, like, half an hour or more while the audience was seated and the show set up, etc. It was awesome when he popped out. This time, they were surreptitious about the joke prop shoe Stephen wore at the end for his "goodnight, everybody" moment - he put the shoe on very discreetly, so we, even though we'd been sitting there the whole time, would enjoy the joke to the full. It's a very sweet, kind sort of way of showing you care about your audience.
There's also the prestige of having gone, the story one gets to tell, but that's all sort of icing on the cake. The real thing I most love going to see The Colbert Report for is it seems to be a sort of litmus test for where I am in my own life: how close am I to being like Stephen Colbert? Not that I want to be *like* him, but am I being like me in the same way that he is like himself? He's authentic, fearless, connected, grounded. He's got gravitas AND gratitude (he spoke of gratitude in an interview I read, and you can also just *see* it, if you know how to spot it).
And I want to be, in my own way, authentic, fearless, connected, grounded. I want to have gravitas and gratitude, of course. And the way one gets to be all of that is, in some way, by believing and behaving that way, and it's a lot easier if there's someone to look at who is already doing it. So, how close am I to being like Stephen (not being Stephen-like); each time, I get more comfortable, and closer to my ideal. I've said before, a true test of self-possession is how grounded and relaxed you can remain in the face of power, money, and/or fame. Can you be yourself around the President? Around Brad Pitt? Around your boss? Around your father? You get the idea.
I find that, for me, it gets easier. I am pretty much myself no matter where I am; I can lecture in front of two hundred people and remain myself. I can walk around naked at Harbin Hot Springs and be myself. And I can talk to any celebrity - people of note, whose work I respect tremendously: Wallace Shawn, and Hugh Jackman, and now Stephen Colbert - and be myself. Colbert is a hero to me, so it's hard to think that I am in the same leauge, but that sort of thinking does no one any good. I've said it before, but it bears repeating, that great Nelson Mandela quote: "Our deepest fear is not that we are inadequate. Our deepest fear is that we are powerful beyond measure. It is our light, not our darkness that most frightens us. We ask ourselves, Who am I to be brilliant, gorgeous, talented, fabulous? Actually, who are you not to be?"
Exactly.
This particular time was very special for me, because I'd finished my three-day novel just less than 24 hours prior - a major, feel-good accomplishment. My boss had also called - while I was on vacation, she apologized but it was important - to basically give me an informal promotion (ask if I were open to some additional responsibilities and authority; I was) - another somewhat big step. And I was lucky enough to get into The Colbert Report, which was just another bit of evidence that I was in the zone and going with the flow. There's nothing like that feeling that everything is going SO well.
I had my manuscript with me to try and correct some of the egregious errors before sending it in (quick writing = missing words). Because it made me look officious - I was reading and editing while standing in line, and it looked like I had a clipboard - and because of my natural authority, people kept coming up to me to ask if they should get in line or what. When I pointed out where to go, out of courtesy - because I do know - they asked me "Oh, do you need to see my ID or...." and I'd have to shake my head and explain I did not work there. The manuscript gave me a mission - I kept reading it during those dead hours between 4pm when they take your name and 5:45pm when you have to be back. The neighborhood is no prize, but I found a nearby library branch where I could sit, out of the rain, and read and listen to my iPod along with the other New Yorkers who use public libraries. It was romantic, somehow.
I continued working on my brand-new novel as I waited in line, waited for security, waited to get in. I looked up at the monitor where the Best Of Stephen Colbert was playing and I laughed along with everyone else, but then I went back to what I had to do. Stephen was doing his thing, and I was doing mine. It felt very good.
There's nothing like creativity. I love to witness it, I love to generate it (or channel it - it's both at once), I love to look back on it, look forward to it, and be in it. Work is creative, and my writing is creative, and, for me, going ot see Stephen Colbert is creative, because I'm not just enjoying him, I'm also internalizing him, and that means when I leave, I am more than I was before. It's like that with every moment of life, of course, but you are rarely aware of it, and awareness, I am learning, is the real key to life.
First, there's the surface fun - the just giggly giddy goofy guilty pleasure of going to see in person something you are used to seeing from afar. It's FUN to see the pyramids, Van Gogh's Starry Night, and the Sistine Chapel. Hey, you think - there it is. That thing that's famous, there is the REAL one. There's Hugh Jackman. There's the Statue of Liberty. There's the Grand Canyon. Whatever - you saw it there, and now you see it here. So, there's the "here" of the Report, which is especially fun since Colbert likes to emphasize the theatricality of it all by doing the backstage / fourth wall thing...you know, all that stuff with Jimmy the sound guy or Jay the Intern (who is really one of the staff writers). Colbert loves to go meta, and nothing is more satisfying than seeing something meta in person, which makes it REAL and META at the same time. Mmm....delicious.
Then, there's the energy and excitement of a live show - and Colbert really plays to the audience, as I mentioned. I didn't quite understand the nature of his performance until I saw him OUT of character, which shows a (naturally) very different Stephen. His body language is very different, even; it's super impressive. And then he plays great music, and the other audience members are all fans, so the pre-show waiting is like a little community. People ask and tell where they are from, have they seen the show live before, what they like about Stephen, etc. I'm sure more than one couple has hooked up, at least for the night, in the Colbert Report line; you feel you are surrounded by a self-selecting group you can trust.
Speaking of trust, there's Stephen's presence, which is delightful. From the first time I saw him, I was struck by the way in which his spirit and presence permeates the studio. I'm pretty sensitive to energy and mood in a room, and a strong spirit really attracts my attention. I was so touched and inspired by the way Stephen treats his crew and co-workers - he leads them in the best sense of the word (managers do things right, leaders do the right thing), with respect and love. He calls his show the "joy machine," and, when you're there in person, you feel it. Or, I did, anyway. The first time I saw him, I remember thinking: "So, *that* is how it's done; that is how one can be at the top of a hierarchical structure and yet still remain so human and kind." I struggle with my natural authority, which feels so directly at odds with my "no gods, no masters / all men are brothers" philosophy. Stephen was one, among others, who helped model for me the behavior I have since internalized; I learn from him every time I see him. I learn a lot.
There's the participatory aspect of being PART of show. For instance, you can hear me laugh - I mean, you can distinctly make out MY laugh, separate from the crowd - in the last show I was at, and that's hilarious to me. I also like the altered perspective - of being at an event in space and time that you experience twice: once, unmediated reality (I was there) and once, mediated (I watched the show with my partner when I got home). Comparing and contrasting the two experiences was enlightening.
For instance, Stephen's audiences have gotten increasingly more vocal (they almost always do the "Ste-phen, Ste-phen!" chant), and I was a little concerned that our particular audience would not come up to snuff. We sounded OK in rehearsal, but they really emphasized his return from vacation and our obligation to really PROVE our love vocally. During and after, I continued to worry we were too quiet and lame. Yet, when I watched the show later, the yelling of the crowd was so much crazier than it had seemed. We were fine. We were better than fine - we rocked. It made me wonder how often I needlessly doubt myself in other situations.
I got the clapping going, from a joke or choice moment, a few times; I mean, I started it. But that's no different from my normal life - at work, at home, I am the person saying "C'mon, everybody - let's do it!" I am beloved for my cat herding abilities and willingness to do it.
Politically, it's interesting to see how the media - even when they don't MEAN to - distorts the truth. There were a few things missing from the broadcast version of the Tim Pawlenty interview. What about when he tells Stephen he was a "little ticked off" at him for taking some of the wind out of his sails with all the attention his Super Pac got, and Stephen reacted to Pawlenty's mock threat by criticizing his weak security ("I have a security team here, sir, and you just brought one guy").
Or when Tim emphatically stated in no uncertain terms that he does NOT want and has NO interest in the Vice Presidency. That seems like something it's not so good to say a week after you drop out of the Presidential race, a viable candidate if longshot. I mean, doesn't that seem like a phrase to regret? And Comedy Central has footage of it, just waiting for Tim to do something later - and even if they don't, *I* remember it. THIS is the distinction between reality and mediated reality, which is something people are paying less and less attention to, and understanding the distinction less and less as well. Frightening. It's good to go to The Colbert Report and keep one's perspective on this.
I must mention here that Stephen does everything he can to attempt to preserve the mystery of the show. They hide all the stuff in his desk (props, cats, food, whatever) BEFORE they let you in, so it's a surprise. The first time, it was Jon Oliver he was hiding under his desk, and poor Jon was under there for, like, half an hour or more while the audience was seated and the show set up, etc. It was awesome when he popped out. This time, they were surreptitious about the joke prop shoe Stephen wore at the end for his "goodnight, everybody" moment - he put the shoe on very discreetly, so we, even though we'd been sitting there the whole time, would enjoy the joke to the full. It's a very sweet, kind sort of way of showing you care about your audience.
There's also the prestige of having gone, the story one gets to tell, but that's all sort of icing on the cake. The real thing I most love going to see The Colbert Report for is it seems to be a sort of litmus test for where I am in my own life: how close am I to being like Stephen Colbert? Not that I want to be *like* him, but am I being like me in the same way that he is like himself? He's authentic, fearless, connected, grounded. He's got gravitas AND gratitude (he spoke of gratitude in an interview I read, and you can also just *see* it, if you know how to spot it).
And I want to be, in my own way, authentic, fearless, connected, grounded. I want to have gravitas and gratitude, of course. And the way one gets to be all of that is, in some way, by believing and behaving that way, and it's a lot easier if there's someone to look at who is already doing it. So, how close am I to being like Stephen (not being Stephen-like); each time, I get more comfortable, and closer to my ideal. I've said before, a true test of self-possession is how grounded and relaxed you can remain in the face of power, money, and/or fame. Can you be yourself around the President? Around Brad Pitt? Around your boss? Around your father? You get the idea.
I find that, for me, it gets easier. I am pretty much myself no matter where I am; I can lecture in front of two hundred people and remain myself. I can walk around naked at Harbin Hot Springs and be myself. And I can talk to any celebrity - people of note, whose work I respect tremendously: Wallace Shawn, and Hugh Jackman, and now Stephen Colbert - and be myself. Colbert is a hero to me, so it's hard to think that I am in the same leauge, but that sort of thinking does no one any good. I've said it before, but it bears repeating, that great Nelson Mandela quote: "Our deepest fear is not that we are inadequate. Our deepest fear is that we are powerful beyond measure. It is our light, not our darkness that most frightens us. We ask ourselves, Who am I to be brilliant, gorgeous, talented, fabulous? Actually, who are you not to be?"
Exactly.
This particular time was very special for me, because I'd finished my three-day novel just less than 24 hours prior - a major, feel-good accomplishment. My boss had also called - while I was on vacation, she apologized but it was important - to basically give me an informal promotion (ask if I were open to some additional responsibilities and authority; I was) - another somewhat big step. And I was lucky enough to get into The Colbert Report, which was just another bit of evidence that I was in the zone and going with the flow. There's nothing like that feeling that everything is going SO well.
I had my manuscript with me to try and correct some of the egregious errors before sending it in (quick writing = missing words). Because it made me look officious - I was reading and editing while standing in line, and it looked like I had a clipboard - and because of my natural authority, people kept coming up to me to ask if they should get in line or what. When I pointed out where to go, out of courtesy - because I do know - they asked me "Oh, do you need to see my ID or...." and I'd have to shake my head and explain I did not work there. The manuscript gave me a mission - I kept reading it during those dead hours between 4pm when they take your name and 5:45pm when you have to be back. The neighborhood is no prize, but I found a nearby library branch where I could sit, out of the rain, and read and listen to my iPod along with the other New Yorkers who use public libraries. It was romantic, somehow.
I continued working on my brand-new novel as I waited in line, waited for security, waited to get in. I looked up at the monitor where the Best Of Stephen Colbert was playing and I laughed along with everyone else, but then I went back to what I had to do. Stephen was doing his thing, and I was doing mine. It felt very good.
There's nothing like creativity. I love to witness it, I love to generate it (or channel it - it's both at once), I love to look back on it, look forward to it, and be in it. Work is creative, and my writing is creative, and, for me, going ot see Stephen Colbert is creative, because I'm not just enjoying him, I'm also internalizing him, and that means when I leave, I am more than I was before. It's like that with every moment of life, of course, but you are rarely aware of it, and awareness, I am learning, is the real key to life.
No comments:
Post a Comment