Chuckling...so, I kinda' got kicked off the Fox News lot yesterday :)
Actually, it's not as bad as it sounds. I was in the city for a day to chill, to hit a museum and to grab dinner somewhere. The manuscript is as perfect as I can make it, and, after months of unanswered email messages (where I was undoubtedly dismissed as a crackpot), I decided on Thursday to just throw on some clothes and take the Metra to the city, where I'd planned to leave a printed copy of When People Go Away at the Fox News reception desk. But I was told (understandably) that unsolicited packages were not accepted, though one of the building's security staff pulled me aside and suggested I return on Friday morning, when the channel broadcasts live in the courtyard outside the studio, during football season. I thanked the employee gratefully, then grabbed a room at at The Congress, ironically, the IML host hotel. I threw an overnight bag together at Walgreens, enjoyed an unnecessarily-expensive burger at Five Guys, then spent the evening exploring both Michigan Ave & State Street - taking in the holiday decorations and tipping a few buskers.
I couldn't sleep of course, so I got up early, grabbed breakfast, made sure I had my manuscript, then went walking through downtown Chicago at 5am. I love the city at night. I love the early-mornings, in particular. I arrived at Fox, and found the spot where the hosts would be located. I'll admit, I was expecting a "Janice Dean say-hi-on-the-sidewalk" sort of greeting, but instead I was told firmly to leave and to never come back (obviously because my Schott & Muir wasn't the preferred aesthetic for an audience background). I sighed and left. It was yet another roadblock in the 30-year-process of writing WPGA. So, I just said "fuck it," and FedEx'd the book to Gutfeld, dropping it on his desk like a bomb.
I have, literally, done everything humanly possible to share my story, and at this point ... I'm done.
Actually, it's not as bad as it sounds. I was in the city for a day to chill, to hit a museum and to grab dinner somewhere. The manuscript is as perfect as I can make it, and, after months of unanswered email messages (where I was undoubtedly dismissed as a crackpot), I decided on Thursday to just throw on some clothes and take the Metra to the city, where I'd planned to leave a printed copy of When People Go Away at the Fox News reception desk. But I was told (understandably) that unsolicited packages were not accepted, though one of the building's security staff pulled me aside and suggested I return on Friday morning, when the channel broadcasts live in the courtyard outside the studio, during football season. I thanked the employee gratefully, then grabbed a room at at The Congress, ironically, the IML host hotel. I threw an overnight bag together at Walgreens, enjoyed an unnecessarily-expensive burger at Five Guys, then spent the evening exploring both Michigan Ave & State Street - taking in the holiday decorations and tipping a few buskers.
I couldn't sleep of course, so I got up early, grabbed breakfast, made sure I had my manuscript, then went walking through downtown Chicago at 5am. I love the city at night. I love the early-mornings, in particular. I arrived at Fox, and found the spot where the hosts would be located. I'll admit, I was expecting a "Janice Dean say-hi-on-the-sidewalk" sort of greeting, but instead I was told firmly to leave and to never come back (obviously because my Schott & Muir wasn't the preferred aesthetic for an audience background). I sighed and left. It was yet another roadblock in the 30-year-process of writing WPGA. So, I just said "fuck it," and FedEx'd the book to Gutfeld, dropping it on his desk like a bomb.
I have, literally, done everything humanly possible to share my story, and at this point ... I'm done.
On a different topic, I saw a solid community theater production of Stephen Sondheim's "Assassins" last night - and absolutely loved it. It's no secret I prefer Andrew Lloyd Webber over Sondheim because I enjoy ALW's melodies and wordplay - though I openly admit SS is the superior lyricist. ALW gives you songs in your head to take with you after leaving the theater, but SS really gives you something to think about after leaving the performance. ALW is big & brassy, SS is subtle & eloquent. ALW's "Memory" is a breathtakingly-beautiful, while SS's "A Little Priest" has a lyrical structure as complicated as a line of DNA code. I had never seen Assassins (I hadn't even YouTube'd the soundtrack), so like a first viewing of the Rocky Horror Picture Show, I was, ironically, a "virgin." I'll remind myself of that the next time I open Grindr.
The reason why I enjoyed Assassins as I did was that I finally understood how gifted Sondheim was. There was a moment during the performance when every character on stage points a gun directly at the audience, threatening to shoot. As soon as I saw that, a "connection" was made in my head, and I realized that SS was using words in the same manner as me - he sets up moments where his characters are conduits, where he can share grand ideas while always maintaining the safety of claiming it was "just a story." It was at that moment that I realized just how dark of a show Assassins is, and what an irony seeing this show at this moment in my life really was. Quite frankly, now that the manuscript is literally out of my hands, the wall that has protected me from three failed suicide attempts has come down. And I couldn't be happier.
The reason why I enjoyed Assassins as I did was that I finally understood how gifted Sondheim was. There was a moment during the performance when every character on stage points a gun directly at the audience, threatening to shoot. As soon as I saw that, a "connection" was made in my head, and I realized that SS was using words in the same manner as me - he sets up moments where his characters are conduits, where he can share grand ideas while always maintaining the safety of claiming it was "just a story." It was at that moment that I realized just how dark of a show Assassins is, and what an irony seeing this show at this moment in my life really was. Quite frankly, now that the manuscript is literally out of my hands, the wall that has protected me from three failed suicide attempts has come down. And I couldn't be happier.
Speaking of unexpected community theater, tomorrow I get to see a show in Streator, Illinois. Yup - I said Streator. For those unfamiliar, Streator is known for its high per-capita of registered sex offenders, which has something to do with the placement of schools: apparently, Streator's educational system allows enough physical distance for offenders to live in close proximity of each other, without the restrictions of being too close to a children's playground. Fun. I'm reminded of OZ's Vernon Schillinger, sitting on the throne of Shakespeare's Hamlet during the show's final season. I'm going to see "Nevermore, the Imaginary Life and Mysterious Death of Edgar Allan Poe," another virgin-production that I'm unfamiliar with. It looks really good, and as my personalities reintegrate, the one who loves Broadway Shows - a child, sadly - has been playing fuckin' musicals on my iPhone for a solid month now. I'm tempted to cheat, and to listen to Nevermore online first, but after having such a good experience at Assassins last night, fuck it. How can that show with that subject matter performed by that pool of potentially-pedophole-thesbians not be priceless? I mean, Poe died in the gutter, so why not use musical theater to rise him from one? I totally want to see an ensemble cast of serious ex-cons, dressed to the nines with the best that the prison linen closet can offer, singing, of course, A Little Judas Priest.
On an unrelated note, I just realized that When People Go Away is "God's suicide note."
(Smiling sadly.)
- Sir Dave
On an unrelated note, I just realized that When People Go Away is "God's suicide note."
(Smiling sadly.)
- Sir Dave