-- I was a senior in college, finishing up my last semester at NYU.
-- I had just been cast in Sam Shepard's Red Cross, which marked my return to the New York stage after an eight month absence. During my junior year I had completely burned myself out on theater, taking on more roles and spending more time in a theater than is humanly possible. I took the first semester off from any actual live theater, and instead decided to focus on intensive studio work to get my audition chops up to kick-ass shape. I also decided that, instead of being in eight million productions all over the city, I'd actually try to have a life outside of theater for the first time in four years.
-- I was just coming out of a complete and total Dating Rampage. After playing things relatively low key for three years, I absolutely exploded onto the scene first semester. I can't really explain this phenomenon. There were girls. Lots of them. And I found I had as much difficulty saying "no" to them as I did saying "no" to a role.
-- On that very day, Feb. 3rd, I decided to ask out this girl I had an ENORMOUS crush on. She was in my stage combat class, so we got to throw balls in each others faces and smack each other around with swords. And I had the HARDEST time asking her out. I really, really liked this girl, and if she said no, well, my heart would absolutely be broken into millions of pieces and then I'd have to write an entire emo concept album about her and stuff like that takes time, time which I'd much rather spend going out with her. But I did it. I did ask her, and she did say yes. But we hadn't set at date... we said we'd work it out later... and then she disappeared for two weeks straight. Eventually, we did go on our date. And as far as dates go in my life time, that was the best one ever. We went out for coffee around 9, and it lasted for six-and-a-half hours. Sooner or later, we became an actual couple or something like that, until one day she went off to New Mexico in some play, and she ran off with this other guy. Oh well. Sometimes you eat the bahr, and sometimes the bahr eats you. To this day, I still think she's the most stunningly beautiful woman I've ever laid eyes upon.
-- I was listening almost exclusively to Tom Waits, Pavement, Jeff Buckley, and Olivia Tremor Control
-- I had facial hair.
-- I had taken to oil painting. I don't paint.
-- St. Mark's Ale House. $2 pints of everything from 4-8. I was probably there.
-- Bull McCabe's.
-- J Holt and Tim Murphy. Those guys were great friends. They were awfully good to me.
--I drank Johnnie Walker Black was my signature drink. Clever, eh? Infact, it was sort of what I was known for. The guy who, went he's out, orders a Johnnie Walker Black on the rocks. Most of the kids weren't into the Scotch so much, except for my roommate and I. However, I did have a bunch of friends who were sophomores at the time. Being the young and impressionable sort of folk that sophomores are, they kinda caught on to the Johnnie Walker Black things and started drinking it themselves. That's my big accompishment in life -- introducing Johnnie Walker Black to underage drinkers all over NewYork City. It's stuff like this that's gonna get me elected President someday.
--Everyone was talking about What they Wanted to Be When They Grew Up. Most of my theater brethren and sistren (is that a word? ah, eff it.) had the typical "I was meant for the stage" or "I'm gonna start a theater company" rant and raves going on. But me, I wanted to be Tom Waits. Quite literally. I wanted to roam around the country hagning out in truck stops. I wanted to wake up late with a cup of coffee and a shot of whiskey. I wanted to stay up late sitting around alone in bars, wearing tattered clothes and rieeking of cigarette smoke. (Hey! I'm living the dream!). I wanted to fall in love for short periods of time, take off like a bandit in the night, and get out in time for my coffee and my whiskey at the truck stop
-- When I wasn't trying to be Tom Waits, I was trying to be Robert Rauschenberg.
-- I actually wrote a novel. Infact, I just dug it up right now, tried to read it, then vomited. Damn Chinese food.
-- I was living on 14th St. in Manhattan, right around the corner from the Heartland Brewery. Kind of a touristy brew-pub trap, but I was rather fond of their stout. My roommates and I used to go there around midnight, have a few 22-ouncers of the stout, and play Mario Party all night
And that's it. That's what I remember, anyways. Nothin' special. That's just what was going on then. In that time.
In honor of Happyrobot's 5th anniversary, I went back and read a lot of old entries -- and by old, I mean from before I got here a year and a half ago. If you have the time, you should try it. Some many old questions and quandries I've seen answered right before my eyes. This thing rules.
