tonight I might have journeyed back into my past, but it was not to be... the fat woman sprawled next to me was taking up half my seat... and she stunk... I mean, really foul body odor from places she probably can not reach... and if that wasn't enough, she was on her cell phone half the show talking to someone who had the police at their house... or her house... I mean, sub-ghetto... and I just wanted the slightest hint of a taste of Broadway... not tonight, Aunt Jemima...

in New York, she would have been told to leave the theatre, but this is Orlando and I am coming to accept it for what it is, a small (in mind and in culture) southern farm town that Disney turned into a fake city, not even a decent facade of tinsel like Hollywood (which is why it still has not come near being the Hollywood of the east coast, no matter how many studios have tried to sell that idea)... I don't even feel like a snob when I reluctantly come to accept that there is just not enough respect, awareness, or feeling for true theatre around here...

it was a community college production of A Chorus Line and plastic mannequins might have done a better job, but then, my view of the show was obviously obscured because all I could do was use body language to shrink the classless cesspool parked next to me back into her seat and the seat of her friend next to her and try to focus on the show... when her head fell back and she nodded off, it was almost a blessing... why she spent her money on the ticket remains a mystery...

the show was ok... they tried and there was some excellent talent on stage, more amongst the males than females, as a group, but there were a few females who shined too... most seemed to be holding back, playing a part, putting on a show... most of the girls moved as if they were uncomfortable in their own bodies... and A Chorus Line is not a place for fat kids in leotards... the whole harsh cold reality of theatre, which is what the show is about, is blown when an ensemble has to settle for flabby belly rolls simply because there are not enough true dancers who can sing well in the talent pool... that is why I cringe when I hear about a production of A Chorus Line or any big ensemble musical with much dancing, but this one is the epitome of the genre because that is what the story is about, being good enough, having the complete package, voice, moves, body, face, personality, and energy for Broadway...

I might have enjoyed it more if the audience was more into it (or if I was with someone who knew all the words like me and just had to sing them)... but I find too often when I see a local production of a show I've seen on Broadway (or in a big city with a history and talent pool for theatre... Toronto had great theatre too and I've seen great shows in Denver, Los Angeles, San Francisco, and other cities so it's not just a New York snobbery, but the truth is there is only one Broadway) I miss the energy and ambiance and magic of theatre that is so rare in a small company performance at a school or anywhere...

I find myself wanting to stand up and shout why are you holding back?...

but I show more respect for the performers than for the performance or the play itself... I usually start the applause and often lead an audience simply because I am in the moment and the audience is part of the show... at least that's how it is on Broadway...

sheesh, do I ever sound like an elitist shithead, huh?...

well, theatre is one aspect of life where energy (or lack thereof) can not hide or be faked... and I don't care how I come on in my opinions on the matter because I know where I've been and the communal theatre experience when the energy is right is like no other life experience (which is why it's called magic)... when I saw A Chorus Line on Broadway, the theatre was packed and the audience gave standing ovations during the performance... that's the kind of show it is... and when the finale started, the audience stood and clapped and cheered throughout the entire final dance number and then for several minutes after the curtains closed... that is how good the show was and that is what a show about what theatre is about is meant to do, express what theatre is all about...

so we come to one more part of me that few can come near, no less touch... because the energy just can not be faked... and there's a high probability that this mood is tainted with distain for myself because I've pretended I could fake it and know it and pretend it doesn't matter and pretend to wonder why I am alone...

if that doesn't make sense, that's ok, it's not meant to make sense outside of my head and if it does make sense to you, bravo... touch�, even... I did what I had to do, no regrets, won't forget, not dead yet...

I am feeling bored with the lack of energy and creativity and emotion in life... this is a very good thing, even though it can seem quite depressing... from, boredom comes impulsive acts and from impulsive acts comes madness, folly, or some creative magic (or a mixture, which might define art, after all)... maybe I should grab a paint brush and some tubes before I start climbing the walls (and he grins that all-knowing self-mocking grin that puzzles even the Cheshire cat)...

and on that note, I bid you a fond farewell for tonight... the day, she is over... and like a chapter of a life, kiss her goodbye... and make room for tomorrow... that's life... so make the most of it... and share every bit you can... cuz you never know when the opportunity will come again...

nite nite J

. o O ( NOTES ARE THE NEW HAPPY PILL ) O o .
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