No. 4 - Crunchy Quotes Can Cut Through Fog
Legendary theatre critic Walter Kerr wrote the following in his review of Neil Simon’s The Star-Spangled Girl:
“Neil Simon didn’t have an idea for a play this year, but he wrote one anyway.”
Not exactly a glowing review. I start with that because all three of you who read this semi-weekly drivel will be thinking the same thing when you’re done reading this. No, I don’t have an idea for a column, but I am writing on anyway. So THERE!
The very under-appreciated film Wonder Boys begins with a Bob Dylan song that goes a-like so:
“I used to care, but….things have changed.”
Very, very true indeed. That song has been bouncing around in my head for two weeks now, and it has become my theme song, so to speak. Let’s make it the theme song for this column! Sound good? Good.
On Wonder Boys for a moment….people either love it or really, really passionately hate it. I happen to love it. It’s one of my favorite movies about the process and craft of writing—right alongside Adaptation and Barton Fink. If you haven’t seen those, mush to thy nearest Blockbuster! Many people hate those movies too. Maybe people just hate writers. I hate writers sometimes.
So many of my close friends are truckin’ through depression town this week and I truckin’ along with them. Something has come over the city, making everyone glum and snappy and sardonically morose. Yes, moreso than usual! Friends are leaving, others are quitting the business, work is hard to come by (as always), money is the uncle that never comes to Christmas and Taco Bell has stopped serving the Cheesy Gordita Crunch. Something is rotten in the state of New York! We used to be so full of hope and vivre back in the day. To quote Chris Mollica’s recent play Couch for a moment:
“We were so intense and dramatic back then….”
We’re still dramatic, but in a completely different way.
Not exactly a glowing review. I start with that because all three of you who read this semi-weekly drivel will be thinking the same thing when you’re done reading this. No, I don’t have an idea for a column, but I am writing on anyway. So THERE!
The very under-appreciated film Wonder Boys begins with a Bob Dylan song that goes a-like so:
“I used to care, but….things have changed.”
Very, very true indeed. That song has been bouncing around in my head for two weeks now, and it has become my theme song, so to speak. Let’s make it the theme song for this column! Sound good? Good.
On Wonder Boys for a moment….people either love it or really, really passionately hate it. I happen to love it. It’s one of my favorite movies about the process and craft of writing—right alongside Adaptation and Barton Fink. If you haven’t seen those, mush to thy nearest Blockbuster! Many people hate those movies too. Maybe people just hate writers. I hate writers sometimes.
So many of my close friends are truckin’ through depression town this week and I truckin’ along with them. Something has come over the city, making everyone glum and snappy and sardonically morose. Yes, moreso than usual! Friends are leaving, others are quitting the business, work is hard to come by (as always), money is the uncle that never comes to Christmas and Taco Bell has stopped serving the Cheesy Gordita Crunch. Something is rotten in the state of New York! We used to be so full of hope and vivre back in the day. To quote Chris Mollica’s recent play Couch for a moment:
“We were so intense and dramatic back then….”
We’re still dramatic, but in a completely different way.
This is most likely why I couldn’t come up with an idea for a column. I thought about writing an entire column devoted to the aforementioned Cheesy Gordita Crunch (which I still may do) but that didn’t seem like something people would want to read. I thought about writing one about the bitch ticket woman who made me miss my subway this past Monday, but I didn’t want to celebrate such a bitchy cow. Every idea (if you can call them that) bored me and I knew that they would bore you too. Truckin’ through depression town!
Months (or even a few months slung together)like this often remind me of that lovely quote from Candide….and this always makes me take a pause.
“When one dismisses the rest of all possible worlds, one finds that this is the best of all possible worlds.”
What a loaded quote. Am I right? I used to think it meant something quite different than what I think it means now. My pal Jorge once told me that he originally thought that quote referred to camel goiters. Nowadays, I see it like this: If we don’t like this world, we’re screwed. It’s the only one we have.
My brilliant roommate served me up with a better version of this idea last night, as a matter of fact. His version went like this:
“This world, boy….it’s dangerous, it’s tricky, and it’s all we’ve got.”
You, darling reader, may be having a rough time like practically everyone else I talk to. You may be slogging around in the rain, cutting through the rancorous fog, and thinking that there’s got to be something better than this.
Hey! There isn’t.
Side note: You know what helps? Going to see plays. In particular, plays being put on by the Poor Artists Collective. End of side note.
Things change, Ideas come and go, close friends leave, and Mariano Rivera has to worry about his pitching arm when all he probably wants to do is curl up in a ball and cry.
I say all of this as much for me as I say it for all of you. This world is dangerous, it’s tricky, and it’s all we’ve got. I shall add my own addendum:
“If this is all we’ve got, let’s take what we have and go down dancing!”
Maybe Walter Kerr was on to something.
Months (or even a few months slung together)like this often remind me of that lovely quote from Candide….and this always makes me take a pause.
“When one dismisses the rest of all possible worlds, one finds that this is the best of all possible worlds.”
What a loaded quote. Am I right? I used to think it meant something quite different than what I think it means now. My pal Jorge once told me that he originally thought that quote referred to camel goiters. Nowadays, I see it like this: If we don’t like this world, we’re screwed. It’s the only one we have.
My brilliant roommate served me up with a better version of this idea last night, as a matter of fact. His version went like this:
“This world, boy….it’s dangerous, it’s tricky, and it’s all we’ve got.”
You, darling reader, may be having a rough time like practically everyone else I talk to. You may be slogging around in the rain, cutting through the rancorous fog, and thinking that there’s got to be something better than this.
Hey! There isn’t.
Side note: You know what helps? Going to see plays. In particular, plays being put on by the Poor Artists Collective. End of side note.
Things change, Ideas come and go, close friends leave, and Mariano Rivera has to worry about his pitching arm when all he probably wants to do is curl up in a ball and cry.
I say all of this as much for me as I say it for all of you. This world is dangerous, it’s tricky, and it’s all we’ve got. I shall add my own addendum:
“If this is all we’ve got, let’s take what we have and go down dancing!”
Maybe Walter Kerr was on to something.
To the ends of the earth and back,
Brian
Brian
Poor Brian’s Almanac