So I'm in the middle of writing a play and like most writing ventures that I pursue, I've reached a place of severe frustration and doubt and have thus decided to start blogging about the process in hopes that it will assist me in working through my problems and help me to achieve my dreams of becoming a successful novelist/playwright/screenwriter or any/all of the above. At around midnight last night I sat on my couch with my laptop open staring at the ten odd pages of my most current attempt at brilliance when I suddenly found myself spouting off and whining in a typical Matthew Tuer fashion about how it's never going to happen, that I'm totally useless and why god why do I even bother continuing to torture myself again and again when suddenly I looked down at my arm and saw my beautiful tattoo that I got at the beginning of last summer.
NO DAY BUT TODAY
It's a line from the musical, 'Rent', in case you're one of the unfortunate people who hasn't had the chance to see it... or obsess over it (Okay, okay I know there are a lot of people who don't like it but I just don't think they really Understand it... it revolutionized Broadway for god sakes, and if you reallly just didn't like it, I'll try my best not to judge you... yeah right.) With a combination of fate and sheer effort, i've been fortunate enough to see the brilliant show 5 times. When I found out it was going to be shutting down off Broadway two summers ago I very quickly made the decision to make two of my dreams come true; one being to go to New York, and the other to see see Rent on Broadway. (I know, I know... and I didn't want this to be a gay blog! Ha!) So this tattoo has a lot of significance to me. Not only is it an amazing reminder every time I look at my arm to live for the moment, something we should all strive for every day of our lives, but it means so much more. Jonathan Larson, who was the incredibly talented creator/author of RENT, both music and lyrics, died tragically of a brain aneurism... get this... the night before RENT opened in New York!!! Jonathan never got to see the phenomenon that his musical became, running on Broadway for a whole 10 years! Something about this has always haunted me. More than that, it's shaken my very core. Why did this beautiful person die the NIGHT before his greatest acheivement? And I know a lot of weird and bad shit happens all the time, but this just seems like too much of a coincidance to not have some sort of universal, cosmic significance, don't you agree?! Like, Why the face? So what is it then? I don't think anyone could ever really know that except for maybe Jonathan Larson himself, wherever he may be. But what we can know is the significance his death had on the message of his brilliant show. No Day But Today. How F*#($*G crazy is that? Am I alone in this? Imagine those actors going on stage the day after Jonathan died and belting out through their tears, "No Day But Today". Wow. What a crazy world. But then it also made me wonder something from an artist's standpoint, which is really what I'm trying to get at here since this is supposed to somehow relate back to my journey towards becoming a writer. If Jonathan Larson had known that he would die before anyone had a chance to tell him what they thought of his show, would he still have wanted to devote how ever many years of his life to creating it? I don't think there's anyone reading this right now who would say that he wouldn't have. That he wouldn't still have taken all the pain and anger and frustration and beauty that goes into writing and spent every moment of his life devoted to making Rent possible. Even if he never knew it didn't completely bomb. And so isn't that the greatest lesson of all? The very thing I need to remind myself of every time I look down at my arm. It doesn't matter where any of my writing ends up, and who thinks what of it when it gets there. It only matters that it fullfills me in every moment of my life. That whatever stupid words spill out of my mouth and onto the page makes me giddy with joy every time I write a sentence. Who fucking cares if I win an Oscar or a Tony or a Razzie award. If I think too much about that, I'm going to miss the point. After all, I could drop dead the night before the Academy Awards. So maybe this shouldn't be my journey towards becoming a writer after all. Maybe it should be... "The journey of a writer". I like that much better, don't you? So I dunno.. maybe this inspired you a bit or maybe you didn't even make it this far.. but if you did, then I think you know what to do. Go out and pick up a pen, grab a baseball bat or a baton or a bag of heroin. Whatever you love to do and whatever fulfills you, do it everyday without ever thinking about where it will take you. (except maybe the heroin) R.I.P Jonathan Larson. One of the greatest artistic influences in my life. I will try to think of you the next time I find myself crying alone in my home through wine stained teeth... why god why isn't this easier? And let's all hope and pray that by the end of this venture i'll have an amazing play to produce and direct and that you can all come and see just how talented I really am! Wait a minute... did I just miss the point again? DAMNIT! :-)
