In case the title of this post threw you, and you are fretting for the future of this blog, don't worry. Fame doesn't happen overnight. Scientifically speaking, it happens in thirteen steps, and I've only uncovered six of them. I purposefully used the "little f" famous instead of the "big F" Famous in the title of this post, because I have not yet reached my goal of worldwide notoriety. I have, however, conquered one city.
The wonderful thing about being a writer (/actor) is that you can do it from afar. You don't have to mingle with pretentious directors and foul-smelling actors. (Don't get me started on technicians.) You just type words into computers and people say them on a stage. It's a wonderful non-living.
That being the case, as I lounge in Southern California, my words, two dozen highly talented and underappreciated artists, and the press corps are doing my work for me. Check it out:
The Boston Herald
The Boston Phoenix
The Boston Metro
Boston.com / The Boston Globe
The show was also mentioned on WBUR and on Fox 25 today. Those channels haven't entered the inter-age at the appropriate pace, so I can't provide a link.
What am I to do with this newfound (little f) fame? The answer is simple: exploit it at all costs!
There must be some way that, after staying completely uninvolved for months, I can sweep in at the last minute and steal the spotlight from dozens of people who have worked harder than I have to make me look good, thereby turning (f)ame into (F)ame! Right? (Please, no one in the show read this.)
I have a few ideas.
1) I could catch a last-minute flight back to Boston, then leap on stage at the very end of the show, juggle bowling balls with my buttocks, and bow.
Except that it's already almost 7:00 in Boston. I'll never make it, and my time machine is broken.
2) I could skype my way in and introduce myself to roves of applauding fans and potential "like"-ers.
Except that those rascals who are actually performing the show will do everything they can to thwart my stealing their spotlight, so they probably won't want to help me out by setting up a laptop on their end.
3) I could start internet rumors that I'm not actually in Southern California, and that I'm going to be playing the role of Charlie tonight.
Which I just did.
4) I could hire a pilot to fly by with a banner reminding everyone just who half-wrote this show and who is therefore solely responsible for everything funny, poignant, or sexy that happens in it.
Except that I am not yet Famous.
5) I could miss the boat on being in Boston today and settle for turning (f)ame to (F)ame the long way.
This idea is the most ridiculous of the five ideas, but I'm going to have to give it a shot. After all, I'm sure there's some precedent for a years-long process that began in Boston (perhaps with "giving it a shot") and spread through the world. Maybe something involving T?
It's not worth trying to think of one right now. I have a time machine to repair.
Thursday, June 30, 2011
. . .
*Ring*
. . .
*Ring*
. . .
*Ring*
. . .
*Ring*
. . .
Me: Hello?
. . .
The Internet: Hello?
Me: Hello?
The Internet: Uh, hi.
Me: What's wrong?
The Internet: I didn't expect you to answer.
Me: . . .
The Internet: Hello?
Me: Sorry. The oven was on. Why didn't you expect me to answer?
The Internet: . . . Well . . . it's been a while.
Me: Oh. That. Yeah, well, I took June off.
The Internet: Off?
Me: Yeah. You know, I went on a trip. All the way across the country.
The Internet: Did you.
Me: Yes. Well, it's a long story, but I really don't live anywhere now. I mean, I have a residence in Chicago, but my roommate there will tell you, it's basically a mailing address. I'm in California.
The Internet: California? Wow. Then I guess it's okay to call you this late at night.
Me: If you need to, yes. But it’s not that late here.
The Internet: Right. Time zones.
Me: Right.
. . .
The Internet: . . . well . . .
Me: What?
The Internet: So, I've been checking your blog every day, and I pretty much gave up because . . . well . . .
Me: Stop saying “well” and just say what's on your mind.
The Internet: I hate you. I hate you because I love you. That is, I hate you because I need your e-followers busily scooting along on my e-highways, and for more than a month, you’ve given them nothing. Nothing! I'm so angry I could curl up and die. Where have you been! You can't just go away and take a trip! YOU HAVE NO PERSONAL LIFE! YOUR ROLE IS TO SERVE ME!
. . .
Me: . . .
. . .
The Internet: Hello?
. . .
Me: Sorry, the oven was off. Hey, look, I think this will all make sense to you one day, but if it makes you feel a little better for now, the trip across the country was for a book.
The Internet: A book? What the hell is that?
Me: It's what we had before blogs.
The Internet: Oh.
Me: You have to pay for them. Or else borrow them from your library.
The Internet: Libra-what?
Me: It's not important. What matters is that all of this silence had a purpose. I went without social media for a month, and also without box stores, gasoline, bottled water, name brands, food chains, and major highways. I accidentally went without a cell phone.
The Internet: Why would you do all of that to yourself?
Me: I was as happy as I’ve ever been in my life.
. . .
The Internet: . . .
. . .
Me: Hello?
. . .
The Internet: Sorry. I was growing by .01%.
. . .
Me: Look, if you miss me that much, and you can’t wait for the new book to get written, you should go see T: An MBTA Musical, which opens at ImprovBoston in less than 24 hours. How’s that for instant gratification?
The Internet: We’ll see. It doesn’t sound instant enough for me.
Me: Well, if you don't get tickets now, you might not get tickets at all. So maybe it’s time to live up to your reputation and get on the working end of fast.
. . .
The Internet: I have to go.
Me: Me, too.
*Click*
. . .
. . .
. . .
. . .
. . .
*Ring*
. . .
*Ring*
. . .
Me: Hello?
. . .
The Internet: I just called to say “Welcome back.”
Me: Thanks.
The Internet: I missed you.
Me: Eh, you’re everywhere. Thanks for being everywhere.
The Internet: No problem.
Me: Next time, don’t call. Email.
The Internet: That’s what I do.
. . .
*Ring*
. . .
*Ring*
. . .
*Ring*
. . .
Me: Hello?
. . .
The Internet: Hello?
Me: Hello?
The Internet: Uh, hi.
Me: What's wrong?
The Internet: I didn't expect you to answer.
Me: . . .
The Internet: Hello?
Me: Sorry. The oven was on. Why didn't you expect me to answer?
The Internet: . . . Well . . . it's been a while.
Me: Oh. That. Yeah, well, I took June off.
The Internet: Off?
Me: Yeah. You know, I went on a trip. All the way across the country.
The Internet: Did you.
Me: Yes. Well, it's a long story, but I really don't live anywhere now. I mean, I have a residence in Chicago, but my roommate there will tell you, it's basically a mailing address. I'm in California.
The Internet: California? Wow. Then I guess it's okay to call you this late at night.
Me: If you need to, yes. But it’s not that late here.
The Internet: Right. Time zones.
Me: Right.
. . .
The Internet: . . . well . . .
Me: What?
The Internet: So, I've been checking your blog every day, and I pretty much gave up because . . . well . . .
Me: Stop saying “well” and just say what's on your mind.
The Internet: I hate you. I hate you because I love you. That is, I hate you because I need your e-followers busily scooting along on my e-highways, and for more than a month, you’ve given them nothing. Nothing! I'm so angry I could curl up and die. Where have you been! You can't just go away and take a trip! YOU HAVE NO PERSONAL LIFE! YOUR ROLE IS TO SERVE ME!
. . .
Me: . . .
. . .
The Internet: Hello?
. . .
Me: Sorry, the oven was off. Hey, look, I think this will all make sense to you one day, but if it makes you feel a little better for now, the trip across the country was for a book.
The Internet: A book? What the hell is that?
Me: It's what we had before blogs.
The Internet: Oh.
Me: You have to pay for them. Or else borrow them from your library.
The Internet: Libra-what?
Me: It's not important. What matters is that all of this silence had a purpose. I went without social media for a month, and also without box stores, gasoline, bottled water, name brands, food chains, and major highways. I accidentally went without a cell phone.
The Internet: Why would you do all of that to yourself?
Me: I was as happy as I’ve ever been in my life.
. . .
The Internet: . . .
. . .
Me: Hello?
. . .
The Internet: Sorry. I was growing by .01%.
. . .
Me: Look, if you miss me that much, and you can’t wait for the new book to get written, you should go see T: An MBTA Musical, which opens at ImprovBoston in less than 24 hours. How’s that for instant gratification?
The Internet: We’ll see. It doesn’t sound instant enough for me.
Me: Well, if you don't get tickets now, you might not get tickets at all. So maybe it’s time to live up to your reputation and get on the working end of fast.
. . .
The Internet: I have to go.
Me: Me, too.
*Click*
. . .
. . .
. . .
. . .
. . .
*Ring*
. . .
*Ring*
. . .
Me: Hello?
. . .
The Internet: I just called to say “Welcome back.”
Me: Thanks.
The Internet: I missed you.
Me: Eh, you’re everywhere. Thanks for being everywhere.
The Internet: No problem.
Me: Next time, don’t call. Email.
The Internet: That’s what I do.
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