It’s a quiet day, so I’m doing some extra writing. This one’s in response to a prompt on The Daily Post suggesting writing the answers to the ten questions James Lipton asks all his guests on Inside The Actor’s Studio.
If you write and don’t subscribe to The Daily Post, you should fix that.
After James Lipton’s introduction, I’d walk onto the set wearing jeans, my Brooks Robinson jersey and tennis shoes. I’d smile, wave, have a drink of water, wave again and sit down as the applause died down. “I don’t know why I had to have water there, does applause usually make people thirsty?” James would laugh heartily, then begin his interview…
“Omawarisan, you’ve been a pizza maker, a church grounds keeper, an usher in a sports arena, a police officer and a hostage negotiator. What brings you to The Actor’s Studio?” Read the rest of this entry »
It seems fashionable, in these trying times, to publish a manifesto online. While it is true that most of these documents come to our attention when their author goes around the bend, I don’t think anti-social behavior is a pre-requisite for a person to publish their “intentions, motives or views”.
So many of my fellow manifesto authors have given our form of literature a bad name. Their ramblings about people and institutions who have wronged them do not play well to a mass audience. I have no such grievances. I am pretty well treated. Most institutions never get around to hassling me because they don’t know I exist.
There is not a lot of sense in waiting until the last bit of my life, or until I am a raving madman, to get my manifesto out. I am so committed to not waiting that the last sentence actually contains intent, motivation and my view. Thus, my explanation of what I’m doing here is also the first sentence of my manifesto.
Maybe I’ll write a longer manifesto one day, but here’s what I think now, a little of why I think it, and what I’m going to do about it. Read the rest of this entry »
Back then, I was really something. I had purpose. Nothing moved without my say so. It looks like that time has passed. Here I am now, sitting in some parking lot, in the rain.
I made things work. I got things done. Now, don’t get me wrong; I’m smart enough to know I didn’t do it all. On my own, I was just something. But when I was part of something I’d keep the others in line and help them do their jobs. They did so much. We worked together, we were like a machine, we were a team. Read the rest of this entry »