Exit, Stage Crazy
Yes, how about that? I really could stop tearing into myself. After all those hours of abuse, it would be so nice to ease up on the misery, wouldn’t it?
Now all I had to do was believe it.
The cause behind this latest emotional assault began Saturday night when I attended BKOne’s production of John Patrick Shanley’s 1984 play Savage in Limbo at Industry City, a massive warehousing and manufacturing complex in Sunset Park that dates back to 1918.
The property was pretty much deserted for the longest time, but now it’s home to restaurants, bars, and all kinds of businesses — including the theater.
The play focuses on a group of former parochial-school classmates who get together at a rundown neighborhood bar in the Bronx.
They’re all 32 years old, they have empty lives, they rip into themselves and each other, and they talk about changing for the better.
I chose this performance because Shanley — who wrote the Academy Award–winning Moonstruck and the Pulitzer Prize–winning drama Doubt, among other great works — was going to host a panel discussion after the show.
The play had some fabulous dialogue and a constant theme urging you to stop wasting your precious life and take action.
I was 27 years old when this play was first produced, just a few years younger than the characters, and while I wish I had seen it back then, I seriously question whether even then I would’ve taken the warning.
During the panel discussion I learned that Shanley’s son was one of the cast members, and it was exciting to hear this talented writer discuss his work.
At the end of the evening, the director invited everyone to a party at a bar across from the theater. And this is where my shadow self took over — the inner saboteur who shows up when I need him the least.
I told myself that I should go to the bar and see if I could speak with Shanley, but another part of me was sending that plan down in flames.
What are you going to do, I thought. Get up next to this man and blather about your play? This is his night, not yours.
Yet I didn’t want to turn around and go home like I’ve done so many times before. I wanted to take action. And the entire audience had been invited.
What to Do?
Instead, I stood outside the theater for a few minutes watching the crowd but not joining it. I edged toward the door, then stopped, then edged back again.
While I was doing this ridiculous two-step, the voice in my head kept whining, “I don’t know what to do, I don’t know what to do.”
Okay, let’s stop right here. Whenever I say “I don’t know what to do,” the truth is that I know exactly what to do — and that denial is just a dodge to keep me in a rut.
The process is quite fascinating if you look at it dispassionately. My mind was working overtime to maintain the status quo, no matter how unhappy it makes me.
And I wind up doing nothing and being miserable.
Finally, I went home, and the self-loathing kept cranking up. You should’ve gone to the party, you dope. You could’ve spoken with this famous writer and God knows what might have happened.
Woody Allen supposedly said “80% of success is showing up,” and I have failed to do that for so long. My shadow self had won again.
Okay, let’s tone it down. If I had stayed, what might have happened is I would’ve spent some time speaking with like-minded people — which I sorely need in my life.
I created this impossible scenario of making all my dreams come true in one encounter and promptly ran away from it.
I was hoping I was making more progress in this area, but I still need work. I intend to volunteer with this theater group — and others.
And I did go to Nebraska to research my latest play instead of just talking about doing it.
During the Q&A session, Shanley talked about a dear friend who had, in his words, “become an asshole.” I strongly suspect the guy had become a Trumper, but Shanley didn’t go into specifics.
A mutual friend said to dump this fellow, but Shanley said it was too late.
“I already love him,” he said. “And I’m going to keep on loving him. That’s what we have to do. And we have to love ourselves, too.”
Sounds like good advice.
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