💾 Archived View for gemini.spam.works › mirrors › textfiles › politics › SPUNK › sp000091.txt captured on 2022-03-01 at 16:07:31.
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Parties by j z provo "yahsss, I've been on *the*stage* for years..." ...blah blah blah art blah blah blah "conformists" blah blah blah Ginger blah blah.... ...one of the best and worst parts about working on a show, on the boards or in tech or in production, _has_ to be The Cast Party. (Not to be confused with The Crew Party. On some levels, like h.s. and non-theatrical colleges, the two are one and the same. But this is before the actors become [dramatic pose please] AcTORS!) O joy -- just what I want to see, a group of people trying to out-impress one another. "Back in OUR theater group, we did a version of..." ...the stories are all as fabricated as the people. A bunch of people with such weak egos that they can _become_ someone else for a period of hours, weeks, months even. . . and then they want to be re-assured that they are actually someone of 'substance', instead of just another mask, just another pose, just another way of walking. So they find a great hovering herd of other weak-egoed [read: sense-of-self] people and spend the night drinking, singing, trying to maneuver one another or anyone into bed, dredging up old stories and past triumphs [of their false selves], appearing to debate lofty concepts and trying to come out 'on top' in their inflated little flown-in, plywood-'n'-cheap paint, as-long-as-it-looks-good-from- the-front-row world. They are _still_ performing . . . and still expecting applause. They won't hear any from me, though. I am one to be their technician; I lubricate their conversations, dealings and manipulations with esoteric music ["ohh, yes I saw that album in the used record store...in the import section, wasn't it?"] and alcohol. I give them each their fifteen minutes; I nod at the appropriate spots in their speeches and make appreciative noises. And then I move on. . . I don't critique their performances ["Perhaps you need one _more_ dead relative story to really convince me that you 'Know' death. Try it again."] but I don't try to stop them. Yes, I'm full of vituprative speech for them, but I'm no better. How _can_ I deem myself far enough above "them" to pass judgment? How am I sure that I'm not just wearing a different face to try and pass off my ego as strong? I can't. For I am one. I never pass judgment, I merely observe. So let me perch at the bar and give me my moments before I give you your fifteen minutes. I have to make notes for _my_ next performance.