Posted August 31st, 2006 by Michelle

I’ve not had time to write about Air Guitar or the 24-Hour Plays I saw this past weekend, but it’s almost because I can’t stop thinking about them. It was amazing to see Sean in the same role, in Ian’s play, that I saw six years ago, the night I decided to move to New York. Ian wrote about that night being the beginning of his now-future; it was much the same for me, because I finally figured out where I was supposed to be. I was still living in Los Angeles, in the hellfires of Hollywood, but not three weeks later I’d moved to New York. No job, no home, but I moved. Six years later, I was back, and boy howdy, have things changed.

I’ve been on stage with Sean; I’ve taken passages from Ian’s books and used them as monologues; and many a night at the farmhouse finds me singing with one or both of them. But I can’t tell you what it’s like to hear Sean say Ian’s words, for me, because that is the hard wiring in me, too, and it’s simply wonderful to behold. It was so amazing to be in that audience.

But I’m totally haunted by Air Guitar. I was trying to describe it to my boss, who upon hearing the title, laughed and rolled his eyes, and I didn’t do a very good job of explaining to him what it meant to leave one’s art behind, one piece at a time. If you never were an artist of any kind, you don’t really get the loss. And the seriousness of the play was lost on him. But the brilliance of Gideon is the coming together of Sean, Jordi, and Mac, who do such an amazing job of blending their strengths. I’m a carny, not a rocker, so the music of Fleet Week spoke to me more than the music of Air Guitar; but then, I’m humming “Make Me Proud” all day at work. And two lines won’t leave me alone, if you’ll pardon what I’m sure is a terrible paraphrase:

“You could say he proved his worth years ago by choosing me.”

“How many accomplishment-free days do I get?”

The first, well. I hardly know what to say. So I best not.

But the second… I feel as though so many men have said this to me, but in a hundred different ways: “I”m just not as driven as you”, “I’m not as focused on my career as you”, “I’ll take care of it later”, “Is this another one of your hare-brained schemes?”, or the much subtler, cruel undermining of who I am and what I do, by not showing up on opening night, by not commenting on what I’ve published, by remaining silent when I really need them to speak. Or by showing up, months and years later, full of regret and apology and wistfulness. I have no time for that.

Christ. I don’t want or need someone as driven as me. I want and need someone who finds my drive a source of pride and loving amusement, as opposed to more fodder for ridicule or cruelty.

So I can’t quite yet speak to Air Guitar. All I can do is think about it, and be so fucking proud of my family of artists.