Don’t you love farce?

I recently watched a segment on CBS about the history of Plaid. Sounds dull, right? It wasn’t. It was actually really fascinating. Did you know, for instance, that sales of plaid clothing skyrocket after any national crisis? Sales went through the roof after September 11th. The theory is that the pattern structure of plaid makes people feel secure. Far more men than women wear plaid—in fact, it’s one of the only patterns that men buy. Did you further know that Tartan Plaid is only made in Scotland, and that a true Tartan plaid is made out of perfect squares, so that it may be turned in any direction and be exactly the same?

All Tartans are plaids, but not all plaids are tartans.

I am an actor.

I am a good bullshitter.

Not all good bullshitters are actors, but all actors are good bullshitters.

This morning proved it. Nobody bullshits their way out of an uncomfortable situation better than I do. Nobody. If they handed out Oscars for bullshit, I would sweep ‘em every year. One of the guys from our last show (we’ll creatively call him Guy) paid me a visit this morning to tell me my hair looks cute (duh) and wanted to know if M and I (“The Company”) have decided what to do about our next show.

Oh,… I told Guy all about it. The pretty version, that is. The one that’s in my head that I WISH I was living. The bullshit version.

Basically, I told him the optimistic version of what I know. That M is hot-hot-hot on doing Sondheim’s Night Music. If it goes forward, it’ll happen late-spring timeframe. I also added that it all depends on what M decides to do, if he decides to do it—that I’m fully on-board—but a lot depends on a lot. Whether or not we can get rights to the show and secure a venue and raise money—you know. Rainbows, sunshine, and puppy dogs. Happy face.

Guy was satisfied with my answer. People want to be in a good show, and they want to be in ours. I just told the guy what he wanted to hear, right? What’s the problem?

Problem is, I just don’t want to talk about it. It stabs me through the heart every time I have to explain this out as if it’s going to happen when the reality is otherwise. Worse yet, for the rest of the day, my brain kept acting in that groove, like it’s all gonna happen. I found myself going into auto-drive, researching the show, looking up costs, checking the schedule—starting to do all that I normally do when I’m gearing up for a show. I had to force myself to stop! I had to shake my head, tell myself to break character, and remind myself that it isn’t going to happen because it isn’t real!

Damn this method acting shit!

Truth is, there IS no production company anymore, but I can’t SAY any of that, so I have to tap-dance into character every time somebody asks me a question. Yes, it’s true that M absolutely wants to do Night Music, but only because it’s his favorite musical and he covetously wants to play the lead (he usually plays a supporting role). This is the sole basis for his desire to do the show. Nevermind what I want, nor the cold, hard reality of putting on a show.

I mean… it could happen, but the reality is, it probably won’t. And that kills me.

I just wish I knew what to say when people ask about it. I hate having to make things sound like more than they are because it makes me forget reality, but it’s so tempting to just… pretend. Sometimes pretending everything is fine feels better than admitting it isn’t.

I think I need to go out and buy something plaid.