A SERIOUS — Comedy Forum
Well I suppose we should continue the series wrapped around movies I’ve watched this vacation while drunk. So Wednesday at the Belcourt I saw Margot at the The Wedding, and tonight On Demand delivered Bewitched.
The combination leaves me thinking about the time that I too was in love with an actress named Nicole.
Simpkiss, as it was — a costar of mine in a comedy improv troupe known as Comics Anonymous, and co-founder of our offshoot sketch show “Serious Comedy Forum” — we really were magic together. Our fearless leader Frank even saw it, and scheduled us together as often as possible. “Alphabet” was our specialty, a game in which our alternating improvised lines had to adhere to an alphabetic sequence — no one did it like us, and if we didn’t make it to “Z”, I guarantee we did it on purpose.
She never got how rare she was to me — she knew and loved a version of me that didn’t exist when she wasn’t around, a version that none of you know, a version of me that I too loved and wished could have defined me from there on out — but she didn’t know or didn’t care, or — well, she left — and he died.
I mean I can’t really blame her. We were kids. She went into the Army, to pay for college. It was on the books before we met.
Me? I did acid.
LOTS of acid. Seriously, I’m talking amounts that would have made Syd Barrett blush. Whatever it took to make my brain — and heart — shut the fuck up.
Well it wasn’t all bad, these were the days that led to staring the band and much that would define me. The point I think is just something along the lines that everything happens for reasons, the tao working mysterious ways, yada yada yada.
Flash forward to 1999 or so. I’m back in Tennessee, trying to find ground zero — and there she is, I find her online. And everything is perfect. The connection as solid as ever, the me that she creates lives again. A thousand miles away yet she touches me as deeply as she ever did.
Only to tell me that she’s married — Ms. Dickson now –, and nothing I could say or do could supersede.
And though I wish there was more to the story, that’s where it ends. Which is probably the saddest part of all. I just can’t believe I let her break my heart twice.
So the point of all this? Well, to you my current muse, who torments me this day, I suppose it’s meant to give you relief, to let you know the depths we haven’t even scoped, to know you’ve caused no pain that hasn’t been eclipsed…
while yet perhaps it hints at just how much your love could wash away, if ever you could see your way to let it flow.
‘Til then, more vodka. And I think “Dead Mean Don’t Wear Plaid” is On Demand. Steve Martin always was a hero.
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WOW. There’s some drunk blogging that couldn’t be described as “fun.”
I kid! I kid because I care.
Really, it sucks that you and this chick didn’t hook it up but you know, that part of you DOES still exist, I’m sure of it. Because I swear there are other people in the world who can and will bring out your awesome characteristics — it’s just the way people work, in my mind. I have long held a hypothesis about interpersonal relationships that they’re all about the subsets of characteristics we activate in each other. Ugh, that’s a horrible sounding way of describing it, but I think you know what I mean, judging from what you wrote about what she brought out in you.
So what’s my point? The world is huge and there are more people in it than can be fed, so statistically, there will be another people or other people in your life who will have similar enough characteristics to make you feel that way again.
This is fucking cracking me up. It’s like mad scientists discussing love while drunk, and that’s never a good combination. Or IS it? Mwahahaha!
I don’t know. I mean I certainly don’t think she’s the only one I could ever love or anything like that, I mean she’s not even the only one I ever *have* loved. The particularness with our situation wasn’t the emotion between us, but that she actually managed to turn me into an outgoing — and talkative! — person.
But just as far as the way people interact — well if we’re all unique individuals, then I think the pattern of interaction between any two people must also be unique. Of course your “similar enough” qualifier does matter, a guarantee of uniqueness does not guarantee significant-uniqueness.
So could someone else do that to me? Maybe. No one else ever has. But that’s OK, it’s not a particular requirement. It was amazing when I had it though.
But mad scientists discussing love drunk? Not only is it a good combination, I think it sounds like the start of one hell of a party!