Yee-haw. So here I am. Sitting in my room, just back from strike, sitting in front of my Baal (Pet name for my Mac), typing away, writing something I doubt I should even be doing. I think it's kind of funny, actually. Anyway. The first thing I'd like to say is I'm thoroughly disappointed in myself for not checking out the deadline date for columns until after the cast party last night. I could have sworn that it was the 16th of every month, so I figured I'd have today to do it and send it. *Wrong*. Turns out it magically changed to the 15th. (There's absolutely no way *I* could have been wrong, is there? 8-) So because I had two play performances on the ides of March, you're probably reading this in May, rather than April. Which is quite unfortunate, as I was going to talk about something coming up in April...
I suppose that'll lead me to my first topic of discussion, my high school's production of Larry Shue's "The Foreigner" this past week. (As I have nothing to go on right now, I'll just make this a stream-of-consciousness type of thing. Hey, give me a break, I'm new. I played the young Reverend David Marshall Lee. A difficult part for three reasons. A) He's a minister. I mean, come on, me? A minister? B) He's the head of a local chapter of the Ku Klux Klan. (I hate being typecast. I was Mordred in "Camelot," now I'm the antagonist again. sigh) and C) He's engaged. To a woman. He got her pregnant, too. Not an easy thing for me to fake, genuine affection for someone like that. But I try... But that's all over now, we struck the set today...
Ooo! A bio! That might be something I should do. All right, so my name's joshua weiss. Everyone calls me Josh, and I only sign things with lower-case letters when I write something, like a poem or play or something, so don't think I'll be offended if someone uses a capital letter if they choose to mail me. (Shameless plug: MAIL ME!) I am five things at the moment. First and foremost, I am an actor. I think I pretty much got that one in the above paragraph, though, so I won't go on. Secondly, I am a percussionist. Not a drummer, mind you... a drummer merely takes a stick or mallet and hits something, a percussionist makes music with it. Thirdly I am a writer. I have written countless poems and one play, but another play is in the works right now. (Shameless plug number two: Go check out my poem "Something You Crave"!! Thanks goes to Neil Gaiman for giving me such wonderful characters to dream about. You're magical.) Fourthly, I am a tenor. This is why I will not do a lyric thingy in this column: the only lyrics I can think of right now are ones to the six songs we will be doing for our next concert and the ones I'm listening to on my CD player right now. Tori Amos: "Hey Jupiter". Fifthly, I am a student. I would prefer not to be a student, at least not one here in Iowa, but I don't have much of a choice. Well, I am a sophomore, only two more years... Mind you, this little bio doesn't nearly cover everything, but I hope it gives you a better idea of who this nut is.
Okay, it's a bit later in the day now, I've been reading some of the March columns and it's kind of hard to explain my emotions right now. When I first read them, I am struck with a nice, warm fuzzy, you know? Like everything is right in this world, that no matter how bad I feel, I'm really not alone, that there are other people out there. I go to sleep happy and complete. But then I wake up, and, lying in bed, I think about it some more, and the reality of my situation settles in. (Yep, it's philosophy time, kiddies. Strap yourselves in, get the Kleenex. This ain't gonna be pretty)
I'm on a moo. You may have heard of it... Hey, you may even be on it. It's BayMoo... out of SFSU. My name's Simon. The kid from _Lord of the Flies_. Good book. Best I've ever read. I know a few gay people on there, and I won't name any names. The thing is, none of them are real. Like a friend of mine irl... His name on Bay is Spectre. but his *name* is Scott. Scott is real. Scott is tangible. Scott talks, has feelings, cares... Spectre is not real. Nothing Spectre does is real. Nothing he says, does, emotes, is real. Just like Simon isn't real. I am real, but Simon isn't. Get my wavelength here? I don't know about IRC because I'm not on it, but I'm sure it can't be too different. I have difficulty dealing with the Internet. It's hard for me to care about something that isn't real... something that's made up entirely of words, of little 0's and 1's... little bits of information that form mock-thoughts, mock-conversations, mock-people.
The truth is, I don't know any of you. No matter how much you pour your heart out in column after column on Oasis, I'll never know you. It's just an internal thing with me, I guess. I can't deal with things I can't see, touch, talk to, experience. This most definitely explains why I'm lonely most of the time. I'm the only real gay person I know. I have no one to talk to about feelings I might be having, about just being human. It's really hard for me to do that, to go on without someone there. But God. Don't let this stop any of you prospective letter-writers. Do mail me, really. I appreciate it. You all out there are real, I just don't know that you are. So let me know. Please.
There. I think I'm about done for now. I plan on writing again, unless I'm suddenly swamped with spiteful letters condemning me. Until next time, then. Thanks for listening.
PS: oh yeah. If, by some miracle rift in the space-time continuum, this gets in the April issue, I'm going to be at the Iowa Association of the Teachers of German (or something) lunch in Iowa City on April 19. I'm the kid who got the highest level two score in the state of Iowa. If you're there, look me up. I'm the kid with the glasses, the ankh, and the rainbow-bead necklace. You can't miss me.
PPS: Yeah, in case they don't put this up: my addy is email@example.com
PPSPSPSPSPPPSPS 'n' stuff: Hey Matthieu. Cool name. And I agree, Rider Strong is very cute. 8-)