on On Demand. Rebar and I went when it was released (mostly because we had, on a whim, gone to see the first one together). These cats aren't making art - that's certainly not my point - but in a sort of way, they are embracing the idea that we are all dying anyway and go for the thrills that make them feel alive.
I find that oddly inspiring but not in a "I'm going to go out and hurt myself for fun" sort of way - more in a "sometimes I need to take a larger bite out of the ass of life" point of view. Years ago, in Chicago, a young woman was walking down Wabash with her three-year old in tow. A plate glass window from the 29th floor of the CNR building came loose and, like a large feather, floated down at a high rate of speed and decapitated her on the street.
I often (really) wonder what she was thinking about just before it happened. It wasn't like she was a cancer or AIDS patient with time to reflect, or a soldier staring death in the face all the time in the field, or even the victim of a car accident that has at least a moment of "Oh Shit!" to counter the standard disregard for the appreciation of life.
Death took her before she even had time to react. What was she thinking about? Bills?
Rent? A petty squabble with someone? The shitty CTA service?
Once in a while, I think to myself after a show I've been involved in - what if this as the last thing I ever get to do onstage? Conceding some sort of afterlife and reflection upon the sum total of my life's parts, would I be happy that was the last theater that I chose to be a part of? For that matter, I think (not all the time - I'm not Woody Allen) the same thing when I see a show I'm not involved in.
What if this was the last piece of theater I'm ever going to see? Perhaps that is why I have such a low tolerance for the "bloatedly intellectual, the Merely Clever, the stupid, or programmatic, or cloying." Yes, life is filled with a constant flood of things to do that provide obstacles to this sort of reflection - how can I spend every waking moment playing the game with my time?
I have laundry and bills and family obligations and what to eat for dinner and getting my shirts dry cleaned and (now) going to the gym and mindless TV and books I haven't had time to read and it's cold/hot/raining/windy outside and where's that fucking check and why does the garbage can smell funny and man, I gotta pee now! to think about. When can I find the time, where is the place for me to hide from all of this and legitimately think these heady philosophical thoughts that separate me from the rest of the mammals on the planet?
on On Demand.
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