Free write from May 2013
I found this on my ipad in the pages app as I worked on the schedule for this week at the theater. Forgive repetitive content and misspellings. I did not edit. Just copy/paste.
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Why I decided to forego Shakespeare, just this once.
Having played Caliban in a highly acclaimed comedic production of The Tempest, I was faced early on with a decision with which many actors grapple: what more could I do with this character? If it is not a matter of finances – and it is not – then with very little distance between productions of the same play, would I not simply be rehashing a role that I had already dedicated a good deal of energy and commitment? Dale is a terrific director and he has helped me grow by offering me many varied roles, but often he has trusted my instincts to the extent that I have felt he had no motivation to challenge me to do something different. This role, while the direction will be from a less experienced hand, is a challenge of monumental proportions. Scenes of torture, betrayal, madness… All of which Dale would place in the hands of Jeremy, but never in mine.
The Tempest. A show with an ancient tradition.
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I never knew I wanted Enid. In my lonely twenties, I found myself desperately trying to define myself as other than my previous self. I have always been cripplingly self-aware. I consciously sculpted myself into something more social in ninth grade. I left behind concern for grades and study and followed desperately a path of classclownship. The intended effect of increased attention from girls succeeded in some respects. I was now the eccentric and fascinating best friend instead of the irredeemably nerdy best friend. I was rewarded in high school at the Sadie Hawkins dance. Thanks, Katie. Without you… I would probably still be a virgin, maybe even a priest (not that kind). Sure, everyone remembers their first kiss, but mine was an awakening. I wanted Katie. And I could have her. But we both knew we wanted something else as well. And without Katie the would never have been Amber, who defined my ideal of woman without ever trying. Hell, I never even saw her breasts until years later, when I cheated on Enid. I mean Clare. You’ll understand when i get there.
Amber was not what I would have looked for in a woman, and maybe she suffered from the neighbor as friend syndrome to some extent. But I wanted her so badly. She went with Scott pollard to the dance because… Well, I never asked why. I want to believe it was to be near me, but it may have been nothing of the kind. Or worse, because she wanted to be near Kregg. I dont know how he and I became friends, but he hates meow beyond what is reasonable. I did not betray him, but he thinks I did. Reminds me of Bjorm but maybe ill get to that later. Probably not. I only journal when I’m stuck. And horny. And nostalgic. I’m rarely the first, always the others.
Kregg went with Jenny, who was standard beautiful. Blonde. Fit. A smile that belonged in a frame, perfect teeth, blue eyes, high cheekbones, flawless toasted marshmallow skin. I went with Katie, who had asked me because I was funny in class. And smart, probably. But I could not have been beautiful then, could I? Amber seemed to come along as an afterthoughts with Scott, and old friend of mine one grade behind. Did she fuck him? Part of me thinks so. She was not virginal, but she kept me at a distance. She couldnt be farther from me now. She married Eric and had his kids. Maybe they’re prefect together. How would I know?
I wanted to be with Amber then and always will. The feeling is one of extended arousal. She turned me on sophomore year when my lust could ruin worlds and I still haven’t come. At least not in her presence. Except that one time
We had a toga party where ray and I babysat Ryan. He’s a rising star in opera now. And I’m still reminiscing. I wore briefs and a sheet and cursed my fat body much as I do now. I hid from the group at large hoping amber would come find me and praying she wouldn’t. She did, but even my incomparable skills at awkward seduction led to nothing more than silences and occasional ill-conceived attempts at brooding language. She went back upstairs. She wanted both of me, and I only wanted her to want the secret identity. He was private. Everyone had access to the superhero and he couldn’t love her the way I did. He was only a lure.
I wanted to jerk off in the basement thinking about her, just to be free of it. But I was afraid to get caught. I’d even fantasized that she would catch me and be overwhelmed by the raw sexual energy of it and fall into bacchanal bliss with me. If only we drank or smoked weed. Later that would lead to something.
After that, we had the party on the pool table, the sleepover that nearly led to a three way with Amber and Katie. If i had been bold (then, I thought it was the same as being an asshole rapist just to cop a feel or even make a subtle move) the stories I would have today. The freedom from self inflicted sexual repression. Amber and I had our moment of romance novel head touching mutual longing. Famously, my words on the subject were “this complicates things”. We had the fancy dinner party at katies house. She wore tights that covered rose patterned panties. I touched her and finally kissed her mouth after what felt like months of dating. And she still seemed reluctant.
I visited her late at night and begged her to skinny dip in her parents pool. Her swimsuit was brown and had ripples in it, one piece and showed only what I needed anyway. Acres of Italian porcelain that made up her hips, her calves, her neck, her back. The bridge of her nose that she thought was a flaw that I couldn’t resist touching, kissing when it wasn’t weird. I never cornered her.
We had the super bowl at Scotts where i caressed her stomach for hours, occasionally letting my hand slip up just enough to touch the bottom of her bra, never daring higher or lower than her belt line. The best I could do to express my deep desire for her was to whisper whether she could feel “that,” my euphemism for my 17 year old rock hard erection against her back as she lounged on me. She said no. Crushing.
Even years later, when i was more or less cool. We went back to the darkness of mikes parents basement, and after seducing her by – get this – pouring mountain dew down her bare arm and licking it off. In the car we all drove in. She wanted me even after that. I fumbled to caress her from my “sleeping” position on the floor. She was above me. Far above floating in the carpet somewhere north of me in the dark. And when she accepted my caress in the dark, I hamhandedly pushed my hand down her shirt and finally felt her breasts. It was not sexy, but I needed it so desperately. Eventually, she grew irritated and moved away, I pursued and she moved to the couch. With Kregg.
.
Hours later, he reaped the benefits of my prior seduction.
