Thursday, March 8, 2007
Advice to the Indoor Boy
THIS IS AN EARLY EXCERPT from my book "Indoor Boy." I just wanted to say that in case you thought the following was real advice.
Stay up later, sleep less. Eat in; do everything else out. Put your face in the atmosphere sixteen hours a day. Bounce things off people. Listen longer. Love lighter. Stay shorter. Don’t sleep over. Don’t hold hands, and if you must - not too late into the day. Walk with a posse. Leave the smile on your face. You’ll need it. You’ve been blessed. You act, sing, and write. The kind of focus you think you need, the kind you’re worried you don’t have, is the narrow kind. There are others. Focus can be generous. Let it fall on everything. Know that money will come - even when you can’t hold down a daytime job because of auditions, and can’t hold down a nighttime job because of shows. Movement will happen – even when you’re standing stuck on the subway, waiting for a mound of ice to melt on the Manhattan Bridge. A tropical gust will blow in your direction, and you will parasail over it all. Over public transportation and the hard people of this town. For to reach the outdoor strata, an indoor boy must crawl out of his cave on his belly towards the light, and ultimately abandon who he is and all he knows. You will be glad you burned your candle. Your life will be one fun thing after another.
Stay up later, sleep less. Eat in; do everything else out. Put your face in the atmosphere sixteen hours a day. Bounce things off people. Listen longer. Love lighter. Stay shorter. Don’t sleep over. Don’t hold hands, and if you must - not too late into the day. Walk with a posse. Leave the smile on your face. You’ll need it. You’ve been blessed. You act, sing, and write. The kind of focus you think you need, the kind you’re worried you don’t have, is the narrow kind. There are others. Focus can be generous. Let it fall on everything. Know that money will come - even when you can’t hold down a daytime job because of auditions, and can’t hold down a nighttime job because of shows. Movement will happen – even when you’re standing stuck on the subway, waiting for a mound of ice to melt on the Manhattan Bridge. A tropical gust will blow in your direction, and you will parasail over it all. Over public transportation and the hard people of this town. For to reach the outdoor strata, an indoor boy must crawl out of his cave on his belly towards the light, and ultimately abandon who he is and all he knows. You will be glad you burned your candle. Your life will be one fun thing after another.
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