(no subject)

Oct 10, 2006 22:02

I love fall in New York. I've been whinging about it to Martha for ages now...about how I've been craving it. Summer is all right. You get a tan and can wear sandals all the time and attractive people tend to get naked in public a lot more. But it's also sweaty and smelly and smoggy and insert your own alliterative term. You know? I like a bit of chill in the air. I like it when coffee doesn't make you break out into a sweat. I like scarves and smart little jackets.

And the parties! So many parties in the fall. So much going on. It's like we can't shake our programming of September = school and we all gotta do stuff in the fall. I heard someone say that fall is their New Year's, and I think I'm kind of inclined to agree with them.

Oh, I've been a busy little bee, all right. There was Fashion Week (duh, of course) and I did a little thing for the Viktor and Rolf show, the Shortbus premiere, I wrote a song for the Plague Cycle for the film The Margate Exodus, I composed the score for Stephen Petronio's newest dance production, took Mom to the opera, worked on my record, played a gig in Philly, and acted in a movie.

It's a French movie (Quebecois, that is), called L'Âge des Ténèbres. That's Age of Darkness for the Anglos. It's a small role, but it's directed by Denys Arcand (*dies*) who is just so amazing, and my role is... Le Jeune Prince. Again, for the Anglos, The Young Prince.

I was born to play that part.

See, this is where things get really interesting. So many stages to a career. You work so hard and hustle your ass off just to get a gig. And then it's all about getting more gigs. And getting fans. And getting people to take you seriously when you're the fairy son of two folksinger legends. And just wanting, wanting, wanting all the time.

And then surviving when you start getting. When it's like you're starving to death and they sit you down at an all-you-can-eat buffet. And you gorge yourself because you don't know when someone will swoop in and take it all away.

And if you fuck it up, like I did, you hope that you survive. And then, if you can do that, you hope for a comeback. You hope for that one great record that proves you're not a fuck-up. And if you get that...then, and ONLY then do things start getting really interesting.

But, you know, maybe this is another buffet table, only this time it's laden with movie roles, fragrance and fashion lines, theatre productions, and soundtracks.

There is the danger of spreading oneself too thin. But, I think I can handle it. My music was made for theatrics. Meant to be draped in pretty fabrics and spritzed with expensive perfume. It also does very well on a bare stage in sandals. It's just gratifying to know you've gotten to a point where you're not scrabbling so hard to be noticed. To have the luxury of stepping outside your boundaries and trying new things. New mediums with new people.

I like to keep busy. I have to keep busy, or else I get in trouble.

Here's a picture for Marfa:




We miss you, kiddo. Come home.
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