Attrition

another commute
another delay
misery reaps
a fine bouquet

emotions crack
in brittle cold
fatigue exhumes
what once was bold

The Hague: Fin

After 8 months The Hague had our last show tonight. It was a very eclectic group and our time together fun and challenging. Everyone had their own style and more often than not we would come together, clash, and create something that worked despite the disparity of our different approaches. Sometimes it didn't work which is no rarity in improv. And when it didn't it was never boring, everyone on the team is strong, aggressive, and opinionated so our failures were just as interesting as our successes. Sometimes we were water and vinegar other times we were vinegar and baking soda. There were always surprises.

I don't feel any regret. For me the desire for the luster and love- the cultivating of a close knit group- faded after my first iO team FireCup. It's not as if we weren't friends but we were all, or at least I was, more concerned with the shows and the quality of the improv than with hanging out with each other a ton. I'm grateful for our time together and for a chance to get to know the people on the team I didn't and to spend more time with the people on the team I did. I took pleasure in most of the shows, pride in some, and I learned something from them all.

The two people that made the whole experience exceptionally special for me were Rich and Caitlin. Caitlin I've been friends with for over a decade and aside from one directing scene in college where I was Richard III and she was Lady Anne we never got to perform together. I consider it a great gift and something I'll very much miss, seeing her each week and improvising with her. The Hague gave us a chance to reconnect and get close again. Rich on the other hand I did not know. I knew who he was but we had no connection. When he was added I think we were all a little cautious. We had no need to be because although Rich is perpetually dry he is open. I loved playing with him despite, at times, his moves and ideas going directly counter to mine. It was frustrating but stimulating. He made me stretch. And he became a friend, not something I anticipated given his outward reserve and sarcasm.

Of course I loved playing with everyone else. I always love playing with Julia, James, Pants, and Ellen who I've been on teams with on and off for a couple years and it was a treat to be on a team with Mark and Dan who I had known previously only tangentially.

It was a good run and a good team. Improv can be fleeting and ethereal. Sometimes the teams are too.

The Snap

I've had the desire to be an artist as long as I can remember. I took piano lessons for a while but didn't have the discipline to practice. I took art classes in school and out from age 7 to 13 but showed no facility with any medium or ability to bring my ideas to actuality. I first got on stage at age 8 in a production of the Pied Piper, I was Councilman #3, and was intrigued. At age 11 I was in a staged production of a number of Aesop's Fables. It was the first time I got laughs from an audience, I was hooked and decided I wanted to be an actor.

Through middle school and high school I was in a number of plays and musicals. I cultivated my modest singing and dancing abilities. I had fun but I wasn't totally satisfied. I didn't feel like I was getting to express myself fully, I felt like acting fell more on the side of interpretation rather than creation. There was still something I wasn't getting, an undiscovered outlet.

Recently I've been reading, per Clayton's recommendation, this fantasy series Mistborn. In the books they describe the pivotal moment in someones life wherein they discover their magical abilities as "snapping". The moment I had my creative snap wasn't onstage but in my dorm room.

My college roommate was a guitarist and bassist, he turned me on to a bunch of musicians and I turned him on to a couple too. Fall of 2003 we were big into Tenacious D, Keller Williams, and Martin Sexton. One evening we were sitting around, Bob was playing guitar and I was playing Final Fantasy X on mute. For no particular reason we started singing- improvising lyrics and harmonies. By the end we had a complete song with a double chorus and two free-form verses, it was called "Trees".  We performed it a couple weeks later at Theater of Ted, a weekly sign-up variety show, and got a great response.

It was the first time I put out something  I created, the first time I felt a genuine collaboration. Bob and I wrote and performed songs the remainder of college and he taught me how to play guitar. Writing and performing original music gave me a unique satisfaction, a satisfaction I hadn't gotten from straight acting. A feeling of originality, singularity of purpose, and direct artistic expression. I continued to act but I became increasingly frustrated with speaking others words. That discontent eventually led me to improv and sketch comedy.

A Different Kind Of Christmas

My family does all its activities Christmas Eve. We open presents between the four of us and then my extended family on my father's side get together and have pizza fondue for dinner.

For a long time the extended family would get each other gifts. The uncles and aunts would get the kids gifts until they were through college and the adults would draw names to get each other a gift. We gave up the gift exchange last year and at this point I only have two little cousins that get gifts.

This year was quite different. Marta and Nick just got engaged so there was a lot of excitement about that. My college-age cousins on my mom's side Iona, James, and John, in town from LA, spent the holiday with us. My mom's family is spread all over the country and some across the world so it was a great treat to have them with us.

In a surprise twist Tisher came and spent Christmas with us as well. Groupon is being progressively stingy with PTO so he couldn't make the trip back to Napa to be with his family. It was great and odd to have him there, like worlds colliding and I think he enjoyed himself but there is still something melancholy about spending the holiday with a family not your own.

All told that's nine people when our norm is four. The holiday was more crowded, a bit more stressful, and not as relaxing as it usually is. More often than not I spend the holiday lounging around and reading. This time there was a lot more running around, a lot more errands, a lot more logistics, and more entertaining to be done. Which was a nice change- fuller and more action packed. In the past I may have been put off by all the changes to our routines, but I was happy to mix things up and to be there for my family and friend to, together, have a great holiday.

I got my dad Undefeated on DVD. We watched it today before I came back to Chicago. We watched and cried, it was a wonderful Christmas.

Goodbye Gary

Tonight was Gary's goodbye show. It was really fun and loving and sweet. There were two sets with Gary then a series of tributes/bits for him. All the expressions of affection were very genuine and there was a palpable feeling of friendship in the room. That of course was off set by some gentle and not so gentle ribbing.

Gary will be missed but there wasn't a pervading feeling of sadness because Gary is an amazingly talented guy and there is no doubt from anyone that he will do well in New York. Also there is no doubt he'll come back to visit. 

A lot of things were said about Gary- how nice he is, how talented, and how fun. What I will remember most, Gary's defining trait in my eyes, is his fearlessness. I've seen him again and again in improv shows and with his sketch and stand-up engage in dangerous material. Stuff that seems almost impossible to pull off. I wrote about one of my favorite bits of his last year: No Guts No Glory. He has the ability to walk a razor's edge of controversial material and make the content funny and at times poignant. Recently Gary and Carmen did a frat boy scene about date rape. As a concept it should have been awful but some how they managed to make it funny and make a point. Gary constantly delivered fresh innovative perspectives on perilous subjects.

Every time I watched Gary there was an element of courage, of daring, and it is that which I'll miss most.

Good luck my friend.

Nastiness

I don't enjoy being nasty to people. I doubt most people do. But sometimes the pressure of the daily grind, the cold, or city living get a whole lot of emotions percolating and you need an outlet.

This week has been particularly grating. Talking to and receiving a substantial amount of scornful animosity from women creeping into old age. I've been taking, what feels like, a disproportional amount of calls from sour, bitter, unhappy, angry, entitled, unreasonable old ladies. Interacting with them is poisonous. I can feel their attitudes infecting me and I feel the impetus to lash out. It's unpleasant. I don't like feeling angry and don't like to be put in a position where I interact with aggression.

The feelings get stirred up and have to go somewhere. You have to release the pressure or the boiler explodes. Humor is the solvent. I've got friends with sharp and wicked senses of humor and a couple times this week used them as conduits to alleviate the bad juju. I can say nasty things to Tisher, not at him but about others or in general, biting things, tee off on this or that and say things I have no belief in, and he can laugh and commiserate without judgement, and there's no residue, it's forgotten. I chatted with Brunlieb a couple times this week and jokingly confronted him and challenged him about a couple things. He's got a considerable dark streak hidden under his unassuming lovable exterior and we went back and forth saying, what could be considered, some hateful shit. It was all in fun, or if not all was of no consequences, reflected no genuine malice.

It's nice to have friends you can rail at or to. The world can be an ugly place and no matter how hard you try to have it roll off your back it can effect you. It's good to have a place to channel that negativity, to dissipate it with laughs, to let yourself go with someone safe, to revel in it for a moment then let it go.

Don't keep it to yourself, don't revel in it for long. Negativity is toxic and thrives in the dark, secret, lonely places.

One Last Ride

Tonight I took what will most likely be my last motorcycle ride of 2013.

A friend of my grandfather taught my dad to ride his motorcycle when my dad was 18, he's never said much about it but I get the sense he thought it was really fun. The next year in college my dad borrowed a friends motorcycle and crashed it, got pretty banged up. After that he didn't ride again for thirty years. At 50 he got the bug- maybe because his friends were all getting motorcycles, maybe it was part of some typical male midlife crisis, maybe he wanted some danger or excitement in his life, maybe he just wanted to live more- I don't know. This time he fell in love, for a couple years he ate, drank, and breathed motorcycles. During this honeymoon period he got me to get my motorcycle license, taught me a bit, and we started riding together.

Motorcycle riders are surprisingly inclusive, it's a distinct commonality that ties all kinds of people together. When I started riding I noticed my dad and other riders gesturing to each other when we'd pass. They would extend their left arms and point diagonally down or gesture with two fingers like a peace sign. I asked my dad about it and he just smiled and shrugged. It's the motorcyclists secret hand shake, the high sign, the password.

It says- I see you, we share this wonderful, dangerous thing, ride safe and ride well.

Thanksgiving

I'm thankful for family and Rockford and for the house I grew up in.
I'm thankful for garage door codes and blankets and cable "on demand".
I'm thankful for coffee and cigarettes and breakfast from a frying pan.
I'm thankful for audiences and iO and Craig.
I'm thankful for motorcycles and woods and poetry.
I'm thankful for cooking oil and spices and sharp knives for cutting veggies.
I'm thankful for chess and movies and pictures in focus.
I'm thankful for friends that listen and friends that talk and friends that hug.
I'm thankful for Tisher and Jimmy and fantasy book series.
I'm thankful for Beanpole and Adam and NPR.
I'm thankful for cousins and aunts and homemade whip cream.
I'm thankful for microphones and podcasts and editing.
I'm thankful for love- romantic, platonic, and familial.
I'm thankful for Mom's cranberry sauce and Uncle Mike's stuffing and Coke Zero.
I'm thankful for the companionship, support, and affection of Nicole.
I'm thankful for comics and classics and Centrum.
I'm thankful for exotic soaps and fresh tooth brushes and brand new razor blades.
I'm thankful for heat and good lighting and steam from the shower.
I'm thankful for comfy sofas and comfy beds and broken in pillows.
I'm thankful for inspiration and sobriety and stories.
I'm thankful for full moons and sunsets and quiet kisses.
I'm thankful for Stephen King and Gene Wolfe and John Irving and Terry Gross and Paul Newman and Johnny Cash and John Lee Hooker and Bill Wilson and Tom Wilkinson.

And you, dear reader, always you.

Roomiez

Eli, Alex and I had brunch this morning. I haven't seen them in a while and the three of us haven't sat down together since we moved out of our apartment spring of 2012. We've grown apart a bit- divergent interests, relationships, and time- but the friendship is unchanged. Eli and Alex were my first real friends in Chicago and my first collaborates. They are two of the sweetest, easy-going, funniest guys I know. The dynamic is fluid and easy, fits like a well cut sport coat.

(This girl was very deliberately photo bombing, Eli makes this face in every picture)

Our roommate situation was relatively contentious, of which I had a large part. The discord of the past has all but dissipated and our friendship, although not as close, is strong.

Silence

Every statement doesn't require a response. We are becoming more and more conditioned to respond, even if we have no thought or opinion to voice, to anything and everything- it's become expected. I say something, you say something back, if you don't it's rude. You're being aloof or distant or unengaged or cold if you don't fill a moment with words regardless of their meaning.

A silence can be comfortable. Discomfort is something you apply to it, its not inherent in the absence of speech. Truly being in a moment and listening to someone is often enough and can mean more than repeating back to someone what they've just said or blurting out the first thing that comes into your head. I like chatting and keeping the conversation going but it's not always necessary. If there is no more to say, cease to speak.

People don't argue the peace and beauty of quiet in nature or in the dark of night. We should apply that same calm and ease, periodically, to interpersonal interactions. Sometimes not saying anything says a great deal.

"I wash my hands of those who imagine chattering to be knowledge, silence to be ignorance, and affection to be art." -Kahlil Gibran

"Sometimes being a friend means mastering the art of timing. There is a time for silence. A time to let go and allow people to hurl themselves into their own destiny. And a time to prepare to pick up the pieces when it's all over." -Octavia Butler

Fight Or Flight

Last week Beanpole asked me to write a poem for him. He sent me a couple images and gave me the concept "flight or flight" for inspiration. I posted the poem last week and this piece is his further inspiration. I've always loved collaborating with him, trying to meld our particular creative inclinations. Beanpole is currently getting his masters so hopefully this is the first in a series of similar projects.

Beanpole

Beanpole and his wife Jen came into Chicago early to have lunch with Nicole and I before their flight back to Denver.

I met Beanpole in 7th grade, he was a part of the cool kids clique and I was the object of a certain amount of antagonism, not his but some of his buddies. We started hanging out in high school but didn't get close until senior year when we both inappropriately took AP Physics. A class built on Calculus fundamentals which neither of us had. I would go over to his house and we'd work late on projects we barely understood, we constructed a "slow roller" which ended up sliding quickly, a failure on both counts. He worked at camp with me for three summers starting after our senior year, we once staged a mock pirate fight for the campers- I was Red Beard the villain and he was simply Beanpole, the hero.

Beanpole is the most kind, sweet, warm, patient, supportive friend I have. The only times I've seen him upset are when he's playing or watching sports. He has been steadfast in his loyalty and friendship to me even though I've, at times, given him reasons not to. He's also got a great sense of humor, during the course of our friendship he has been the butt of numerous jokes, but he takes it in the spirit in which its expressed- brotherly love. He's also been there a lot when I've needed him. From helping put up my families Christmas tree to making posters for different improv teams, he's always ready to do whatever favor I ask if he can.

Last year when I was in very rough shape we were talking on the phone.

Beanpole: I'm sorry man.
Me: Sorry for what?
Beanpole: I'm sorry I can't be there...I'm here in Denver...and you're struggling...I don't know what to say...I just wish there was something I could do...I'm sorry I'm not there.

He apologized to me for not being around when I was the one who could barely return phone calls. He's got a big heart. Even though he lives across the country and we only see each other twice a year we have remained close. His friendship is precious to me and seeing him today made me want to get out to Denver and hike the mountains with him again.

"It is one of the blessings of old friends that you can afford to be stupid with them." -Ralph Waldo Emerson

Lonely Are The Brave

Tisher took me to the Patio Theater to see Lonely Are The Brave tonight. Its way out in the sticks, Portage Park, but the theater itself is beautiful, lots of molding and columns and a stary ceiling, although like the Music Box the seats are terrible.

Tisher and I share a passion for movies. There is however a significant point of contention. His knowledge and interest end in the 60's and that's where mine begins. I scoff at him for not having seen seminal 90's movies like Dark City, Batman Forever, Terminator 2, or 10 Thnigs I Hate About You and he coldly and quietly looks down on me for not being familiar with the cannon of Orson Welles or the creative arc of Robert Mitchum.

Every Wednesday the Patio Theater plays old movies in their original 35mm which of course scratches at Tisher's very specific itch. Lonely Are The Brave is a black and white modern western starring Kirk Douglas. I didn't expect to like it and went because I've never seen a movie Tisher wanted to see, I always drag him to movies made in this decade. The first time we hung out I made him see Pirates Of The Caribbean 4 followed a week or two later with Moneyball.

Despite my expectations I enjoyed the film. Kirk Douglas plays a charming care-free cowboy tough, a loner unbound by fences, walls. or boarders. There was a feeling of freedom and wry rebellion about the film I loved. It also had a young perpetually hang-dog Walter Matthau.

The only negative was the protracted introduction speech given by this short pretentious weasel-man.

We Get It! You're Funny!

Tonight I went over to Lynnae's to do her craft-and-conversation podcast We Get It! You're Funny! I'm not much of a crafter so I was relieved to simply color some pictures out of a couple of high-end coloring books.

We had a great conversation about performing, spirituality, relationships, and we told stories about our pictures. Listen below.
 

Steve's Guide To Meeting Parents

1. Call Them By Their First Names- When meeting a friend or lovers parents you don't want to set up a subservient dynamic or a generational divide. Call them by their first names, using Mister or Misses is a thing we should put to bed with our teens when interacting interpersonally outside of work. Using first names breeds familiarity and casualness, that''s the kind of dynamic you want to enter into, parents are just people after all.

2. Be Polite But Not Too Polite- Everyone deserves respect especially individuals of an older generation. Some people may adhere to stricter manners than others so get a sense of where they stand before you put your feet up on the coffee table, chew with your mouth open, swear, or refer to sex. You also don't want to come off as a stuffed shirt. Act like yourself but always remember your pleases and your thank yous.

3. Let Them Pay- More often than not the older folks are going to want to pick up the check when you're out to eat. Be ready to pay your way(keep this in mind when ordering) but relent if the parent of your friend or lover offers and/or persists. Do not insist on picking up the check yourself or paying your part of the check. This will get parents mad and/or put them off.

4. Crack Some Jokes- Feel free to talk to them like one of your friends. Make some jokes and try to get them laughing. There's nothing like laughter to bring people closer together. A well timed off-color joke can do wonders to get peoples defenses down but remember to use discretion and gauge your audience.

5. Ask Questions- Parents are curious about who their son or daughter is friends with or dating, they may ask you a lot of questions, they may also feel like they should ask you a lot of questions because of some predisposed societal construct. Answer their questions then give them a question. Get to know them while they get to know you. People enjoy talking about themselves, it's a fact. Keep the playing field even.

All interactions should support the idea of respectful peer, you're not a kid you're an adult.

Chance

Natalie and I did our two person show last night at Comedy Sportz after two years in discussion: Chance. Natalie and I got close when we were put on my first, her third, harold team together at iO together FireCup. We had a lot of chemistry on stage and were fast friends off stage. Since the team was cut we haven't been able to see each other as much or perform together at all but our connection hasn't weakened.

Natalie has been organizing a night at Comedy Sportz on Wednesdays and she slotted us last out of four teams. The show started off with almost no audience save for the performers. As the night went on about 20 or so random people came in off the street, young but not a savvy improv audience. I became a little nervous for three reasons. One because I've only performed at CSz a couple times and I'm not entirely comfortable there, two because the people that had come in were talking and kind of drunk the type of people that could get out of control rather quickly, third Natalie and I hadn't performed together in three years, stylistically we've both changed a lot and I wasn't entirely confident on how we would fit together.

We started our show and it was great. Smooth. The crowd loved it, we were challenging each other and having fun, it flowed. The chemistry we use to have was still there and was just intesified because of how much better each of us has gotten in the years since sharing the stage.

It felt natural. It was like going home.

It Is My Name.

In Fantasy names have power, the true names of things are how magic is worked. It's a metaphor that reflects the workings of the real world. Nick names, full names, pet names, secret names, all mean something, all carry with them stories and implications, all have a certain amount of power in them.

When I was young(sometimes still nostalgically) my parents called me Stever Beaver.

When I was a camp counselor the campers and counselors called me Steve-o.

Once when Adam, Beanpole, and I were at a party we started to take peoples cell phones and make random calls. One person I talked to asked me who I was and I said apropos of nothing "This is The Candlestick Maker." Periodically when Adam and Beanpole are feeling especially playful they'll call me that.

When I first moved to Chicago the people I was hanging out with called me Hounddog.

Adam and I took a road trip out to the west coast a couple years ago. There was a stretch of 200 miles or so that was littered with signs for sweet cherries. That night we decided my fictitious boxing name would be Sweet Cherry Nelson. When Adam wants to get me pumped up he calls me Sweet Cherry.

Julia calls me Stevienelno.

James calls me Sjnelso.

As a kid my mom's family would call me Stevie and I hated it, now some of my friends do it and I like it.

My soccer coach called me Nelson.

At work I am Steven. Most everywhere else I am Steve.

Many people, for reasons unknown to me, refer to me by my full name Steve Nelson.

What people call you, what you answer to, shape and define you. Names are like hints, suggestions, of who a person is. They can also be armor. They can give form and protection but can also destroy.

To name a thing is to bring it into the world. That is not always wise.

Red Rock

I miss the west. The wide open spaces. The mountains. The places where you can go and not see anyone for hours.

Adam and I went out to see the Beanpole in Colorado twice and did a lot of hiking both times. The second time we went to the Red Rocks where this picture was taken. I remember thinking it was the location of that scene from Bill And Ted's Bogus Journey.

I just finished watching Long Way Down the second season of the Charlie Boorman/Ewan McGregor motorcycle travel show. In it they ride bikes from Scotland to South Africa. It's an amazing show and it got me really inspired. I want to ride my bike across country, have an adventure, meet new people, and most of all see old friends. I could ride to Austin to visit Bob or Denver to visit Beanpole or Richmond to visit Matt.

This coming winter will be for planning, the spring for doing and the open road.

Goodbye Yolo

Yolo and her fiance Pat are moving to Seattle. Yolo is one of those people who I've traveled in the same circles as over the past couple years, developed a great deal of affection for, but never got to know that well. She was added to Schwa last spring and I was fortunate enough to do a handful of shows with her before her emanate exodus.

She has a sweet, playful, contagious energy which I will miss very much. She probably only played in half a dozen shows during her brief schtint on Schwa but in each one we did a scene together. Her last show and our last scene is the most memorable for me. Craig and I played brothers and Yolo was our prim, refined, tightly-wound, dignified mother. The scene consisted of her telling us to sit up straight, speak clearly, and be gentlemen while we pathetically tried to ask for a later curfew. It was effortless to do scenes with her and always fun. It's a shame she is leaving when we just started to get to know each other and get to play together but I'm grateful for the time however brief.

I wish her and Pat safe travels, happy trails, and a joyous new life.

My Oldest Friend

Adam and I met when we were 15 in Mrs. Hoover's geometry class. We became fast friends and spent hours together driving around in my mother's Oldsmobile Achieva. He'd always egg me on and a game developed where whenever Sabotage by the Beastie Boys came on we had to get to wherever we were going before the song was over. We TP'd together, road scooters through piles of flaming leaves, shot each other with paint ball guns, played tackle football and soccer together, and learned to dance from our substantially more graceful dates at school dances together.

When I went to college Adam would come visit every month or so to hang out, party, and go to the movies. When I moved back to Rockford in 2008 we'd play ping-pong and go to the movies almost every weekend. We've been on four road trips together to the east and to the west. He's been a constant, warm, comforting, stalwart presence in my life for fourteen years. I was there shortly after his wonderful son Eli was born who is now approaching his third birthday.

Last summer when I was in rough shape Adam sat me down and gave me a talking to I very much needed. He told me he and Beanpole were worried about me, they felt bad they couldn't be there for me more, they loved me. He advised me to give anti-depressants a try, an avenue of assistance I had previously rejected, and I did. He reached out and it set me on the road to getting help and getting better.

I try to go back to Rockford once a month. To see Adam and his burgeoning family, to be a part of it's growth and to stick in his children's memories. Today Adam made breakfast and we watched Free Willy.

Little Eli loved it. At one point he said softly "I love Willy."