Last night marked the opening of "A Shamelessly Unauthorized Parody of Drop Dead Gorgeous: Mt. Rose Takes Manhattan". Under the direction of Brian Letchworth and Griffin Parker, I starred as the unfortunate love interest to Amber Atkins, the American Teen Princess hopeful. Based on the late 90's mockumenatary, this benefit performance raised money for Collaborative Stages, the company who will be producing my new play, "Somewhere in Between" in February. The performance, appropriatley held at "The Duplex" in the village, was a huge success, spreading laughter and fun for the entire night. Thanks to everyone who came and a big congrats to Collaborative Stages for another gem!
Walking up 8th ave, I decided that it was finally time to hit up The Bread Factory. Co-workers always told stories of how they saw celebrities there, so I decided to give it a try. I walked in to what I thought would be an interesting deli, but it shadowed every other one I had ever been to. Same set-up, same pictures of the food staring down at me, and same prices that made me quiver. As for celebrities? No one that I noticed.
I ordered a Monte Cristo panini, diet coke, and chomped away. Enter homeless man. Let's call him Biff.
Scruffy, tattered, with a brown leather bomber jacket, Biff stumbles in to the Bread Factory. He is clearly drunk beyond recognition. It was 1 in the afternoon, so I give him credit for at least pushing past the brunch hours. He stares desperately through the glass at the endless variety of baked goods that this deli had to offer. He points to a sour apple tart and licks his lips. The man behind the counter doesn't even bother asking Biff if he needs assistance, his pre-conceived notion that clearly, this guy can't afford it. Then again, neither could I.
Biff searches his pockets and pulls out a dollar bill. The cracked frown on his face matched the breaking of his heart, knowing he couldn't afford it. A business man brushes past, paying for his Caesar wrap and Odwalla smoothie drink. Biff taps him on the shoulder, "Spare a dollar, boss man?." The business man ignores him at first so Biff tries again. "Just a dollar. It's for my lunch, I swear to you." Business man looks at the cashier and says ," And whatever he's having." Biff's eyes lighten up and through his drunken sweat, his skin turns an exuberant white. He tries to hand the business-man his dollar, but he declines. "It's on me."
Biff gets his tart and sits right next to me. I nod to him, happy he got what he wanted. He proceeds to take six dairy creamers and pours them all over his lunch. He eats it as if it were his last meal, savoring every bite. Who can blame him? Who knows when he last ate?
"You see that?," he says, bits of tart hanging from his bottom lip. It takes me a few seconds to realize he's talking to me. His glazed-over eyes are trying like hell to make contact with mine.
"Yeah. That was cool of him," I respond.
"I tried to give him my dollar but he wouldn't take it."
"I guess there still are some good people in the world." I felt like an idiot saying that.
"Guess so." I figured this was the end of the conversation. But when you're homeless, and quite often ignored, my suspicion is that if someone talks to you, you grab on to that. Which he did.
"I sleep under a tree around the block. This one day, I ask a guy for a dollar to get a coffee. Know what he gives me?."
I'm trapped now. "A dollar?", I say.
"Hundred bucks! I couldn't believe it. He tells me to find a place to stay for the night. I go to a nearby hotel and ask if I can rent a room just for the day. Wouldn't even stay overnight. He says that he can't allow it. I tell him I have money, and he says he still can't allow it. " At this point, Biff refers to his torn clothes. "Even though I had some dough, they didn't want other people seeing a homeless guy in the building."
"That's not fair. If you have money, you should get the room." I was now actually in conversation with Biff.
"That's what I said. Then another time, I get 200 bucks from a guy. He tells me to get a suit and look for a job." Biff laughs. "Doesn't matter how nice I spruce up. I have no experience in anything. All I do is play music."
"What kind of music?" I ask.
"You ever heard, Joy to the World ?"
"Of course," I say. "So stuff like that?."
"No, son. That was me..."
Now I know he's throwing me bullshit. But I politely continue to listen. Biff tells me of his days traveling with Three Dog Night and how his career took a bad turn in the Late 70's, early 80's. I began to lose interest as I believe less and less of what he's saying. But he was so invested that I went along.
After about twenty minutes of listening to the rise and fall of Three Dog Night, I asked Biff what brought him to New York.
"Where else can a bum make 300 bucks in two days?"
I laughed, realizing that with three jobs, I still wasn't making what this guy could make if he spun his stories good enough to self gratifying "suits" who throw money to beggars.
I realized that it was time to return to work, so I excuse myself and give him one last glance, waiting for him to ask me for some money. I mean, why else would he talk to me that long?
"What do you do, son?" Biff asked.
"I'm a writer."
He smiles, pouring another creamer on the last piece of tart.
"Keep writing, son. Keep writing, and make millions. That's what I did." He finishes the tart, sipping the remaining creamer from the paper plate. "Just don't piss it away... cuz I did that too."
I thanked him for his drunken wisdom and made my way out of the Bread Factory. Biff's voice followed me, as he began singing Joy to the World over and over again.
Keep writing... if I gained anything from Biff, it would be those words. And I feel that I had to write this story. Whether it was bullshit or not, he taught me something; complete strangers can still have something in common, and that there are, in fact, still good people in the world. And beneath the tattered clothes, alcohol breath, and sour apple tarts, Biff was and will continue to be a good person.
In some strange way, I did meet a celebrity that day... at least in my own eyes.
I'm back... for now... I've decided to start writing this blog again for the mere fact that it will keep me writing.
My plays are going very well. My new full length, "Somewhere in Between" is receiving its first production in February 2010. Contracts are signed and the artistic director is thrilled to have me on board to help steer the ship. I have no doubt that with my suggestions and his passionate insight, this play will go somewhere I never dreamed it would.
On a similar note... a fellow Oswego alumni and friend of mine, Trevor Franklin has ambitiously decided to mount my earlier play, "Reach", for the inaugural production of a company he and I are forming. The idea is that all the plays we produce will adhere to some sort of charity or specific issue. For those who are familiar with my play, "Reach", you know that it deals with the economic disaster that plagues New Orleans and the lack of mental health care for those devastated by Hurricane Katrina. We are in the process of finding specific groups that help fund the victims of Katrina, and portions of the ticket sales will go directly to them.
I feel honored that Trevor wants to take this on with my words. I'm also gracious that the other company, "Collaborative Stages" is breathing life in to a play I was never quite satisfied with. But with their insight and after a SOLD OUT staged reading, we have no doubt that it will ring strong and powerful to an audience very soon, and it gives me hope that among many many other playwrights in New York City, that I have a unique vision and something to say. The future looks bright, and I'm elated to have so much support and creative people around me to push forward.
This blog post was a little self indulgent... but then again... isn't that what a blog usually consists of? My future posts will include updates about my plays, but will also include many of my ramblings, beliefs, and occurrences of the day. I hope you join me, and find some entertainment and connection to my life that I would love to share with all of you.
Sprague
( SOLD OUT staged reading of my play, "Somewhere in Between" at the Atlantic Theatre Company, NYC)
