DIARY
Part of the recent discouragement is based on things I shouldn’t talk about,
given the number of people with access to this.
However, I can be candid about one major factor, and that is the failure of my
theater group, the Nocturnal.
Perhaps failure is too strong a work. I’ve started three theater groups in the
last decade, and they all ended up being “pet projects.” I always wanted to
expand them, to hand off control, to have to deal with the problem of choices
being made without my consent, and against my inclination. I wanted
these problems. The irony was that nobody else really cared.
I’m not ungrateful for the people involved… some of them were wonderful, and
some continue to help. But, in the end, what I got were college kids
interested in doing a play. Not someone interested in saving the world through
art, or more importantly, helping to maintain a grassroots theater group. A
few people did at least take that final step, but it was too little, from too
far, too late.
We began our most recent project, Chicago Project No. 2: The Cenci, at an
immediate disadvantage. Several actors who expressed an interest in getting
involved all chose not to. Several actors who did agree to get involved
withdrew. Finally, three weeks ago, on the heels of our first major retreat,
one actor dropped, and two announced their commitment must be scaled back. The
show could not go on. The choice was between cancelling the show and scaling
back the project. I chose the latter, but people were still disappointed.
I think the last time I had felt so depressed for so long was when my first
real girlfriend broke up with me in 11th grade. I have an apartment, have a
job, have supportive friends and family. But still! Everything had run off
track. The one thing that had maintained my faith that my dreams and
aspirations held, this theater group, the Nocturnal, was foundering already,
when it should be growing and filled with energy. I don’t know how to approach
this without sounding clichè… one the one hand, I felt physically sick, and
on the other, I didn’t even want to wake up in the morning. The weather seemed
like shit no matter how gorgeous it was, songs that had always moved me seemed
dull and dim, and for the first time since my conversion I had no interest in
attending church. The honeymoon was over. I was miserable.